That smooth, laconic voice sliced my heart in two, and I froze. Turning around slowly, I met a pair of long-lashed green eyes flecked with gold and hazel, all framed by a sweep of long, fiery hair that rivaled the trees of autumn in his kingdom.
Dorian, King of the Oak Land.
“Your majesty,” exclaimed Shaya happily, giving him a low curtsey. “How are you? How is your domain?”
Dorian smiled and lightly chucked her chin. “Are you afraid my household has fallen apart without you? I confess, it does run a bit less smoothly than before, but we endure what we must. I have no doubts your new mistress has more need of your services than I, so I shall suffer longer for her sake.”
He gave me a pointed look. I said nothing. Shaya glanced between the two of us, her happy mien turning nervous. “If you’ll excuse me, your majesties, I’m going to find some refreshment. I’ll return momentarily.”
I sincerely doubted that, but she departed too quickly for me to protest. I wanted to follow her but was now trapped.
A bit of his showmanship dimmed, but the wit and lazy amusement that constantly cloaked Dorian remained. He always behaved as though he were on a stage, both in his mannerisms and his melodramatic—and often wry—commentary. I guess as a king he kind of was on stage during his life.
“Well, Eugenie, here we are.” Dorian carelessly smoothed down the black velvet of his robe. Gold and red patterns danced around the hems. “You are a vision of sublime beauty, as always.”
“Oh come on,” I exclaimed. “Not from you, of all people. I’m the most shoddily dressed person in this room.”
“No. I saw a scullery maid dressed nearly as badly. A crown really would go a long way to establish your standing. But, barring that, your dress is actually lovely and well-made, even if plain. Wait and watch: you’ll see women wearing copies of it soon. The fact that you can still draw eyes while wearing it is a testament to your beauty and presence. You achieve what most of these trumped-up, painted women cannot, no matter how many layers of heavy, rich fabric cover them up.”
I gestured toward his robe. “You’re covered up in a fair amount of heavy, rich fabric yourself.”
The edges of his lips curled up. “If they bother you, I can remove as many of these layers as you like.”
I rolled my eyes, but the damage was done. With those few words, I once again saw his naked body, smooth and perfect in the moonlight, hovering over mine as I lay bound to his bed. It had been one night, one night only, but it was a night I’d had little luck in forgetting for the last three months. Seeing Dorian stirred it all up again, filling me with confusion over the way my body had responded to such domination.
Long before that night, Dorian had been one of my first allies in the Otherworld. He’d supported Storm King—and would have loved to knock me up—but had stood firm against any notion of rape. He’d wanted me of my own free will. In the end, he’d helped me defeat Aeson and had shown me the fundamentals of using magic.
“Did you give Maiwenn something?” I asked abruptly, steering us elsewhere.
He scrutinized me a moment before answering. “Yes, of course. What was it? Ah. Yes. Bolts of lovely cloth that I’m sure she can do…something…lovely with. My steward picked it out. A paltry present compared to yours, or so I hear.” His eyes tracked across the room to where Maiwenn and Kiyo laughed with some woman I didn’t recognize. “Look at them. Their child will be something to see, don’t you think? They make a very striking couple. I should commission a painter to do a family portrait once the baby arrives. Something they can all treasure for years to come.”
I stiffened. “That’s why you wanted to talk to me, huh? You haven’t changed, Dorian, and I’m not going to stay here and play if you’re just going to try to bait me. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.”
Dorian gave a long-suffering sigh. “You always think so little of me, Eugenie. I wished to speak with you because I wanted to know how you’ve been. I’ve missed you. How do you like being a queen? Your land hasn’t perished…yet…so I’m taking that as a good sign.”
Still irked by the Kiyo jibe, I fixed him with a glare. “I didn’t want to be a queen at all. It’s your fault I’ve gotten into this. If you hadn’t tricked me into claiming the land, I’d be in Tucson right now and away from all of this.” The sting of what he’d done, binding me to the Thorn Land, still itched within me. I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive him for that.
