“Here's the butter, Your Majesty,” a human woman brought a crock over, set it on his trencher, and curtsied.
“Thank you. This is good for now.” He finished his chicken leg, set the bone on the trencher, then picked the platter up. “Come along, Ru'din. These people are busy. We shouldn't interrupt them further.”
“These people arebusy?” I gaped from the wide-eyed kitchen staff to the King and back. “I was asking them about your poisoning. Surely they're not too busy for that?”
“You can talk to them later. They know nothing. Come on. I'm hungry.”
“Yes, so you've said,” I grumbled. Then I spotted a crate of wine and grabbed a bottle. “Can I take this?”
“Yes, my lord,” the Shanba woman said, her large eyes darting away and her nose twitching.
Great, now I was upsetting the staff. It would have been kinder if the King had let me speak to them immediately instead of making them wait and stew.
“Thanks. I hate eating without something to drink. And don't worry about my investigation. I'm just looking for the truth.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, my lord.”
“Ru'din!” the King shouted.
“I'm coming!” Then I glanced at the spit. “One of those chickens you took is for me, right?”
“Not if you keep dawdling!”
“I said I'm coming!” I ran after the King.
I found him on a bench in the kitchen garden; the trencher set on his lap and a pile of bones beside him on the bench. It was warm out there, not a single snowflake to be found. I glanced up and saw there was a glass ceiling above us. A greenhouse. Huh. Smart. And there was the King, scarfing down a chicken in the middle of it, looking like a damn ruffian.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, then pulled the cork out of the wine bottle with my teeth and spat it into the vegetable beds. I took a long swallow, then sat down beside the King. “Here, wash that down with some wine before you choke.” I offered him the bottle. “I'd hate for you to kill yourself right after I went through the trouble of saving you.”
“Oh, well done!” He took the bottle with greasy fingers and chugged.
“You'd look right at home in the Sable Fist.”
“What's the Sable Fist?” The King passed me back the bottle.
“It's a Raltven tavern where . . .” I trailed off as something occurred to me.
“What is it?” He cocked his head at me, then handed me a piece of chicken.
I took the chicken and stared at him as I ate it. Instead of pushing me for an answer, King Cynric broke off a piece of bread, dragged it through the butter, and ate it. He kept looking back at me, though.
I tossed the bone on his plate, licked my lips, and stood up to swing my cloak off. In the same movement, I put it around his shoulders, then pulled up the hood. “Yes, I think you'd fit in nicely.”
“What do you mean? Are you going to ask me out for a drink?”
I blinked and stepped back. I hadn't realized how close I was to him, or that I still had my hands on his shoulders. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I've forgotten my place and gotten overly familiar with you.”
He snorted. “Fuck that. You went into a mueyaru's lair for me today. Because of you, both the beast and I are alive. Get as familiar with me as you like.”
The words conjured images they shouldn't have. The King still looked like shit, but my libido didn't care. I was into him. Big time. And I wanted to get very familiar. So what if he was emaciated and his hair was greasy?
Oh, great fuck. What is wrong with me?I thought.
“Ru'din?” the King prompted.
“Call me Ru.”
“Right. Ru.” He grinned and was suddenly so handsome that I couldn't breathe. “Tell me about the mueyaru. Did everything go smoothly?”
