In Malice (The Stolen Queen Book 1)

by A. M. Hodges

  "There is something we need to talk about," I utter quietly, my voice incapable of putting more effort into the words. I doesn't matter, I know he can hear me.

  I can't make eye contact with him. If I look at him, I will definitely cry. This entire conversation has only just started and it's already breaking me apart inside. I don't want to hurt him, the thought of doing so has my lungs ceasing their movements, effectively suffocating me. I also don't want to let go of whatever is blooming between me and Josiah, the thought of that has my heart in a vice grip.

  Oh god. I'm dying. This is it. I am literally going to die from a panic attack.

  Before I can keep going, I launch myself out of the bed and start pacing around the tent with my hands clutched inside my hair, like pulling it can somehow relieve the growing pressure inside my head. Before long I am doubled over with my hands on my knees, desperately trying to breathe as black spots dot my vision. My chest is physically hurting, and it feels like a ten-ton weight is crushing me, incessantly trying to push me into the floor until I disappear.

  A groan draws my attention and I look up to see Jeb struggling to get out of bed. I open my mouth to try to tell him to stop but all that comes out is hyper ventilating and sobs. He makes it to me before his strength gives out, our arms grasping onto each other before we collapse into a pile on the ground.

  His arms lock around me and he holds me as tight as his strength will allow while he begins humming to me softly once again. I sob and sob into his chest, the flood gates of all the emotions I've been holding for weeks finally open. He waits patiently and continues his humming until my breathing finally returns to normal.

  "I am so sorry," I sniffle, not even explaining what I am sorry for.

  "Shhh, it's okay my love," he gently hooks his index finger under my chin and forces my eyes up to meet his own. I try to determine what to say, once again floundering on where to start. His eyes search mine as the corner of his lips turn up into a smile full of empathy and understanding.

  "I know," he admits.

  My brain starts spiraling again. I open my mouth to begin what I am sure is an endless babbling train of nonsense in an attempt to explain, but he stops me with a soft shake of his head.

  "You are my mate, Krasivaya. Everything you feel, I feel. Everything you know, I know. Your heart is my heart. I can feel how confused you are, and how the guilt is eating you alive. But I need you to listen to me," he cups my face gently, no anger or resentment anywhere near his features.

  "You are my mate. Nothing about you, since the second I met you, has been normal. Your powers aren't normal. Your upbringing wasn't normal. You, my love, aren't normal. You're extraordinary. There is so much that we are learning as we go. This is just another thing we must learn. Just know that no matter what happens, we face it together. This is no different. We will figure it out," he promises.

  I do not deserve this man.

  He smirks at the thought that I must have unintentionally projected down the bond.

  "Te tyebya di, Krasivaya."

  I lean into his kiss and I reply softly before his lips meet mine.

  "I love you, too."

  ∞∞∞

  Josiah arrives at the tent the next morning with a sac already packed for our trip. Like yesterday, he is impassive and bored.

  Almost like this is nothing more than an inconvenience for him. I roll my eyes at him from my chair and go back to sharpening the daggers in my lap.

  "Are you ready to go?" he asks tersely.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes for the second time in two minutes. Before I can respond, Jeb speaks up.

  "Cut the shit, Josiah," he scolds.

  I don't miss the shock on Josiah's face as his eyes dart between his brother and me. I give him a simple shrug before I return to my task. This is between them. I've said my piece, to both of them. While the conversation Josiah and I started isn't finished yet, the one Jeb and I had been. Now it's their turn to get on the same page.

  "You forget, you are my brother, and she is my mate. You and I share a bond as twins just as much as she and I do as mates," he begins, raising a brow at his brother, "I feel what she feels, and I can read you like a book. I always have."

  "When everyone is ready, we will move for Valterra. Rashana will be there and she will have answers. Until we have them, this is what this is. Now, you will treat her with respect and stop acting like she is insignificant to you, because we both know that's a lie."

  Deafening silence fills the tent. I can read the hesitancy all over Josiah's face and see Jeb's patience with his brother slowly waning. Yep, there's those crickets again.

  "Are we understood?" Jeb crosses his arms over his chest, somehow still managing to exude dominance while restricted to a bed.

  Josiah glances at me and I smirk at him, not even the smallest bit inclined to bail him out of this standoff with his twin. I see the moment that he gives in.

  "Yes brother, we're understood."

  Jeb grins in triumph and I finally put aside the sharpening stone I was using and sheath my daggers.

  "Good," Jeb relaxes looking highly pleased with himself.

  "Now take our girl to blow off some steam. She deserves it."

  I get up from my chair and saunter over to give him a kiss goodbye.

  "See you soon," I croon.

  I wink at Josiah as I push passed him, purposefully shoulder checking him. We still have a conversation to finish, and I’m still very much annoyed with him. I refuse to let him hide from me again, and I’m going to make sure that he knows it. This is going to be fun.

  Chapter 42

  Before we exit the camp, Josiah tosses something at me that I am forced to catch at the last minute. The smirk on his face indicates he definitely meant for it to hit me in the face. The charm and swagger I've grown to appreciate the last few weeks are back in place instead of the icy mask.

