Fuck.
This was bad. I needed to get myself under control. No one would keep me from my purpose. Not even my Fate-damned mate, and certainly not my ice-cursed needs. We needed to get away from each other, but I had to make sure she wasn’t carrying any weapons or tools that might assist in her escape. Ashren or Folge or even Bren could search her, but that wasn’t happening, and I forced myself not to acknowledge why. “Are you carrying any weapons?”
“Only my razor wit and my smart mouth.” She arched a brow. “I didn’t exactly come here for a fight.”
“We’ll see about that.” I could imagine her doing more than a few things with that mouth that would be tantamount to a threat. I stepped closer—close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin and breathe in her scent more fully. I grew dizzy.
Her cheeks brightened as well, and she took in a quick breath. Her gaze held mine and, for a moment, my lungs no longer worked.
My heart squeezed.Fate above, damn you!“I’m going to search you.”
“Thehellyou are!” Her mouth twisted, and her voice sliced through the haze of my mind.
I grabbed her by the waist and ran my hands up and down her sides, patting her down briskly, ignoring the way my skin buzzed from touching her. “Hold still, or I’ll shove you in a cell so far from the surface you won’t even be able to dream of light.” And even that might not be far enough away to grant me peace.
Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth set in a tight line. Some sassy response was brewing behind those gorgeous hazel eyes, but she kept it contained. She didn’t seem to recognize the significance of this tugging sensation between us. Perhaps she didn’t even feel it—but that was fine with me.
Fuck.
Her whole body was perfection.
I slid my hands over the rest of her swiftly, trying not to linger anywhere. Her pockets held a set of keys with a sparkling black-spotted pink pig sculpture dangling from the ring on top of a glittering ball, and a pink glittery tube labeled Strawberry Smackers. Not particularly interesting as a threat, though I’d never seen anything like it before.
Her cheeks flushed, and she glared at me. “Asshole,” she muttered.
I’d have retorted something sharp and cutting if I could have rerouted the blood back to my brain. Instead, I grunted, stepped back, and jerked my thumb toward the western entrance. “Put her in the dungeon.Notwith any of the other prisoners. No one talks to her but me. And double the guard at this portal point in case anyone else follows her example.”
“Hey!” she protested as they dragged her off. Her pink and white shoes shuffled over the flagstones and squeaked as she fought for purchase. “Let go of me! I haven’t done anything wrong!”
I resisted the urge to watch her go. The tugging in my chest intensified and urged me to go after her. This had to stop. I’d killed to become king, laid aside everything I’d been, and I wouldn’t be distracted now.
“Well, that was interesting.” Ashren sidled closer, his tone low. “Your eyes went completely violet for a bit there. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Apparently, I should tell you that your eyes are no longer functioning.” I refused to look at him as I started toward the eastern servant’s entrance. My muscles tensed though. It had been a foolish lie. There was no reason to pretend she hadn’t impacted me, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, even to Ashren. “Just stay away from her. I’ll handle her myself.”
“I’m sure you will,” Ashren said with a sly smile.
I growled at him but didn’t slow my pace. Before I’d risen through the ranks to become king, I had entered the palace through the servant entrances. A part of me still felt more at ease with the closeness of those stone walkways because they limited the number of people who would see me, versus if I entered through the main hall. My head brushed the door jamb, and if I spread out my arms fully, my hands would press on either wall.
Ashren followed me into the narrow hall, his footsteps lighter than mine. “What do you intend to do with her?”
“None of your Fate’s-damned business,” I snapped. I had no clue what I was going to do with her, and I didn’t need anyone pointing that out.
“Well, we have to get answers from her—” he started.
I spun to face him and pointed my finger into his face. “There is nowein this matter. You will not do anything to her. I will speak to her in my own time. Do you understand?”
Ashren lifted his hands while his mouth twitched like something was funny. “Indeed. If I am not to aid in this matter, what would you have me do instead?”
“Speak with the quartermaster and ensure we have sufficient supplies for the outposts bordering the Night Court. It’s going to be a long, cold winter, and Bram is likely to exploit that.” I didn’t wait for Ashren to confirm the order. He’d do as he was told.
I turned into the next hall and took the tight staircase to the fourth floor, where my study lay. The heavy wooden door carved with constellations and dusk emblems swung open at my shove, and I slammed it shut behind me. The sound cracked through the silence like a whip.
The room was colder than usual, the hearth unlit. I didn’t bother with a fire because my anger burned hot enough.
Maps and missives covered every surface of the heavy oak table in the center of the room. Smaller tables sat at intervals against the wall, and a massive desk was stationed near thewindow. Sideboards held unopened bottles of dark wine and frost gin. Star charts hung on the walls, their ink shimmering faintly under the lamplight. Each one showed the slow shift of constellations—the faint bleed of the Night Court’s magic where it pressed against our sky. Most were enchanted, adapting and adjusting to the patterns of the stars as they shifted. But a few were hand-drawn and based on observations of what the sky should look like.
My uncle’s old astrolabe sat beside a stack of ledgers, brass dulled from use, gears catching the light with each rotation. It sat just atop the map of the territories nearest the Night Court with circles drawn and redrawn around the mountain passes like wounds that wouldn’t heal.