“Not true. You’d still be here, moping around while your lover receives gifts for his child, just as you are right now. And men like the young Rowan prince would still solicit you because whatever other titles come and go, you will always be Storm King’s daughter.”
“I don’t really want to be that either.”
He spread his hands out, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness. “That I cannot change. All I can do with that is help you to develop the powers you inherited, but you’ve already refused my aid there.”
I looked away. “I don’t need your help.” Aside from the grudge I held against him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that more of his “help” would result in me in his bed again.
He took a step toward me. “Have you been teaching yourself?”
I didn’t answer.
“You have been, haven’t you? Or trying to, at least. Odd, considering I distinctly recall you saying you were satisfied with the level of magic you’d reached through my training.” He smiled. “How is that going? Perhaps you’d like my help again?”
I jerked my head back toward him. Too much at this party had ground me down already, and his serpent’s tongue was the point that threatened to break me. “No. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help, okay? I’m happy with what I’m teaching myself. If I advance, fine. If I don’t, fine. It doesn’t matter to me.”
He laughed, a soft and deadly sound that poured over me like honey. “Eugenie, Eugenie. You may lie to other people, you may lie to your kitsune, and you may even lie to yourself. But do not lie to me. I was the one who first taught you to control your magic. I’ve seen how you crave it, how you glow with the rush of that power. I know how it makes you feel because I’ve felt it too. I can see in those lovely violet eyes of yours how passionately you want to tap more of that magic. It’s consuming you.”
“As usual,” I said in a low voice that matched his own, “you’re imagining more than is actually there.”
“And you, as usual, are denying what is there, not to mention your own nature. You are what you are, Eugenie, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can begin doing great things.”
“This conversation is done,” I snapped, turning away.
Dorian’s hand closed around my wrist, and he pulled me toward him with an unexpected harshness. I don’t think he’d meant to do it quite so hard. I let out a small gasp as those fingers tightened against my skin. I wasn’t trapped by any stretch of the imagination, but for half a moment, I could believe I was. The painful restraint on my wrist sent shockwaves of heat through my body, and the scent of cinnamon drifted around me, standing this close to him. My breathing had grown heavy, and I willed it to slow down.
He hadn’t expected that reaction. A slight widening of his eyes showed rarely expressed surprise. Leaning his face toward mine, his thumb stroked the skin on my arm while the rest of the fingers maintained their hold.
“Just like old times, hmm? It seems you haven’t entirely lost your taste for restraint. Yet, like everything else, I’m sure you deny yourself that as well.”
“You think so?” I asked nastily. “You should try fucking Kiyo. Lots of restraint there.”
Amusement lit his face, contrasting with the dark desire in his eyes. “Since I’m presuming you don’t mean you finally bought him a leash, let me say simply that there is a big difference between allowing an animal to ravage you and allowing yourself to be ravaged. One is common. The other is art. It is planned. Crafted, even. Only capable of being done by a master.” His next words came out
so conversationally, we might as well have been discussing the weather. “As it is, I’ve been planning out what I’d like to do the next time we make love. I think I want you to lie on your stomach, with your hands bound to the front of the bed. We’ll have to shift your hips up a bit, put you on your knees just a little, but otherwise you’ll stay prostrate, almost like you’re bowing in humble obeisance as I kneel behind you and take you.” He paused. “Unless you have other suggestions?”
I broke from his grasp and backed up, surprised to find I was shaking.
This was Dorian. The same dangerous, presumptuous, and scheming Dorian I’d first met months ago, no matter the sweetness and charm that poured off of him. He had no right to speak to me like that, not after I’d parted ways over his trick with the Thorn Land, not after I’d told him I wanted to stay with Kiyo.