  "Go get changed. I borrowed something from Josie since you won’t be needing armor while were gone."

  Honestly, everything in me is fighting to ignore the command. My irritation with him has me feeling a bit defiant, and I'd like nothing more than to tell him to shove it. I cross my arms over my chest, warning of my impending petulance, and he merely cocks an eyebrow at me in challenge.

  "Either you change yourself, or I'll do it for you," the threat travels deliciously down my spine.

  As inclined as I am to take him up on that offer, just to see if I can call his bluff, I know that there are things that we need to discuss and get out in the open first. I stick my tongue out at him, my last little act of defiance, before I storm to the bathroom tent. I finger comb the braids out of my hair and strip out of my armor.

  When I finally acknowledge the garment that he tossed at me, a shocked chuckle is lodged in my throat. He didn't provide me with alternate shoes, a pair of pants, or a tunic to wear. Nope. What he gave me is strappy cotton slip that barely touches the middle of my thighs. The royal blue garment plunges down to the middle of my back, ensuring that I can't wear a bra, and the spaghetti straps flimsily hold up the sweetheart neckline. It is most definitely not Josie's. I wonder who he conned into creating this flimsy piece of cotton that I wouldn't even call a dress.

  If this is the game he wants to play, I accept the challenge.

  I'm positive it's one I'll win. This was certainly a joke on his part. He probably expected me to come storming out in search of clothing of my own. I'm not doing that. I'm calling his bluff this time. Let the games begin.

  I arrange my hair into a messy bun and pull some strands free to frame my face, effectively showing off the generous amount of skin that would have been covered by my long hair. Then, I pull on my black leather boots that lace up to the knee and secure my dagger sheathes on my thighs. I pile my under-garments and armor in the corner, having no doubts that they'll be returned to my tent for me. The cocky grin is already forming on my face as I exit the

  tent.

  His back is to me when I approach h
im.

  "Ready to go," my voice comes out dripping with feigned innocence.

  He turns around and the grin I catch a glimpse of tells me that my suspicions were correct. He didn't expect me to wear it. He was either expecting me to come out in a new pair of pants and a tunic or still in my armor. His grin drops immediately when he sees that isn't at all what I'm wearing, and his mouth damn near drops to the ground. My ego purrs at the fact that I put that look on his face.

  His eyes start at my boot clad feet and slowly travel their way up my body to my face and I see his Adam's apple bob. He glances around and his mouth moves in a struggle to force words out. I turn in a circle, pretending that it's to look around in confusion when really, it's to give him a shot of the back of the very racy dress. When I look over my shoulder at him, his eyes are glued to the exposed skin of my back.

  "Is everything okay?"

  I should receive an award for my acting skills honestly. My voice comes out genuinely confused.

  My question seems to shake him out of the reverie that is going on inside his head and he quickly masks his dumb-struck expression with and easy grin. He lazily tucks his fingers into his pockets, appearing to be the picture of nonchalance.

  "Everything is perfect. Let's go," he holds out his arm for me to take.

  When we reach the camp's entrance there are two horses waiting. A quick expression of worry crosses his features, because he obviously didn't expect me to ride a horse in this. I threw a wrench in his plans by actually wearing the dress. No reason to stop the game now, we only just started playing, and I've only begun to have my fun.

  I step up and fit my foot into the stirrup before swinging my leg over the horse, forcing the dress to rise higher on my skin as I get comfortable on the saddle. His gaze flicks to my completely exposed leg, the fabric bunched up just below my hip before he anxiously rubs his palm over the back of his neck. I grin mischievously at him and he looks up at the sky like he is praying to whatever Gods will hear him. Seeming to conclude that he is on his own, he lets out a husky laugh under his breath before shaking his head and getting on his horse.

  ∞∞∞

  We ride in silence, my horse dutifully following his own without the need for direction from me. I relax into the saddle and take in the passing scenery. I haven't had much time to soak in the beauty of the strange new land that I was born to rule. Flowers burst with the brightest of colors, tiny creatures patter around lazily as we amble through the forest. Even the trees are different here, which I strangely hadn't noticed until now.

  Every so often I catch sight of what I would have called Pixies a year ago, flitting through the trees and dancing on the flowers. I catch the delicate jingle of their laughter as they chase each other through nature.

  "What are those called?" I ask the real Pixie ahead of me.

  "Those are Sprigs. Devious little creatures. They are the tricksters of the realm. Most of the human lore about Faeries comes from them," he grumbles as a Sprig lands on his shoulder. The rosecolored creature dances around like his body is her stage, twirling in and out of his hair before wrapping some of it around her little shoulders like a boa and striking a pose.

  I giggle and he swats her away gently despite the look of exasperation on his face.

  "They don't have a serious bone in their pesky little bodies," he huffs.

