My blood—what’s left of it in my body; how much has she taken from me?—runs cold. I have to find a way to stop Ronan from coming here. Can he feel me? He’ll be able to when he gets close.
Don’t come here. It’s a trap. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.I think it over and over again, trying to feel the words with every ounce of my being. Can he feel them? Will he understand?
Zara looks at whatever on the floor is holding my blood. “I think that’s about enough for now. I’m sorry for this, but I’m going to have to put you out to move you. Don’t worry; I promise I won’t kill you until the wax has been made. Sleep well.”
I thrash against the table, but my legs and arms barely flex at all. I strain, trying my best to move my head to the side, but I can’t do it.
Zara approaches me and holds a handkerchief over my face again.
And in a moment, I’m back under.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ronan
Lord Cyrus, I can tell by the timing of his interruption, is well and truly sick of my shit.
We’ve been going back and forth over this farm tax and subsidy issue for weeks. It’s the typical story: we need food to live. The kingdom needs taxes to support itself. Someone is going to win, and someone is going to lose because this system is fucked beyond repair. And somehow, as always, doing the right thing is the one thing guaranteed to make everyone unhappy.
“I’m sorry to ruin your evening, your majesty,” he says, sounding anything but, “but the heads of House Grana and Modesto are here tonight, and if I can just get your thoughts on—”
“Do whatever you think is best.”
There’s a woman standing out in the cold who is practicallyscreamingthe most beautifully lurid feelings at me, and I fully intend to spend the better part of the evening inside of her, farm taxes be damned.
“Sir? But there’s the issue of the fishing rights as well. House Nauta demands to speak with you—”
“Are you telling me that what you want to do is the wrong idea?”
Cyrus raises his silver eyebrows so high I think they might reach his hair. “No, sir. Not at all. It’s just that—”
I sigh. The man is exhausting, but he has a better sense for these things than I do. Every time he’s told me I need to speak with someone, he’s been right. If House Nauta needs to hear whatever bullshit Cyrus has come up with from my lips, I might as well get it over with or pay for it later.
“Very well,” I say, following him inside with a regretful glance back at Sylvie.
Gods, Sylvie. I can still feel her longing for me, even though I must be a hundred feet away by now. I’ve been waiting for so long for this. For her. I never thought I’d be able to share myself with someone in this way. Never thought anyone would see me the way I see them, would know me the way I have no choice but to know them. To be able to share my feelings with her. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.
And it’sher.
Of course it’s her. It had to be her. I’ve never met anyone so incredible. Sogood.So smart. So capable of seeing through the lies she was raised with. I’m so fucking proud of her. I knew I was right about her. I knew she could do it.
And she did.
I’m yours, Ronan, she said.
I can’t believe it. I probably shouldn’t believe it, in spite of what I feel. She came here to kill me, I’m certain of it, and I ought to assume that everything I’ve felt from her has been an act. She’s probablystilltrying to kill me.
And fuck me, I’d let her. I’d let her kill me just to feel her touch.
Sheiskilling me. It has been killing me, watching her from a distance. Watching the way the freckles on her cheeks dance when she laughs at one of Quinn’s stupid jokes in the dining hall. Watching her twirl the ring she wears on her finger whenshe’s nervous, when she feels my eyes on her. Feeling her fear from across the palace and not being able to comfort her, to hold her. Trying desperately not to think of her, not to think about touching her, not to let the unrelenting desire echo between us. Trying to give her the space and time she needs. Trying to trust that she’d come back to me.
She came back to me.
I can still taste her on my lips, sweet like honey. I want to be back there, between her legs. I want to lie on the bed and let her straddle my face, let her smother me to death with her dripping wet—
Fuck, I need to calm down. My throbbing hard erection is just about the last thing I need during these tax negotiations.
I suppose I also ought to visit a washbasin before letting Thaddeus kiss the ring, considering where that finger has been.
