As soon as I left his chambers, exhaustion weighed on me like a creature with claws extended into my shoulders. I wandered from his chambers in the direction of my room—or what I thought was the direction. I must have gotten turned, because I found myself following a staircase up when I thought I remembered my room being a story below his.
That was when I heard the moan.
It came from down a dark-set hall. I hovered at the stairs’ landing, seeing nothing but empty hallway and the purple hue of crystals deeper in. I followed the noise around a corner, found myself approaching a half-ajar door with lavender light spilling through the gap.
I came into the rectangle of light and stopped.
Through the doorway, atop an enormous, four-poster bed, Rhiannon’s hair spilled over her bare shoulders. She faced away from me, but I recognized the exquisite contours of her muscled arms, the taper of her waist, her spread thighs as she ground herself atop a fat cock.
A pair of male hands were clapped around her ass, urging herharder, and at one side a young blond fae woman knelt on all fours suckling on Rhiannon’s breast while her own fingers worked between her legs.
I stood frozen, until the blond fae’s sea-blue eyes opened—and saw me.
A moment passed. Her eyes stayed on me, mouth still working on Rhiannon’s nipple, her gaze half-lidded like she’d fully expected me there. Or wasn’t bothered, at least.
In my kingdom, sex belonged to the dark—quiet, shuttered, furtive—all closed doors and clipped-off cries. I still remembered my mother walking in on me as a teenager, finding me in the bedroom, inspecting between my legs. The shame burned. I’d felt so mousy, so small. And even when I’d imagined what it would be like to be with a man—hadbeen with one, once; a guard—it had always been he atop me in the dark, a quick and quiet thing.
This was something else entirely. This was feral. Shameless. This—this wasfucking.
Rhiannon’s hand went up, fingers sliding into the blond fae’s hair, and she pulled her up for a kiss. Their mouths met, lips opening, and the fae’s eyes fluttered shut.
I jolted free. I staggered back the way I’d come, down the hall and the stairs, anywhere away, and finally found the correct path back to my quarters.
The thought came to me, swift and unbeckoned:Does she ever call Dorian to her chambers?
Probably. She struck me as a queen who would drink from every cup offered to her, at least to know its taste.
I hated that I’d asked myself the question. Hated more that I envisioned them together.
When I arrived at my room, I found the door ajar but no sharp-eyed fae scrubbing the floors. She had been in again, though; the bed was made and everything I had displaced was neatly replaced.
Like I was a guest. A prisoner, but a guest.
My journal remained where I’d set it, on the stand beside thebed. I had placed it at a particular angle to see if it would be moved, but its position hadn’t changed.
I climbed onto the bed, that image of Rhiannon still seared into my mind, and slept long and hard. Deeper than I had in years. When I woke, I was surprised to find the clock on the stand read five hours had passed.
It was evening, and Dorian had not told me anything about how I should spend my evenings.
I opened my door and nearly bumped into her. The hawk-eyed fae servant, carrying a tray down the hallway. She neatly dodged.
“Watch yourself,” she said.
I stepped into the hallway after her. “Wait.” She stopped and turned. “I’m Eurydice,” I said.
The tray didn’t so much as wobble as she held it upright. At least four platters of food and a jug of dark liquid sat atop it. “I don’t see why I’d need or care to know.”
“You clean my room. You looked at my journal.”
She hesitated. Then, “Faun.”
Faun.Such a soft name for such a hard-edged creature.
She made to turn, but I called out her name. She paused.
“Can you use magic, Faun?”
She stared at me like I’d changed color. “All fae can.”
