“I could.” Jonas pinched my chin in his fingers. “But I have no desire to make you miserable.”
“Your folk know what I am. How will they ever see anything more?”
“And what are you?”
I hesitated. “A weapon. A bit of monstrous darkness.”
On my final word, Jonas coated his eyes with glossy black. Such a shift from his bright green was startling.
His palm cupped the side of my face, his body pressed me into the post of the bed. “Thenbemonstrous, Wife. If that is what you are, that is what I want you to be.”
My fingers dug into his waist. Gods. He was so close, so hard against me. Never had I craved a touch so fiercely.
My husband refused to indulge. As though, all at once Jonas realized what position we’d taken, he pulled away.
In two blinks, his eyes drifted back to his normal shade. “Trust me, be you, Skadi—just you—and that will be enough.”
I did not have time to respond, to argue, or to truly absorb his meaning, before the prince insisted he was expected somewhere else, and would see me in a few tolls—I took that as their marks of time.
When the door gently closed in his wake, I pressed a hand to my rapid heart, letting my eyes close.
I vowed to burn the man, but he was a force, and I was in the path of destruction, unwilling to save myself.
The prince’s vow of vulgarity being delivered with my belongings was not exaggerated. A gruff man appeared with Ash, cursing the younger man—something about his large feet—and shoving into the chamber without a warning.
“Hello again, Skadi.” Ash clung to one side of a trunk handle and used his chin to nod a greeting.
I smiled, catching sight of a round-faced fae woman with a swollen belly behind them.
With a grunt and declaration such things ought to be tossed into the sea, the brisk, surly man and Ash dropped the trunk. With the sleeve of his dark tunic, Ash wiped his brow. “Skadi this is my wife, Lady Shelba of the Court of Serpents—a glamour fae court located in the Southern realms.”
Shelba had sharply tapered ears and eyes that were round and owlish. She bent at the knee, dipping her chin. “Princess.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said. “Thank you for bringing this.”
“Next thing you know, I’ll be cookin’ right beside Ylva.” The brutish man poked Ash in the chest. “I’m no cook and no delivery boy.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Forgive Osta, Princess. He’s not the most personable sod of the Falkyns.”
“Falkyn?”
“Only the fiercest guild in the kingdom.” Osta smacked Ash againstthe chest. “Not like these Kryv. Lost your touch boy, heard you comin’ from across the damn hall.”
My eyes bulged. Ash was one of these . . . thieves-turned-inner guard? “Kryv?”
“Since I was a little boy.” His eyes burned with a touch of pride. “My sister is as well.”
“And the . . . Falkyn guild is like the Kryv?”
Osta blew out his lips. “Except sharper, fiercer, and deadlier in all ways.”
“All right, you old sod.” Ash clapped the man on the shoulder. “Falkyns are simply another guild, Skadi. Led by an Elixist and his wife—our lie taster. I’m sure you’ll cross paths eventually.”
Ash spoke with a clear attempt to make this kingdom of trickster guilds more innocent than was true, but I glanced at his wife who mouthedsmugglersas though it was nothing to fret about.
“I see.” I clasped my hands in front of my body. “Well, thank you for bringing the trunk.”
“I’m sure more will arrive tonight and through the morning.” Ash led his wife and Osta toward the door. “Sleep well, Princess. Welcome to Klockglas.”
