by A. K. Koonce
What did Bear do to earn so much darkness in his kingdom?
I fight back the urge to gag. My knees feel weak. Miranda lets me lean into him, his arm securely wrapped around my waist.
“Is that the curse that plagues this land?” I half -whisper, half-gasp. “Is that how all those people died? What they are running away from?”
Orange strands of hair fall over his face as he nods grimly. “It’s never been this close.” His features are cast with a sickly green.
“How does it pass?”
“Air, touch, saliva. You name it, this illness does it.” He rounds a corner, but pauses outside a door. “That’s why we will take all precautions. You will be safe.”
His words do little to reassure me. “Wash room?” I point to the door.
“Yes.” He turns to walk away, then faces me once more. “I should probably warn you. This isn’t the bath house you used this morning. That one will be full of the other guests who currently need washing. This one.” He wags his finger. “This one is meant for the king and queen prior to marriage, but Bear didn’t think you were ready to share the space yet.”
Miranda’s lips lift in a half-attempted smile. “Servants will be in to wash you soon.”
“Please tell them it is not necessary. I can wash myself.” He nods as I twist the gold door knob and a fresh wall of hot steam hits my face.
Black floors glitter like the outside of the castle, making it appear that I’m walking through space. Glistening stars somehow twinkle under my feet, drifting in reaction to my every step. The stars scatter and dance like I’ve kicked them, but slowly slide back into position behind me.
A large oval pool peacefully flowing with sparkling black water waits at the center of the room. It looks like a natural spring. Like the castle walls were built around this beautiful water. Carefully, I untie the bows securing my dress. My eyes are drawn to the large window acting as a wall between this room and the next. The two spaces are nearly identical to one another, divided evenly by the glass pane.
My first thought is that it’s a large mirror, but it never reflects my image, and the stars aren’t dancing there, like they are at my feet. The pool of water is divided between this chamber and the other so two people can bathe and play and yet . . . with the glinting glass barrier between them, never touch. This is what Miranda was talking about. Is that . . . is that Bear’s bedroom beyond the water? And this room is meant . . . for viewing pleasure?
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the thought of Bear being naked on the other side. My face grows hotter at the idea of him seeing me naked.
Why do I like that idea so much?
It’s a scandal and a sin. Though it isn’t unusual for the betrothed to find their way into each other’s beds sooner than their wedding night. It’s just not something broadcasted to the nations. Fae love to love. It’s natural. But the royals are held to a ridiculously high standard. Kings and Queens should be pure, untouched virgins to ensure a focused mind—and an incredibly boring life, if you ask me.
Fabric falls at my feet as I loose the gown and begin undoing the under pieces. I swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat. Wafting hot air keeps me warm as the last of my clothing lands in a small heap below me.
The image of their bloody corpses flashes through my mind. Then the image of the burning pile of bodies. The memory of that horrible smell.
My heart shakes as I leave my clothes, unworried about the mess of them behind me. Instead, I focus on breathing, not thinking about death, and not worrying about the plague so close to my new home. This place doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t feel safe.
Tears brim in my eyes as a sudden homesickness fills me. Oddly, it’s the island I miss, not my father’s kingdom in the South. I step into the black waters, letting the bath swallow me whole. Water laps over my skin, soothing my sinking soul. Though the room is hot, almost stuffy even, the water remains lukewarm. Relaxing. Liquid sloshes over my chest and shoulders as I move around the large pool.
The urge to submerge myself in it, to let myself drown until I’m one with the water, is almost overwhelming. Droplets hover around me as my magic pushes them up higher, like rainfall in reverse. They rain down, cascading over me, until my hair and face are slick. The cycle of the sprinkling water continues in a calming way, the sound of it singing to my heart, until it no longer thrashes in my chest.
The squeal of hinges reveals a troll with her black hair in a fluffy braid down her back. She waddles to my clothes, swooping them up in her short arms. Her eyes remain politely downcast.
My magical showering water drops and silences, no longer wanting to perform with a stranger present.
When I turn away from her, the room on the other side of the window is no longer empty. His shadow comes to life with the handsome features of a fae I once liked and depended on. Sparks fly off of Bear’s hands as he rubs them together, then smothers their flame against a white towel. His fingers nimbly undo the buttons on his jacket.
Air stills in my lungs. My muscles tense for fear he will realize I’m here. I knew this bathroom was meant for us. Something to share or to tease and taunt before our wedding night. But I hadn’t really thought he would decide to use this space.
Especially with me.
The jacket falls flatly to the floor just as my clothes had scattered the twinkling stars. As he works the buttons on his shirt, he blows out a long breath that fans the tangle of dark hair falling in front of his face.
The glinting glass separates us as his face lifts and his fingers stop their movements. At once, we lock eyes, two terrifying heartbeats elapsing. His broad shoulders stiffen even more, but then he continues removing his shirt.
Every hard line and perfectly-defined muscle of his chest and stomach taunts me. My core tightens, my hands folding over my chest in response to my own nakedness.
