I compose myself like the civilized lady I am, swallow my drool, and clear my throat.
“Your Majesty?” I say quietly, not wanting to startle him. When he only lets out a soft but slightly adorable snore, I try again, this time a little louder. Slowly, his pitch-dark eyes open and find me where I’m standing. It takes a second or two for him to realize whom he’s looking at, but eventually, that soft, sleepy gaze narrows and frosts over with stony coldness. I remember what Ani had told me about him keeping a relentless grip on his emotions, and I bite my lip.
So many secrets abound in this realm...
Who is this king, really? Had I been the cause of his most recent shift? Why do I feel warmer toward him when it’s abundantly clear from the cool expression in his stare that I am someone he keeps at a distance? Strange that I felt more at ease with the manticore than I do right at this moment.
With a shiver, I take a small step back. I see the moment his onyx gaze leaves mine to flick around the space and then go wide with realization that we’re not in the castle and he’s not in his bedchamber. Or mine.
He glances down to the manacles around his wrists, ankles, and neck, which have magically reduced to fit his human frame. With a single command from his lips, the shackles fall loose and clatter to the stone floor. They must have been spelled to change with his size and restrain him only while in his manticore form.
The king rolls easily to his feet, but I avert my eyes, forcing myself not to gawk at what six and a half feet of a naked Darrius Nightsong looks like upright. Vertical, horizontal, upside down—the man is stupidly attractive.
He walks over to a corner of the room and pulls on a pair of trousers.
His jaw tics when he turns back to me, looking deadly, disheveled, and too delicious for words. A distracting hint of dark scruff covers that angular jawline, giving him a rakish look and an uncivilized hint of the beast he’d embodied that shouldn’t be so appealing. I like it far more than I should.
“What are you doing here?” he demands in a raspy, unused voice.
“Don’t you remember?” I ask.
Shadows slink over his eyes, and then his brow wrinkles. “Did I... did he... bring you here? Forcefully?”
I blink. “What? No.” I hesitate. “I was exploring and he chased me, and I fell, but that wasn’t his fault. My magic healed me instantly.”
That midnight gaze sharpens and instantly scans me for injury. His fingers ball at his sides as if they want to examine every part of me as well, but after a minute of intense scrutiny, his stare falls away. His throat works. “So, he didn’t... hurt you?”
It’s my turn to stare quizzically at him. “You truly don’t know what happened?”
With a frustrated sound, the king runs a hand through his silver hair, which falls in a tousled waterfall over his chest. His lips tighten in obvious displeasure. For a moment, it looks like he isn’t going to deign to explain, but then he sighs. “No, only flashes.”
“So you’re... different entities. Not like a shapeshifter.”
He nods curtly. “It’s not a true shift. It feels like an alternate identity in physical and mental form. I retain little to no humanity as the manticore.”
“You do,” I venture, and his attention snaps to me. My spine stiffens at the look of disbelief and suspicion warring in his eyes. “I came here for several days. Each time, you...hewaited in the same spot. That’s not something a mindless, inhuman beast would do.”
“It’s training. Any animal can be taught.”
I give a placating shrug. “I suppose you know best, but I know what I saw and felt. Do you retain any emotions from your time as him at all?”
He exhales, a muscle jerking in his jaw as if confiding in me of all people is too awful to contemplate. “There are ephemeral sensations at best. Mostly hunger and rage.” He pauses, his eyes not meeting mine as he palms his nape, unrest evident in every rigid line of him. “This time was the same, but I also felt... peace.”
Oh. Warmth sluices through me.
“Nuadar must have increased the magical sedation,” he says, and my burgeoning warm feelings instantly wither.
He strides to the exit, where both the beastmaster and his sister are waiting. Ani’s blue eyes are shadowed, mouth tight as her gaze settles on me behind the king. The princess exchanges a look with Nuadar, both of them wincing at the same time when they take in the king’s now livid expression.
“Next time, keep her away from here, if you know what’s good for you,” he growls, stalking past them. The shards of gold in that obsidian gaze glitter mockingly as he turns back to me. “You were lucky you were an intriguing diversion to the manticore. Next time, I can’t promise he won’t kill you.”
I want to shout that he’s wrong, but I know he’s too incensed to listen. Staring after him, I grind my teeth and stand in silence, mourning the loss of the gentle, stoic monster he’d been.
In truth, I’d take the manticore over the man in a heartbeat.Gladly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THENIGHTKING
