by Frost Kay
Her pace slowed as she neared the royal wing, and she pulled the pastries from her pocket, hoping they weren’t too squished. She exhaled slowly and stepped from the servants’ corridor. Her footsteps echoed on the marble and then her boots squeaked as the floor transitioned to a deep, dark, polished wood. Tempest glanced around in confusion. Where were all the guards?
Something wasn’t right.
The hair along the nape of her neck stood, and goosebumps prickled along her forearms. She paused and glanced down the empty hallway that eventually led to her rooms and listened carefully. Nothing. It was too still.
Someone is following you.
Tempest feigned calmness and began walking once again as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her ears strained as she listened for any sign of pursuit. The scuff of a boot against stone was her only warning. She clutched the pastries with her left hand and grabbed the hilt of her sword as she spun to face the intruder.
No one was there.
The bastard was hiding.
“Show yourself,” she demanded, settling into a fighting stance as she pulled her sword free from the scabbard.
“But I’ve been so enjoying our little game of hide and seek,” crooned a familiar, haughty voice.
The curtains at the end of the hallway were swept away and out stepped the prince.
Winter’s bite. Just what she needed.
Maven was thoroughly disheveled, his dark hair and clothing so rumpled, she had no doubt he’d thoroughly celebrated the night before in bed with a woman or two. Like father, like son.
Tempest schooled her expression. There was something about him that sent chills skittering down her spine. An emptiness in his eyes. No, that wasn’t right. It was the darkly calculated way he looked at her, like he was thinking of a thousand different ways to hurt her, all while wearing a smile.
He tilted his chin upward and sniffed in distaste. “Men’s trousers? I thought my father would have trained you better by now.”
“I assure you, no man would be able to wear these trousers, my lord. They were made for a woman.” She cocked a hip out, pulling his attention to the curve there. Maybe she could distract him enough that he would go away.
“I suppose they are flattering in a crass sort of way,” he drawled. “Must be difficult to remove, though. A pity,” he murmured.
Tempest slid her sword back into the scabbard at her hip and shrugged. “No more than a corset.”
“Trousers, corsets, and sneaking about.” Maven sighed. “We’ll never make a lady of you. Speaking of which, where have you been? You weren’t in your chambers.”
“You were in my room?”
He waved a hand at her and sauntered a few steps forward. “There is no place I cannot go in the palace. It is all mine. No one and nothing can keep me from what I want. Now, answer me. Where have you been?” Suspicion saturated his tone.
Maven had every right to be leery of her. She should have been asleep. It wasn’t even dawn yet, after all. She had no reason to be out so early.
“Where I am and what I’m doing is of no concern to you,” she replied, trying her best to project haughtiness right back at the prince. Then she added a bow for good measure. “Your Royal Highness, you say I was not in my room. Were you looking for me for something in particular?”
“I wanted to see what you thought of the attack on my sister’s life. So, where were you?” His eyes narrowed. “You may be betrothed to my father, but you’re not queen yet. I am your prince. You will answer me.”
She held out the pastries in her left hand. “After the night Princess Ansette had, I thought she might like something yummy.”
“The palace could have provided something twice as scrumptious,” he pointed out, taking another step in her direction.
“Probably, but there’s nothing better than a well-meant gift from a friend after experiencing something horrific.” Tempest held her ground and took a step toward the prince, determined not to let him frighten her. “And, as for my thoughts on the attack against your sister, more information is needed before I can truly make any sort of sense of the atrocity.”
“What diplomatic words,” Maven sneered. “Maybe a lady can be made out of you yet.” He paused and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his waistcoat. “Does my father know about your good deeds?”
That was a threat if she ever heard one. She kept all expression from her face. “Feel free to tell him.” Tempest beamed at him. “I’m sure the king will appreciate my good deeds toward his favorite child.” That may be too far, but she had to come away from this conversation triumphant. Bullies like the prince always got worse until someone stood up to them. “I’m sure your father would be curious about why you thought it prudent to wake his queen-to-be before the sun had risen to question her about the horrors of the night,” she said, trying to get the upper hand. “To wake your future queen from her sleep and to enter her bedchamber—”
“But you were not asleep.”
“Perhaps I could not sleep because I was so disturbed by what I saw,” Tempest countered. “As I’ve said twice now, it’s none of your—”
“I am the heir to the throne,” Maven bit out testily, anger leaking onto his face. “It is my concern.”
“The last time I checked, I answered to your father.”
“You gutter-side slut.” He stormed toward Tempest until he was barely a foot from her. The prince towered over, but she forced herself to remain unperturbed. He was trying to intimidate her, and she wouldn’t stand for it. Prince or not, if he got one more inch closer, she’d teach him some manners, the king be damned. Hell, Destin would probably thank her.
“What fine manners you possess, my lord,” she said calmly, her left hand curling around the pastries.
“You should be careful what you do and say, Lady Tempest,” Maven whispered, his voice soft and menacing. “You might find yourself playing right into the hands of someone who means to ensnare you.”