I’m not afraid of him seeing me. I’m confident. I’ve been told I was beautiful before I even understood what beautiful was.
But Bear, he doesn’t want me. Not my body and not my mind. All he cares about is that I’m a water fae destined to end the curse. The curse I got a hard look at tonight.
Bear drops his hands to his hips, holding my gaze with blazing heat in his eyes as his thumbs hook into the waist of his pants. It feels like a game. A competition between us of who will flinch first. I watch him with too much attention as the smooth length of his shaft strains against his pants. And then I turn away from his hooded dark eyes. My shoulders rise and fall, my heartbeat racing too fast for me to catch a breath.
Bear was right. I’m not ready to share this bathroom, and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. Not with him. How am I supposed to wash myself now?
“You left your hair braided.” He speaks, his rumbling tone somehow not broken by the large mysterious glass panel that separates us.
I touch the winding braids that pile my long strands on top of my head. I pull at one, lowering myself so the curve if my breasts tease beneath the surface of the water.
“I like your hair,” Bear finally manages, his voice forced, as if the words actually hurt him.
A strained laugh passes over my lips. “No one is here. You don’t have to pretend you like me.”
Water ripples around me, and my breath catches, because I’m not sure how his movements are lapping into my side of the pool of water with the strange magical glass between us.
I turn my head and watch him as his hips lower beneath the inky waters. The perfect veering lines that angle at his waist hold my attention before he sinks lower and lower. Another thud-unk of my heart passes before the beat finally slows.
“Did you pretend to like having me hold your hand tonight?” His question catches me off guard. To my knowledge, I hadn’t shown any sort of reaction to his touch, other than utter awe at his acting ability.
“I’m almost as accomplished an actress as you are an actor. Perhaps if you hadn’t been in line for the throne, you could have taken up the arts.”
<
br /> A deep hum vibrates through him. He lowers himself even more, until just his eyes and nose remain above the water. I flick my wrist to create a small wave, rising to crash over his head. The wave surprises me when the glass doesn't stop it, and I wonder how the odd barrier between us truly works.
With a smirk, he tugs away from me and stands up. Bear shakes water out of his long hair. Why is he even more attractive with his dark hair wet and hanging around his shoulders?
“That was not nice, Syren.” My name against his full taunting lips sends a shiver across my damp skin.
I shrug. “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
One hand comes up, brushing his face to wipe away the water droplets that cling to his long lashes. And then he looks at me.
His expression goes solemn.
“Are you okay after tonight?”
I don’t want to think about tonight. I want to wash away the tragedy and death. It isn’t normal for fae to fall ill. A rare thing indeed. Yet somehow this kingdom sees it constantly.
“Is there death daily here?” I ask after minutes of silence.
“I’m hoping our marriage fixes that.”
“That is, if I don’t die first.” It’s meant to be a joke, but the words somehow feel true. Worry strikes me in the pit of my stomach.
Bear only manages to lift one corner of his lips. The rest of his body seems utterly deflated. Slumped shoulders and furrowed brows cast him in a much different light than the arrogant, brooding man who brought me here.
“Did you know them well?” I whisper.
“Marigold had a crush on me when I was younger. It wasn’t serious. My parents would never have let me marry her. Jenevieve though, I hardly knew.” His words are edged with something like venom from a snake. If he says something too loud or fast, the Goddess might strike him down and kill him, too.
“Oh.” Is all I can manage to say.
“I was her first kiss.” With red-rimmed eyes, he looks away from me.
My heart hurts for him. For this court. If this was my home, I’m not sure how I would react either. But tears, lots of tears would most certainly fall. I never imagined a man like Bear knew how to cry.
I focus hard on the magic within me. Releasing a tendril of my power, I make the water rise before him in the perfect shape of my hand. It follows my movements as I stretch my arm out. It extends beyond the magic mirror between us and carefully touches his cheek.
He glances up. Then, with one big palm, he swats the water away. The hand dissolves into beads of water that fly through the air. I drop my arm.
Goddess he has no idea how hard I have to work to do that kind of simple magic. I’m not asking for a standing ovation or anything but would a smile kill him?
“I do not want your pity.” He growls.
“I don’t have any pity to give. I save it all for myself.” I let another wave splash over him, flattening his hair to his face.
His eyes close for a long time. Seconds pass before he slowly lowers the tension from his shoulders. Bear prowls through the water, but he’s gentle when he gets close to the glass. He watches me as if choosing his words carefully for once.
“Let me undo your hair,” he finally whispers, his gaze trailing my face like it’s the first time he’s ever really looked at me.
Defensively, my hands wrap around my body, unsure if I should allow him. “You're too far away to undo my hair. We’re separated for a reason, Bear.” I say one thing, but my heart is pounding away as if I invited him right over.
First the creases in his palm glow a burning yellow, then it grows until his whole palm radiates with fiery orange. He presses his hand against the glass. With a slow, grinding noise, the glass begins to lift. Water from either side sloshes together in a tiny wave at the center of the rooms like a seam splitting.
Impressive.
