Iron poker in hand, I turn and stab the sooty tip into the rug beneath my feet. “And I care little of your opinion.” Returning the poker to its hook, I move toward my bed, resting the bow and quiver on the mattress. “Why do you dislike him so much anyway?”
“The history between Zephyrus and I is beyond your mortal understanding.”
Sounds like deflection to me.
“You want to know what I think?”
“Not especially.”
It was a rhetorical question. “I think you’re jealous,” I say, crossing my arms as I appraise him.
His nostrils flare. I bite back a triumphant smile and dig deeper. There’s so little to entertain me here, and sliding under the Frost King’s skin holds a certain allure. “You’re jealous because Zephyrus is likeable, approachable—”
“A trickster.”
“You mean he has a personality.”
The king curls one hand over the back of his chair, fingers white with pressure. I must be mad for pushing him, but I want to see him lose control.
I can be civil, though, when needed. Zephyrus and I made a deal, after all.
“Look,” I say, moving toward him. “He’s concerned. Your power is infiltrating his realm. So pull it back. Zephyrus can go home, and everyone will be happy.” Except me.
Silence engulfs the room. It takes so long for him to respond that I begin to question if he heard me at all. “Is that what he told you? Why he’s traveled all this way?”
“Yes,” I say slowly.
“I have never visited Zephyrus’ realm. How am I to know if he speaks the truth?”
“I don’t know. You’re brothers.” I grow tired of the king’s mistrust. “Maybe consider visiting him.”
“Let me rephrase. I have never visited Zephyrus’ realm, and I have no desire to. If my power corrupts his realm, he should consider strengthening his defenses.”
For now, I let the matter drop. Perhaps another time when the king is more open to discussion.
“If we’re done here,” I drawl, unknotting the ties at my wrists, “you can leave.”
The Frost King stares at me. He does not move.
Well, he asked for it.
With a neat turn, I present to him my back and pull off my tunic, tossing it to the floor.
“What are you doing?” The words strike me with a combination of fury, confusion, and unease. It is that last emotion that snags my attention.
I glance over my shoulder. His gaze hammers me with all the intensity of a hailstorm. “I’m changing.”
“Change behind the divider.”
Normally I would, but now that I know how uncomfortable it makes him, I most definitely will not. “This is my room,” I state, facing him. “You’re the unwanted guest. Don’t like it? Leave.”Oh, please leave.
Still he glares, though his gaze now rests on my throat and collarbones. My skin prickles oddly beneath his scrutiny. “I have something to discuss with you.”
“Then discuss.” With an impish smile, I untie my trousers and let them drop.
His gaze shies away, focusing on the logs blackening in the fireplace. Impossible, that this man hasn’t seen a naked woman before. He’s been married too many times to count. And anyway, I havesomepropriety. I still wear my underwear and breastband. “Your presence is required,” he says through gritted teeth.
“For what? Another excruciating dinner?” A never-ending supply of fresh tunics, breeches, dresses, stockings, and woolen socks in a variety of colors stuffs my drawers and armoire. I’m in a black mood, so black it is. “I’ll pass.”
