I drew the axe from my belt, food forgotten. Nothing else mattered but punishment. How dare he—
But Barkke had trained at my side. His mace was in his hand just as fast, meeting my axe, holding steady. I could kill him—he was strong, but I was stronger. The strongest fae in millennia. The High King of fucking Annwyn. How fucking dare he desire my mate—
“You better get used to it, Majesty,” Barkke said. He pressed his mace hard into my axe. Every member of our party watched us, but they could hear nothing over my growl. Barkke gnashed his teeth, his own growl meeting mine. His beast form may not be a wolf, but he could be just as vicious. “Veyka deserves to be worshipped by every male who sets eyes upon her. You cannot slaughter every male in Annwyn.”
“I could slaughter you.”
He threw back his head and laughed, exposing his throat. An act of submission. My wolf recognized it on a primal level. I stepped back.
“Maybe someday,” Barkke said, lowering his mace.
“Consider it a promise.”
His eyes were undimmed. “Done.” He nodded over my shoulder. “Now go talk to your wife.”
Veyka did not even pretend to not be watching.
Her white hair, loose around her shoulders except for the part in front that she braided away from her face, blended with the wall of snow behind her as the northern edge of the Spine rose toward the bleak winter sky.
We’d traded the thin layers of snow at the coast for thick drifts several feet deep. It was the most precarious part of our journey. We had paused on the edge of the forest to eat, but when we rose we would begin the treacherous trek across the ice field. The snow provided a barrier to give our feet purchaseon the slick ice, but it also disguised any number of dangers. Solabear dens. Crevices so deep that even a fae could not survive. Another month, when the spring thaw began, and this area would be impassible for any but aerial shifters.
Veyka could have moved across it easily, avoiding the thick drifts of snow and precarious ice. But she had not offered. Maybe she was exhausted after the duel with the Black Knight. All magic had a cost.
I’d long ago accepted that the cost of mine was being alone, apart.
But there sat my mate, licking her lips as she ate her own sausage roll. I walked to her, not bothering with a pretense of anything else. There was no room for pretense and posturing between us.
Veyka stared straight into my eyes as she wrapped her entire mouth around the girth of the sausage roll. Ancestors fucking kill me.
Lyrena laughed at us brazenly as she left.
“Not quite chocolate croissants,” I choked out.
Veyka licked her lips again. “Not even close.”
She did not move over to make more room for me on the rock beside her. While everyone else stood to avoid wet backsides, Lyrena had melted the snow off of this rock so the queen had somewhere to sit.
Veyka tilted her head to the bare bit of black rock in silent invitation.
It was not big enough for me to sit without touching her. Veyka knew that.
An offering, after the harsh words we’d exchanged on the battlements of Castle Chariot.
I took it.
We sat in silence. Veyka offered me the remaining half of her sausage roll—she’d watched me drop mine in the snow in favor of trying to kill Barkke. I accepted it and ate.
The others moved around the edge of the forest, speaking quietly. Barkke was pointing out toward the horizon as he spoke with Lyrena, likely explaining our route. Vera and Kay had remained at Castle Chariot, to ensure Palomides’ compliance and oversee the shipments of amorite.
We’d spent a day touring the mines, during which Veyka had deferred to me entirely. I told myself it was because of my history. I’d been fighting wars for hundreds of years; I knew the importance of weapons and necessary steps for establishing supply lines to support an army. But that was not the only reason she kept her distance.
The tenuous offerings of trust we’d made in Palomides’ dungeons had been fractured by the duel. But maybe now, on the reprieve of the journey back to Eilean Gayl, with mostly each other for company, we could try again.
I forced myself to ignore the soft feel of Veyka’s hip where it pressed into my thigh. Such soft skin, soft folds, that concealed a body and a will of iron.
It was so easy to give in to the physical needs of our bodies. The desire to take her, to bury my cock inside of her and forget the rest of the world… a thousand times simpler than sorting out the disaster that was our mating, our Joining.
“I did not know,” I finally said. Veyka made a questioning sound, her lips forming a painfully kissable moue. I cleared my throat to keep from doing just that. “I did not know I was not at full strength. Not until it happened.”