And yet, he had once been my friend and my teacher and my ally in battle…and my lover. And as I stood there staring at him, I could imagine everything he’d just described. I could feel it. And, God help me, I wanted it. My whole body tingled with the arousal his words wrought.
“I have to go,” I said. It took two tries for my dry mouth to get the words out. “I have to find Shaya.”
He inclined his head politely. “Of course.”
I turned and walked away, but not before I heard him call after me.
“Eugenie? Don’t forget, if you change your mind, my offer still stands. For all things.”
I bit my lip so as not to retort and was so focused on maintaining control that I nearly ran into a woman heading in the direction I’d just come from. She was gorgeous, with red hair that stood out like bright flames against her fair skin. She wore a puff-sleeved dress that matched the sky blue of her long-lashed eyes and reminded me a little of Cinderella’s ball gown. Of course, Disney would have never allowed that much cleavage. The woman stepped gracefully aside, just barely avoiding a collision. And then, to my complete and total shock, she sidled up to Dorian and wrapped herself around him, pressing her lips to his cheeks.
“Ah, there you are,” he said happily. He returned the kiss—except, well, it was on her lips. And lasted awhile. With tongue.
I stood there, frozen, urging myself to ignore them and keep moving. Yet, I couldn’t. Dorian, seeing me still there, gave me one of his grander smiles. “Queen Eugenie, a moment. Have you met my charming young friend yet?”
That, of course, was one of Dorian’s more annoying habits. He knew perfectly well I’d never met her but enjoyed playing the innocent.
“I haven’t,” I said stiffly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Queen Eugenie, may I present Ysabel, one of my subjects in the Oak Land. She’s been spending some time…in the castle.” I took the subtext to mean that said time was specifically being spent in his bed.
Ysabel bowed, giving me a polite “Your majesty.” Yet, when she straightened up, I saw the look in her eyes was anything but polite. There was a distinct hostility there, and it was directed at me. I was a bit taken aback until I realized what it was. Jealousy. This woman was insanely, adamantly jealous of me. She pressed herself closer to Dorian, almost possessively, her hands roaming over his body in the way that was so commonplace among their kind.
“A pleasure,” I replied. I turned around to leave again, having no desire to watch Ysabel grope Dorian. If she wanted to make me jealous, she was wasting her efforts. Dorian and I were finished. There was nothing more between us, nor would there ever be again.
“Dorian’s latest lover,” Shaya explained later.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that out.”
“My understanding is that he went an astonishingly long time without a consort ever since…” She didn’t finish. She was referring to when Dorian and I had been involved.
“How long is a long time?” I asked.
“Mmm…a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks after we broke up? That’s a long time?”
“For King Dorian? Yes. I believe she’s his fourth since then, but she bears a distinct resemblance to all the others.” Shaya looked at me meaningfully.
“So?” I asked, not getting the point.
“Always fair skinned. Always redheads. Violet eyes are harder to find, though, so he’s settled on blue.”
It took me a few moments more to catch on. “Wait. Are you saying Dorian’s been taking lovers that look like me?”
“It could just be a coincidence,” she said diplomatically.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, suddenly freaked out. Had I really made that big of an impression on him?
Shaya paused a moment, face thoughtful. “I don’t think Ysabel likes you very much.”
“I kind of figured that out too. She was trying to make me jealous.” Then, in case there was any question, I added, “But I’m not.”
“As you say,” replied Shaya, voice and face perfectly pleasant.
I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not, but it didn’t matter. I knew the truth. I really wasn’t jealous of Ysabel and Dorian.
Well, not much, anyway.
Chapter Four
We left as soon as etiquette said we could. I tried using Shaya’s argument about eccentric queens doing whatever they wanted, but it didn’t work on her. She said if we didn’t stay a certain amount of time, I’d appear intimidated by Maiwenn. So, we stuck around a bit longer than I liked before finally making formal farewells to the others. Kiyo was preoccupied with a group of well-wishers, but he looked up at my departure and smiled. He mouthed the word soon.