  She lands right back on his shoulder and four of her friends join her, dancing around dramatically in each other’s arms in a circle around her as she sways and flails her arms around like she is directing a symphony. He groans and swats them away again, sending them scurrying over to me. They land on the saddle in front of me and drop into graceful curtsies before continuing their waltz. I begin humming a tune for them to dance to, my body swaying with them, and Josiah snorts as he looks over his shoulder at me before shaking his head.

  More Sprigs catch sight of our antics and join their friends. Soon, I'm surrounded by the dancing creatures on my saddle, on my shoulders, and weaving through my hair that is now free from its bun and tumbling down my back. I can't fight the smile on my face as I sway with them, their glee tingling in my ears as one tune turns into another. I also notice that they are all female.

  "Are all of the Sprigs female?" I giggle as one flies up a bops me on the nose before continuing her twirls through the air.

  "Yes," he looks back at me and I can see the grin he's trying to mask as he takes in the sight of the dancing creatures surrounding me, "They are born from the flowers in spring, when they first bloom."

  "I saw a movie like that once," I hold out my hand as two Sprigs dance in my palm, "An old woman finds a flower one day. When it blooms and the petals open, there is a tiny girl inside. She sings and dances with the farm animals and goes on an adventure in search of her Faery prince. It was one of my favorites when I was

  little."

  He laughs under his breath, "Sounds like a Sprig. They do love their singing and dancing. Though her prince would most likely be a Sprite. They are the male counter parts to the Sprigs and are born of the first harvest seeds."

  I don't have the heart to tell him that it’s just a story. It's cute to watch him try to rationalize my world. After a few more tunes, the Sprigs dart away to continue their mischief. A few minutes later, I feel a slight weight on my head and once again hear the jingle of their laughter before they disappear. I reach up to see what has been placed there and feel soft petals. I pull the thing off my head and see that they have fashioned me a crown of flowers.

  Josiah glances back at me and his eyes beam with pride as the grin he's been fighting spreads over his features.

  "They have made an offering to their Queen. It seems that they too have accepted you as theirs."

  I smile down at the assortment of flowers and colors in my hands before gently placing the crown back on my head. Josiah pulls us to a stop at a riverbank before dismounting his horse and coming to my side. He smiles up at me and offers me his hand.

  "You truly look like a Faery Queen now," he beams, his voice warm like honey.

  I take his offered hand and let him help me to the ground before wandering to the river. I pull of my boots and sink down into the grass before slipping my feet into the glassy waters. Tilting my chin up to the sky, I stretch my arms out behind me and close my eyes, basking in the little bit of peace I've been given and soaking up the sun's rays.

  "Beautiful," Josiah gasps softly, "Stay just like that."

  I hear him rustling around in the many bags that he has strapped to his horse before hearing his boots stop a small distance away. I peak out of one eye at him and see him settling in with a canvas in front of him, potted paints scattered around him in the grass. I want to ask him where he even got the supplies, but he is already hard at work, his brow lowered in concentration as he makes deliberate strokes with his brush. I close my eye and return to my basking, enjoying the thought of him painting once again.

  I stay this way until the sun drops behind the horizon and, with the natural light fading, Josiah sets aside his brushes. He looks so much more content than he did hours ago. Every so often, I would peak at him and see the tension slowly draining from his body. How amazing it must feel to create something so beautiful instead of destroying. I haven't even seen the painting yet and I know it is stunning.

  "Can I see it?" I ask pulling my feet from the river as he collects his paints and cleans his brushes in the water.

  He watches me carefully for a few minutes, chewing on his lip as he debates whether to share this part of him with me or not.

  Finally, he nods and goes back to cleaning his brushes.

  I meander over and gasp at the work of art he created, careful not to touch the still drying paint. He captured my likeness perfectly. My hair is draped over my shoulder, falling in waves down my front as I lean back on my hands. A serene look is on my face with a soft blush on my cheeks as I tilt my chin to the sun. I can practically feel the rays warming my skin in the painting, the colors of the flower
s in my hair and my dress standing out against my pale skin. I can feel the soft grass beneath my fingertips and the cool water running through my toes. He even depicted my markings perfectly down my arms, every single one of them. I truly do look like a Faery Queen.

  "Josiah, this is breath taking."

  He blushes and comes over to stand by my side.

  "I make all of my paints myself, from flowers and berries. I add a little water to make it more malleable. If you lean in close enough, you can smell them," he explains timidly.

  I do just that, my heightened senses picking up the grass from the greens and the sweet aroma of multiple flowers and berries. I grin at the complex masterpiece before turning to stand in front of him. I gently place my left hand on his chest, directly over his thundering heart, and look up into his eyes.

  "It's absolutely perfect. Thank you."

  He clears his throat and tries to force an easy grin to hide the nervousness he is feeling.

  "I told you I would paint you one day."

  I gingerly raise my other hand and lightly trace his scar, as I have done countless times before. My gaze drops to his lips as I lean in closer, giving him ample time to stop me and pull away. He doesn't, although I feel his body tense beneath my touch. He remains perfectly still as I continue my journey before finally pressing my lips to his.