“You attacked me first! I was defending myself.”
“Are we done?”
“No, we’re not done. I want to know what happened to the girls before me. Why did you have the Holstrom sisters executed?”
Aspen’s expression darkens. When he speaks, his tone is edged with razors. “You haven’t once addressed me as Your Majesty since we began this conversation, nor did you bow.”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “What are you going to do about it? Execute me, like you do everyone else who slights you? I’m sure you killed the Holstroms for far less, so what’s the point of toeing the line?”
“You seem to have your opinion set about me and my involvement with the Holstroms. Why bother asking me at all?”
I open my mouth, but all I can think to say is,this is just the way I am. I must have truth. Order. Logic. My life is supposed to make sense. But what do the fae care about logic and order? This place is backwards, upside down, and dizzyingly frustrating. In this strange court, the fae are righteous and the villagers I’ve trusted my whole life are butchers, yet the ruler wears human clothes, serves human food, and expects to be treated according to human custom. It’s enough to make my blood boil.
Instead of saying any of this, I turn to my only available weapon. My words. “I want to know what kind of monster I’m being forced to live with.”
He shakes his head, a sneer curling his lip. “I thought you were smarter when I met you at the wall. I thought you had the sense to fear me.”
I know I should back down now. I should bow. I should apologize. But I don’t. “And I thought you’d have the sense to recall what else you learned about me. I’m prepared, remember? Just try and tear your fangs into me. We’ll see if you like the taste of iron.”
He holds my gaze, and I’m sure he’s going to lash out at any moment.I’m dead. I’m thoroughly dead.
Then a wicked grin shatters his glower, and he throws his head back in laughter. When he returns his attention to me, his eyes are crinkled with amusement. It’s not a comforting sight. “Fangs? What…do you think I want toeatyou?”
He laughs again, and a blush creeps up my cheeks as I wait for him to sober. “Nothing I said was that funny.”
“Fangs,” he repeats. “Let me guess. You ingest iron of some sort? I can smell it on you.”
The mention of him smelling anything about me makes my cheeks blaze. Still, I maintain my composure. “So what if I do?”
“I don’t eat humans. I’m not that kind of fae.” Despite his reassuring words, his tone is menacing.
“But there are types of fae who do eat humans?”
“Plenty.”
I hope he can’t see me blanch. “Regardless, I’m not harmless, you know.”
“Yes, but I don’t see that blade of yours. Even so, I could do worse at a distance.”
My breath hitches as I imagine what kind of glamour he wants to force me under. “I’m prepared for that too.”
He lifts his hand and I flinch away, but his fingers fall on the strand of rowan berries. The hair lifts on the back of my neck as he gives them a light tug. “Rowan,” he says. “A lot of good that will do.”
I lift my chin, breathing deeply to keep the trembling at bay. “It will keep you from glamouring me.” For the love of iron, I hope it will. I blink several times for good measure.
“I don’t need to glamour you to make you do what I want. If I wanted, I could make you fear me. Crave me. Love me.”
His words are like a dangerous hiss, making my chest feel tight, like my lungs are shrinking into nothing. “I doubt that.” I cringe at the uncertainty in my voice.
“All I’d have to do is glamour myself. I did it at the wall when we met. You never saw my antlers or anything other than my cloak and my face. You had no idea who I was.”
My eyes flick to his antlers, taking in their size, their sharp tines. I swallow hard. “Yet I still charged you with a dagger.”
He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat of his body. My eyes are locked on his chest as I press myself closer to the railing. There’s no farther I can go without launching myself over the edge. “Look at me.”
I don’t know why I obey, but I do. Whether it’s madness, stupidity, or something else, I want to look at him. I want to see what he can become. My eyes find his—a rich dark brown I can barely make out in the moonlight. A curl of blue-black hair falls into them, and I have a terrifying urge to sweep it away from his forehead. My breaths are growing ragged, shallow, the smell of his skin and clothes invading my senses, a spicy herbal aroma like rosemary and cinnamon as well as something earthy like fresh leaves. I try to hold my breath and avert my gaze, but that only shifts my attention to the curve of his lips.
He’s beautiful, the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever seen. My mind reels to comprehend this, and I feel myself losing control, like my feet could fall out from under me at any moment.