“I’m an assassin. It’s my job to do the trapping.”
His lips split into a wide, mocking smile. Though, in the space of a second, it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. Tempest held stock-still as he raised his hand and fingered a curl that had escaped her braid.
“You’ve been warned.”
He released her hair and turned on his heel, leaving with such abruptness that she found herself rooted to the spot as he disappeared down the adjacent hallway. She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked slowly, her heart pounding.
Why had the prince been looking for her in the first place? They had little need for each other, other than to throw barbs back and forth. Why bring up his sister’s attack? It was clear there was no love lost between the two siblings.
He entered your room.
Maven was hunting for something. He was suspicious of her, but she suspected he was leery of everyone. Was it because he’d found evidence of her treason? She brushed that thought away. If he had actual proof, he’d have cast her to the lions already.
He was in your room.
Had Madrid let him inside? What was the prince after? He’d never sought her chambers before.
Ansette.
Her suspicion of the prince grew stronger with every passing second. What if he had sanctioned the attack on his sister? Tempest hadn’t missed the flash of anger that had crossed the prince’s face when she’d said favorite child. Destin gained nothing from his daughter’s death, but the prince…the prince had everything to lose if he lost the favor of the king. Ansette could very well be named the successor of the throne if Maven caused too many issues.
Troubled, she made her way back to her chambers, noting Madrid was now stationed down the hallway, speaking in a low tone to the captain of the guards. She slipped into her room and frowned at the lack of servants. Why was the princess left alone?
Ansette stood by the southern window, her thin arms wrapped around herself. The girl glanced Tempest’s way, before staring out the win
dow once again.
Tempest closed the door and padded toward the princess. She halted, her cloak fluttering around her feet. “You should not be near the window, my lady,” she said softly.
The girl nodded. “I know, but I feel like I can breathe better when I can see the outside.”
That was something Tempest understood. She held out the wrapped pastries.
“What are these?” Ansette whispered.
“Whenever I had a particularly hard day, my uncles would bring me a pastry from a nearby bakery. It didn’t make the problem go away, but the tiny gift always gave me some comfort.”
The princess’s eyes filled with tears, and she gingerly took one of the treats from Temp’s outstretched hand before throwing herself into Tempest’s arms. Tempest huffed as Ansette hugged her fiercely.
“Thank you,” she cried.
Tempest gingerly wrapped her arms around the princess. “It was nothing, truly.”
Ansette pulled back and wiped her eyes. “In our world, it is everything.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Madrid popped his head inside. “You have half an hour before I am to retrieve you for the execution.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as he closed the door.
The princess unwrapped the almond pastry and took a big bite. “So good.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Tempest muttered, her mind racing. “Did you see your brother this morning?”
“He arrived early to check on me,” the girl said around another mouthful of food. “It was a surprise, to be sure.”
Tempest massaged her forehead with the palm of her hand, beyond frustrated. Just what was the prince up to? Was he simply trying to create chaos—taking matters into his own hands to pin another crime on the rebellion? Or was he vying for the Crown by attempting to take out any possible threats to his future, including his sister?
She shivered. The second option felt too possible to her for her to discount it. People had killed for much less.
She had enemies coming from all sides, and no way to defend herself from all of them at once.
Thirteen
King Destin
The guards said nothing as he entered Tempest’s room.
He closed the door behind him and observed the quiet space. His Hound was quite meticulous in how she kept her rooms. A splash and a soft curse alerted the king as to where his betrothed was. In the bathroom. What fun it would be to surprise her, only they didn’t have time for that type of frolicking. He contented himself by nosing about the room, checking drawers here and there. One could never be sure what kind of secrets a lady kept.
Destin drifted into her wardrobe. Untouched dresses lined the walls. He ran his fingers along the fine fabric and jeweled bodices. Many women would kill for such a treasure trove of high fashion, but not Tempest. She was loath to wear extravagant garments. Such a fickle creature she was. He paused next to the gown she’d worn for their betrothal ceremony and sniffed the fabric. The hair along his forearms stood on end as the scents of lavender, mint, and something wholly feminine filled his nose. What was it about her that he found so alluring? Over the years, he’d had the pleasure of some of the most astonishing beauties in the kingdom, and yet, while Tempest wasn’t a particular beauty, there was something that kept him wanting more.
You like her mind.
For someone so young and unseasoned, she was the perfect puzzle. No doubt her unusual upbringing had something to do with it. Even the most bloodthirsty women he’d come across still didn’t like the nitty and gritty of real violence. The Lady Hound, on the other hand… She didn’t bat an eye at the gore of the prior night. That was the type of queen Heimserya needed for what was to come.
At least, it was until she proved herself to no longer be useful.
In the meantime, he’d revel in the challenges she gave him. He would rise to eagerly meet the occasion until the novelty of his new wife grew old.