“Okay.” I squeak. I lift my chin. “Only if you promise . . .” My gaze falls to the onyx water hiding the most vulnerable parts of his body.
As if by the will of the water, he moves closer in smooth, long steps like the current of a river. He holds my gaze, now only an arm’s distance away.
“If I promise what?” he rasps.
A real smile pulls at my lips.
“If you promise not to poke me.”
A jolting laugh sends ripples through the water. His palm a cool skin tone again as he holds his chest like he’s trying to hold his whole body together from his shaking laughter.
“If I was that aroused, you would already have been poked.”
My brows lift high at that insinuation.
“You forget that I am a blessed king as well as a cursed one. My people are cursed despite how much Goddess Celeste has blessed me.”
I close my gaping jaw as he speaks. I’m not a perfect princess. I’ve seen men naked, rolled with them through the hay stacks behind the stable where our prized mares are kept. Pleasure has been given to this body, and I have given it back in return.
So why does the lustful idea of King Iri’s blessed cock suddenly make me feel like a virgin again? Why does his every deliberate move make me feel that every touch I’ve ever received prior to him was not good enough?
He’s right. He is a blessed king. Blessed with an aura that can make even the most stubborn, like myself, slightly weak in the knees. I won't give him the satisfaction, though. Won’t bend to him like every other maiden and trollop he’s crossed before.
I turn slowly in the deep water, offering him my hair. His warm palm slides up the back of my neck, and I tremble beneath the slight touch. He blazes a path along my shoulder with careful strokes of his long fingers. My lashes flutter, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait. Finally, his diligent fingers pull the pins and tiny hair bands bound through my cobalt locks. He leaves them floating in the water.
“You’ll want to wash your hair thoroughly.” His words bring me back to reality.
“What is the likelihood that I would choose the dessert that wishes illness on my future?” It’s a question, but it isn’t meant to be answered. Not really.
Bear clears his throat. His fingers easily detangle a small braid. “I won’t let anything hurt you. You’re too important to this kingdom.”
“We have to keep that head on your shoulders. Right?” My words are short and to the point. The only reason I’m here is to make sure he remains in power. We have to fix what generations before us broke.
My hair falls over my shoulders in long waves, sticking to my damp skin. Water sloshes between us as he steps away. Bear doesn’t try to deny my bitter words.
Instead, he continues with a request. “You should wear your hair down. It’s . . . pretty.”
Pretty? Do cursed kings say things like pretty?
“Oh, it doesn’t remind you of how off-putting I looked in my rags when you brought me out of isolation?”
“No, it most certainly does.”
Hair fans around me as I sink into the water, letting the liquid dip over the scales on the side of my neck that beg for it.
I give him my best smug grin.
“Does it bother you that I thrived in an environment meant to punish me?”
His Adam’s apple bobs, though his eyes narrow, blazing a path along my throat, down my collar bones, and to the slick curve of my breasts teasing the surface of the water.
Two blinding-white hot wings slice through the water, creating steam as the dark water splashes against them. He backs away from me through the thick clouds. The outline of his fiery wings is the only thing visible through the thick steam.
A click and the same grinding noise of rotating gears lowers the glass wall, but I never truly see how he does it.
“Something,” he says loudly, his voice echoing off the walls as his wings tuck in close to his body, “had to prepare you for this kingdom.”
I point a finger in his general direction. “Can you answer another question for me?”
“I suppose, Princess.” He draws the words out, giving m
e a watchful stare.
“Why is Aisha still here?”
My question hangs between us like the steam his wings made. The light radiating off of him flickers before completely burning out. His magic leaves the room dimmer, the stars still shining, but not as brightly. He took some of the light of the room with him when his wings disappeared, and now there’s hardly any left at all.
“Why, Bear?” I ask again. “Is she your backup plan? If I don’t work out for you, if my attitude really is as terrible as you were warned, you’ll take her back, won’t you?”
“That’s enough talking, Syren.” The command in his voice makes me grind my teeth together. I hope he hears the way he makes my muscles tick. “I am king, and what I decide and don’t decide is not your concern. Not yet.”
Not yet. More like not ever. Being Queen won’t entitle me to rule. It gives him security. It gives his people safety.
It gives me nothing.
Smoky gray mist evaporates slowly. It drifts faintly along the surface of the water. The glass panel remains between our baths, but King Iri is no longer there.
And he’s left me alone on my own.
Just like he did right from the start.
Twelve
Secrets Among Shadows
Syren
Somewhere between the dinner deaths and the sparkling glimmer of the nightfall bathroom, I found a new curiosity about this court and the castle. Magic seems to wrap itself tightly around every nook, every cranny, and the spaces in between.
The off-white nightgown they dressed me in covers me from head to toe. Just as a princess should be. Modest and poised at all times. I tug on the square collar, begging for it to reveal even the slightest bit of cleavage.
It doesn’t.
Nonetheless, I lightly rap on the door. A guard opens it, leaning in with a polite smile.
“How may I help you, Princess Syren?” His eyes remain focused on my face. What a good boy, not giving me the once-over like a common man would have. King Iri has these boys trained.
