Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Down the hatch! Mmm. The second batch of wine tasted even better than the first.
A husky, sexually charged chuckle left Micah. At least he wasn’t upset anymore. He motioned to someone across the room, his muscles flexing.
Viori couldn’t help herself. She squeezed his biceps and twittered with delight. “So big.”
Micah gaped at her, and even that proved to be a delight.
Oh! Sabot. There he was. He took a post beside Elena.
After barking a brusque “Continue celebrating” to the crowd, Micah met Viori’s gaze. “Miss me,” he said, his tone all gentleness and hope.
I might. “We have a negotiation to complete,” she replied. “Hurry back to me.”
“To you. Only you.” Eyes as fierce as a sword, he gently traced a finger along her nose, right over her freckles, before he flittered away.
Viori stood in place, staring at the spot he’d vacated, already longing for his return. When a strange ache sprouted in her chest, she snapped her fingers at a servant. The second she had more wine, she drained every drop. Wow! Even better the third time around. More potent than anything she’d ever sampled. Head spinning, she swayed into the table with an outright laugh.
Half of the congregation watched her with open curiosity, while the other half tried to hide it. For once, she didn’t mind having eyes on her. But she wouldn’t tolerate it, either.
“You heard your king,” she called, giving her arm an imperial wave. “Celebrate! Or else.”
In a blink, conversations restarted and music played. The servant returned and refilled her cup. Viori sat and reclined, scanning the masses.
A young girl with long, dark hair and beautiful brown skin hovered nearby, clutching a ragged doll to her chest. She wore a plain, dirt-streaked tunic and pants.
After glancing right, then left, the little girl broke from the crowd and eased closer. A small smile bloomed when she stood before the royal table, revealing a missing front tooth.
For some reason, the sight of her affected Viori. Her eyes burned, tears threatening to well.
“Are you our queen?” her visitor asked. “Or an evil seductress?”
Queen. What a novel idea.
“She isn’t our queen,” Elena snapped from behind her. Had she inched closer to Sabot? While he stared straight ahead, the blonde glared at Viori.
“Go away.” Viori humphed at her, then smiled at the gap-toothed girl. “You are the first to accuse me of being a seductress. Thank you. It’s a title I’ll forever wear with pride.”
The child beamed at her.
No doubt the girl had heard the insult from gossiping adults. What did she care if they considered her an unrefined temptress? Not. One. Bit. So she tasted blood on her tongue. So what?
“But,” she added with a tight voice, “the pitiful embarrassment of a fae behind me is right. I’m not your queen. But I could be, if I so desired.” A prideful boast without substance. Though Micah did desire her. And, really, becoming queen wasn’t a terrible idea. Definitely not her worst.
As Micah’s wife, she could sway his decisions in ways a lover could not. In fact, she would gain equal command of their armies, helping control who those armies slaughtered. She could also decide which blondes resided in camp and which faced immediate exile. And if her new husband died at her brother’s hand? Or her new husband killed her brother? What then?
A shudder almost pitched her out of the seat. A silly reaction, considering she could and would take measures to prevent such outcomes. Obviously.
So. Why not snap up Micah before that Pearl Jean person sank her claws into him?
Viori tightened her grip on the goblet. Why, this Pearl Jean might be a true seductress, plotting ways to win Micah’s eternal devotion even now.
Well, too bad. The king of this campground had brought Viori jewels as a teenager and elaborate gowns as an adult. Vowed to protect Viori. Requested Viori miss him. Held her through the night and ensured she ate proper meals.
What are you doing? Getting possessive? More silliness. She’d never considered accepting a husband before; that was all. Well, not openly, anyway. Only ever in secret. And only when she remembered the joy her parents had brought each other and forgot the pain Laken had caused. But marriage was serious business. An unbreakable tie between two people.
She and Micah would be forever bonded. If she was mistaken about him...if he (rightfully) accused her of betrayal when he discovered her connection to Kaysar, rather than forgiving her... And he would find out. There’d be no hiding the secret forever.
Again, her mind offered a negation. She wouldn’t be betraying Micah per se—she would be protecting his wife and brother-in-law. A feat due a reward. He might even thank her for keeping herself—his cherished queen—alive and happy.
Or should she admit the truth before anything permanent happened between them? If something permanent happened between them. Should she get him to agree to the truce with Kaysar, then admit the truth? I am a spy! Not that she had done anything wrong. Yet. She’d merely reacted to circumstances as they’d arisen, changing course as warranted. Surely he would understand.