Someone brushed against me, and I lowered my eyes as Calix came to stand beside me. He gazed up at me with thatvoid expression all of Astraea’s messengers bore. To the Queen’s credit, the boy was well-trained. His restraint in this proximity was commendable.
“Let’s go,” I said again to the woman in my arms, irked by the child and the power he believed he held over me. No, the power he did hold over me. Again, my stomach roiled.
This time, my unnamed companion nodded and allowed me to lead her through the gathered group and toward one of the towers that stood where the courtyard wall met the castle. It was one of the lesser-known entry points to the inner castle, one used only by soldiers and guards. It would be quiet, far enough from the fray that no one would notice our tryst.
I took one last glance over my shoulder to where Astraea knelt between the two boys on the stage, speaking to them, all broad smiles. Then I dipped my head and led the woman beneath a stone archway.
My eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness within the tower. Two soldiers stood together, posed with bows. They exchanged confused looks. I didn’t know their names; castle guards rarely worked alongside soldiers. It didn’t matter.
“Out,” I snarled, my unnerved energy showing more than I’d anticipated. The men jumped, standing taller and abruptly dismissing themselves. Taking a sense of satisfaction from their response, I snorted my approval. The uniform had its advantages—even as a nameless bastard, I was held at a significantly higher rank than these men. They knew enough not to contradict a demand given to them by a castle guard.
Unsurprisingly, the two had gone through the doorway that led into the castle, not out to the courtyard. Soldiers posted in the towers were commonly residents of the private castle garrison. Such men were trained to defend the castle’s interior first and foremost.
When the door shut, I turned back to my companion.
She stood with her back up against the wall, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You dance with Queens and commoners alike, then?”
Danced with Queens and commoners alike? I opened my mouth to speak, but the woman grabbed me by the buckles on my uniform and pulled me toward her. She nodded to the doorway the soldiers had exited, seeming again to shift the conversation.
“Do all men cower when you speak?” she asked, a seductive depth altering her tone.
Despite the tension in my body, I laughed, surprised by her question. “No.” I braced a hand against the stone above her. Quirking a smile, I let thoughts of the Queen leave me and refocused my mind on the stunning and curious stranger before me. “Only the soldiers.”
The woman hummed and traced the dimple at my cheek, the one that only showed when I smiled. Something I did rarely, it seemed. Her exploratory touch made me feel vulnerable, rocked by the intimacy of a shared moment, of the connection. These sensations were balanced by more primal, pressing desires that sent a flushing heat radiating across my skin. The urgency to take her and rut her returned, pulsing between my legs. I longed for her to learn not just my body, but my soul. It was a sudden and strange realization; one I could not accept even as I knew the absolute truth of it.
Her fingers carved a slow path along my jaw, sliding down the side of my throat. When she stilled and retraced a spot, I inhaled sharply. The mark Astraea had left on me was still tender. In the light of a flickering sconce, the woman’s lashes caught, the only tell in the darkness that she’d raised her eyes to mine. Again, I longed to withdraw her mask, to expel the concealment.
Her touch explored along my collarbone then stopped again. “What causes scars like this?”
The marks she indicated were nearly undetectable by sight, faintly raised and branching like tree roots.So few ever noticed them. Then again, so few ever touched me so intimately.
I lowered her hand and shook my head, a heaviness weighing me down, tainting the moment. “I do not wish to speak about my scars.”I whispered, my voice weighted with regret.
The woman pouted, and I touched my thumb to her bottom lip in an attempt to redirect her attention. Again, her lashes flitted in the yellow light, and she nipped at me, catching the leather of my glove between her teeth, raising her chin. A challenge.
Slowly, I withdrew my fingers from their confines, and she dropped the glove. It fell between us to the stone floor. The hold she had over me was as unsettling as it was intoxicating, tugging me from my duty as a guard. She was a mystery I couldn’t look away from.
When I brought my thumb to her mouth again, she sucked it in, her tongue slick, warm, and wet. As she teased me, I yielded to my imagination, my aching desires. Images sparked behind my eyes as I gave into fantasies of her on her knees before me.
“Do not tease me, or you’ll be left with something else in your mouth,” I warned, my voice a low rumble. I withdrew my finger, letting my thumb trail down and catch her by her chin.
I studied her like that, the small frame of her face held in my hand. To have her locked against the wall as I did was possessive, yet she had pulled me to her. It was her invitation to take this role, and the spark in her eyes said that her submission was something only to be granted, not taken. Something about that made me ache, for I knew what she wanted from me was no more than a fleeting moment. A decision she had made for herself when she felt her life was being planned for her.
“Please, give me your name.” The plea revealed my aching desire, and lacked my earlier gruffness. Swallowing, I reached for her mask. She turned from my touch.
“We each have our secrets,” she said, coldness lacing her words. “I didn’t push yours.”
The weight of her statement settled over me. I dropped her chin, and as if she detected me pulling away, she brought her hand to my chest. “Give me this.”
I replied with a gruff noise from my throat, not quite a scoff. “Give you concession to this disagreement, or to—”
The tightening of her grip and tug at my uniform cut me off. Her nose scrunched, and I suspected that beneath her mask, her eyes narrowed. The woman was so readable, even with her face half concealed as it was. There was something oddly endearing about that.
“Very well, Cordelia.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose, a little sound of annoyance.
starting at my collar, she worked nimbly with her fingers at the brass buttons that lined the front of my jacket. Other straps crisscrossed with buckles, clips, and latches, making the top tedious to remove. It gave me a moment to think, though, and I enjoyed watching her undress me.