The door to the bathroom squeaked, and the king moved to the opening of the wardrobe. He leaned against the molding and waited for his betrothed to emerge. Tempest had a few questions to answer. Someone had tried to murder his precious daughter—the only member of his family he held any modicum of affection for—and he needed to make sure he could trust her. She’d proven nothing but faithful so far, but one could never be too careful. It was those who looked innocent who were sometimes the most dangerous. His father had taught him that lesson.
His betrothed took one step from the bathroom, a silk dressing gown clinging to her wet skin in patches. He grinned as she halted, inhaled deeply, and then pushed the skirt of her robe away, revealing a dagger strapped to her creamy upper thigh.
How delightful she was.
“There’s no need for that, darling,” he crooned.
Her gaze snapped to him, and she released the skirt of the robe, hiding her body from him once more.
A pity.
“I let myself in,” he drawled when she said nothing.
“I can see that.”
He arched a brow, and, as if remembering herself, she dipped into a low curtsey.
“My apologies, my lord. I was not expecting you.” Her attention darted to the clock on the nightstand. “Is it time already? I was told I had at least a quarter of an hour before you expected me.”
“True.” He eyed her unbound hair. “Consider me pleasantly surprise to find you in such a state. Although, as I’ve been told by many women, getting ready takes much time.”
His Hound actually smiled at that. “I’m not sure how so much time is wasted, but I can assure you, I’ll be presentable if you’ll give me fifteen minutes.”
That was a politely worded invitation for him to leave if he’d ever heard one. Destin pushed away from the door jamb and approached her slowly. There were things he needed to discuss with her before they left this room. If the conversation happened while she got dressed, so be it.
He ran the fingers of his left hand over the loose sleeve and across the shoulder of her robe, and gently traced part of her collarbone with his forefinger. Physical touch always seemed to rile her.
“Where have you been, my lady?” he asked softly, watching her expression closely.
“Bathing as of recently.”
“And before?”
She gestured to a pair of damp boots near the fire. “I retrieved some breakfast for the princess.”
He cocked his head, smoothing his hand down her arm again. “Does she not have servants for that type of thing?”
“She does, my lord.”
“So why then were you spotted outside the castle?”
Tempest sighed. “I wanted to make her feel safe.”
“A legion of guards and Hounds protecting her is not enough?”
Her gray eyes met his. “Do you have something that makes you feel grounded? Any time I had a horrid day, my uncles would always bring me a treat from a nearby bakery. It brought me comfort. I wished to do the same for Ansette.” She oozed earnestness.
The tension in his shoulders drifted away, and he smiled. “That was very kind.”
She shrugged, very unladylike, and shifted on her feet. “It was nothing. Anyone would have done it.”
“Perhaps so, but not for the reasons you’ve expressed.” Destin crooked a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back. “Why dress as a commoner? My men reported that you were not in uniform.”
“It’s far easier to move about when dressed like a commoner. It’s much better for me to travel under the guise of anonymity. Almost from birth, I’ve been trained to blend in. I cannot blend in when wearing jewels and ballgowns.”
Destin cocked his head to the side as he considered Tempest’s answer. She seemed honest, and he agreed with her reasoning, but he had never met a truly honest woman. They always had secret agendas.
“Would you lie to me, Temp?” he murmured. “About anything?”
“You are trying to trap me in a complicated answer,” she retorted. Her eyes were clear and st
raightforward, her mouth a hard line.
“I wish to know the truth. Now, answer me.”
“I would lie to protect your life. That was part of the oath I swore when I officially became a member of the Hounds. I would lie, cheat, and murder if it meant protecting the crown. It is my duty. If this is not an acceptable answer, then you may send me away. I will not protest.”
Her shoulders pulled back as she stood to her full height, which was nothing compared to his. Destin grinned at the stubborn point of her chin and the way she braced herself as if he’d toss her out that very moment. It was the absolute last thing on his mind. Her answer had been charming. It was well-spoken, and true. Now, all that was left was to kiss away her attitude.
The king leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
For the briefest of moment, she froze beneath him. Destin wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her body against his own as her mouth softened and obediently parted when the tip of his tongue flicked across her bottom lip. He smiled into the kiss. It was a heady feeling to make the Lady Hound lose some of her composure.
Heat surged though him. This was the farthest he had pushed his queen-to-be so far, but that excitement quickly dampened. Tempest obediently gave him what he asked for. There was no challenge or passion in her kiss. It was as if she was merely acting the part of his future wife, taking part in the act only as long as Destin wished for it to continue. Maybe most men wanted a moldable wife in bed, but the king wanted someone to fight—to subdue.
He pulled away and brushed his nose along hers. “Do you not like this?” he murmured.
She blinked at him, color high in her cheeks. “I know nothing of such things, sire. I only wish to please you.”
“You will,” he assured her, releasing her chin and pushing loose hair from her face. “Do not worry yourself. I delight in your innocence. I’ll simply have to work out how to entice you once we are married. It will be a learning experience for us both.” He looked forward to owning her body and breaking her in slowly. It was a challenge he’d meet with eagerness.
