Before I can ask him more, he lowers his time shield and surrenders to the guards.
The weight of someone’s eyes has my head snapping up. Titus coughs and nudges his head to the right.
Oh… oh, shit!
The doors to Galen’s private dining room are open. We’ve been announced, but here I am standing at the threshold of the entrance as if I’m petrified—me!
Not a successful start.
I wanted to strut inside with an air of confidence, a broad smirk, and narrowed, hateful eyes. I wanted to proclaim war. Again.
My dress gets trapped under my shoes, causing me to stumble. Ever the gentleman, Titus reaches out to balance me. His warm hands hold my biceps.For a split second, I take his strength as I lean in.
I look up, sensing Galen’s eyes watching. I can’t accept Titus, or Galen will grow suspicious. So I jerk my arm free, tip my nose up, and glare at Titus as I put on a show.
“Touch me again, and I’ll take your fingers,” I sneer aloud.
Titus steps back. He knows I’m acting.
“I apologize for my wife’s tongue, General Titus. Fae can be so uncivilized; they take longer to grow accustomed to court behavior and manners.” Galen leans back, smirking ear to ear. The morning light wraps around his brown hair and illuminates his clean-shaven jaw.
“Oh, dearest husband,” I purr as I walk towards the long table filled with food; smelling fresh bread and breakfast sausages usually makes my stomach growl. “When will you realize your court is more huntsmen than handmaiden? One must wield a wicked tongue to survive.”
So many seats, which shall I pick?
He’d expect me to sit across from him, forcing him to look at my anger head-on.
I round the table, allowing my fingertips to run along the smooth wood. Good, Galen’s watching me.
“Interesting choice of color,” he adds as his eyes undress me.
“Why would I mourn traitors?” I stop walking, loving that I’m standing and holding the higher ground. The irritation on his face is a small consolation. He wants to stand; perhaps bend me over the table in a poor man’s attempt to show his power.
The ball is in my court now.
“That’s what the fae nobles were, right?” I tilt my head and smirk. “We wouldn’t want your people to think I am a sympathizer to traitors, even if they are fae. A queen must stand by her king through thick and thin.”
Good, he’s wondering what I’m up to.
“Although one must question how good your security is, Galen.”I grab the chair next to him and step as close to him as I can before I sink into it.
Do I make sure my cleavage is at eye level with him for more than an intake of breath? Absolutely.
He uses all his tools to torture me, so I shall use mine.
“It must have your nobles covered with dark circles from the lack of sleep; their great and mighty king allowed an assassin so close to all of them. Nobles value gold and jewels, but they place their necks at a higher worth. Imagine if the arrow had not been stopped; it could have missed and hit something else.” Reaching out, I grab the closest fruit, a blood orange.
Galen’s eyes are sharper than an adolescent wolf’s canine tooth; I can practically feel the moisture from their snarls.
“Once the nobles start to question a king’s ability to protect them, it’s a very bad sign, husband.” My nails claw into the orange peel; the mist fills the air with a sweet scent of victory on my behalf.
I toss the peel onto his plate—the satisfaction it brings me should be illegal—then bring a slice to my mouth.
Before I eat it, I run it over my lips, savoring the sweet scent as I say, “I do hope you can quell their doubts before the roots spread. I’m sure you can. You have no problem spreading your weeds and vines throughout the land.”
Juice coats my tongue, and I plop the slice into my mouth, never breaking eye contact as I swallow.
I lean in, my breasts against his shoulder, and whisper, “You’re regretting crossing me.” I kiss his ear and snicker. “I see it in your eyes, husband.”