My group rode back in a subdued mood. The urgency was gone, and I think my glum attitude threw a cloud over everyone. Seeing Maiwenn and Kiyo had bothered me more than I liked to admit, and Dorian…well, that was another story. For now, I wanted nothing more than to cross over to my own world, throw on pajamas, and watch mindless TV. Possibly while eating ice cream.
And as our journey continued, ice cream sounded more and more appealing once we crossed back into the Thorn Land. The sun was sinking, but heat still radiated off the sand and rocks. It wouldn’t dissipate for another couple hours, and even at midnight, the temperature probably wouldn’t drop below seventy. I’d changed back to my shorts and sunglasses before leaving Maiwenn’s, so again, the heat didn’t bother me as much as it did the others. Dorian had claimed my sundress would catch on as a fashion trend; I wondered if shorts would as well.
“There’s a village ahead,” murmured Rurik.
I snapped out of my daydreams and followed his gesture. Sure enough, a small cluster of buildings darkened the horizon. Like my castle, it was something more suited to a medieval British landscape than the desert. Considering how infrequently I visited my kingdom, this was the first settlement I’d seen outside of the castle. It unnerved me a little, my discomfort growing when I saw that our road went straight through the town. Damned twisting Otherworld. This village hadn’t been here on our earlier trip.
And for that reason, I knew better than to suggest we go around it. With the way this world worked, a slight deviation could toss us into the Rowan Land or add hours onto our trip. Steeling myself, I tightened my grip on the reins, deciding that this place looked small and wouldn’t take long to clear.
When we entered its outskirts, though, I discovered something that made me lose my resolve. The road was lined with people. It was like everyone in the town had come out to see us pass through. They stood along the sides, staring at my party and again looking like extras from some medieval movie. Except, it must have been a low-budget movie. The people’s clothes were ragged and dirty, their faces gaunt. Everyone seemed too skinny, even the children and babies held in parental arms.
My unease grew as we rode deeper into the heart of the village. I hated crowds and having eyes upon me. There was something discomfiting about this particular group. Their expressions were either completely blank or…well, terrified. Everything was dead silent.
“What are they scared of?” I whispered to Rurik.
H
e gave me an amused glance. “You, of course.”
“Me?” I squeaked. Glancing at my attire, I tried to imagine how out of place I looked here. Was my foreignness that frightening?
“You’re their queen. Everyone knows how you slaughtered Aeson—and that isn’t a particularly heartwarming tale. Likewise, Storm King’s legacy of terror lives on after all these years. You’ve inherited it.”
“So, what, they see me as some kind of tyrant?”
He shrugged. “You’re their queen,” he repeated, as though that explained everything.
I’d never wanted to be queen. I certainly didn’t want to be seen as some kind of despot queen either. I didn’t want these eyes upon me, these eyes that all seemed to be filled with apathy, judgment, and a kind of weary defeat. I breathed a sigh of relief when we reached what looked to be the halfway point. All of a sudden, a man stepped in front of us, bringing us to a halt.
He was an older gentry, tall and gray-haired. He was skinny and clothed only a little better than the rest, though there was an air of dignity and authority that made him stand out. When he saw he had our attention, he swept me a bow so low, his face nearly touched the dusty road.
“To Eugenie, great queen of the Thorn Land, I offer the most humble greetings of your servant, Davros.”
At least, that’s what I think he said. He was bent so low that his words came out muffled. I glanced uneasily at the others in my group, unsure what to do. They all remained silent and looked at me expectantly. Oh, sure. They were full of advice back at Maiwenn’s, but when it came to peasants groveling in the road? That was apparently all me.
“Please, um, stand up,” I managed at last. “Um, Davros.”
He rose, clasping his hands in front of him, looking totally overwhelmed that I’d used his name.
“Thank you, your majesty. I am the mayor of this village. Words cannot express what an honor it is to have you among us.”
Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir Page 39
