by Brindi Quinn
Come to think of it, I had been surprised when Windley wasn’t interested in Sestilia’s advances, despite her dazzling appearance.
“And because I desire your cake, I notice your frosting most of all. I have no reason to bother with anyone else’s. That’s why it didn’t occur to me that your frosting and Flora’s might be similar. I had to envision you standing side by side before I saw it.”
“But isn’t Flora’s cake good too?” All that kindness and warmth.
“Sure, it’s good, just not the one I’d want to eat for the rest of my life. Some cake is too sweet, you know? It’s rare to find a slice that gets more delicious the longer you eat it.” He stopped. “You’re grinning. Does that mean you understand?”
Finally. I told him so with a nod.
With relief apparent, Windley relaxed in his chair. “I’ve always found it strange that humans go for the frosting first,” he mused.
“It’s because it can take us a long time to get a feel for the cake. The frosting is easier for us. For what it’s worth, I noticed your cake before I noticed your frosting too, and I enjoy them both… even if you’re full of shit.”
Now he was the one grinning.
“You know, Edius told me I was cute for a human. Does that mean he was talking about my cake?”
“Edius?”
Oh yes, I had nearly forgotten. We had many more important things to discuss than cake, and poor Flora was still hiding out in the room down the hall.
I quickly recounted to Windley all that had happened in my time with Edius, Pip and Charmagne, making sure to tell him that Pip had survived his run-in with my power.
Likewise, Windley told me what had transpired after we had passed out on the hill. Edius’s guess was right: Windley had stepped away to relieve himself, not realizing that he had flashed his power the night before. Only after I was taken did he put the pieces together. He knew he needed to get back to me quickly and that the quickest way was by prancelope, but he and Rafe were too heavy to ride one together, and the creatures were too unruly to ride without beguilement, so Rafe was forced to continue on to the coast alone, where he would pact Soleil and convince her to help in our fight against Ascian.
“I wasn’t all that disappointed to part ways with him, tell you the truth. Give him some time to cool off. He was a touch grouchy with me over losing you. Chap’s no fun when he’s in a mood.”
“But what if Luna comes for him while we’re apart?!”
“A risk we had to take. She hasn’t reappeared since you fought her, so we’re wagering that you wounded her enough to keep her out of commission. Let’s wait to panic until she returns to the sky. With any luck we’ll make it back to Rafe before that happens.”
Not a very solid plan, but we had little choice.
“There were a few places I thought Ascian might take you, Abardo—which is where we used to live—being one of them. When I felt Pip’s power there, I thought maybe he was helping me out… until I arrived at the gate. Turns out Ascian’d damn near hexed the whole town. If I got too close to one of his pets, he’d know. I had to be sure you were there before risking it. That’s why I sent Flora to check. She was only supposed to scout the house, but she did one better and brought you back.”
So she was brave in addition to being kind and warm.
Worthy of my respect. I would be sure to show it to her from here on out.
“That reminds me, on the way back, Flora said that you ‘saved each other.’ I know how she saved you, but how did you save her?”
“Oh. Well…” Windley made a face. “I told you she allowed me the means to escape while her father slept? The truth is, I didn’t leave immediately. Instead, I entered that bastard’s bedchamber and drained him while he slept. I hadn’t done so sooner because drinking even a little of him made me nauseous—the taste of him was putrid—but I knew I couldn’t leave Flora alone with him if I was leaving for good, so I powered through it. It was his energy that carried me to the Emerald Wood.”
“…You killed her father?”
“It wasn’t only me he treated poorly,” said Windley quietly.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Shame? I’ve taken many lives out of necessity. That was the only one I took for pleasure.”
However dark, at least it was the truth.
“I understand,” I told him—because the thought of killing Charmagne didn’t seem an entirely unpleasurable task. “So what now? Do you really think we’ll need Soleil’s help to defeat Ascian? With them cooped up in that house, it seems I could take them out in one swipe. Edius mentioned I wounded Ascian last time.”
“No, Merr, not only because Pip’s there, either. Seeing the state of Abardo, Ascian’s got more minions in his coven than just those three. There’s no way the three of them could have hexed an entire town. I don’t think we should mess with him until Rafe finishes his pact.”
I did not agree, but I would respect it, for I did not know the true danger of Ascian nor his ‘coven.’ A good queen listens to her advisors when she lacks knowledge.
“Fine then. We’ll rest here a night before venturing to the coast.”
With that, Windley went to fetch Flora who kindly offered me a bath and change of clothes. In her washroom, she had laid out a myriad of candles of varying heights, each with dried wax drippings from prior use. The shelf over her tub basin contained jars of colored oils and soaps that culminated into a sagy, florally aroma. As the water marinated me, I tried to let it soak away any remaining jealousies dirtying my soul.
Flora was a good person and a friend to Windley.
Only a troll would fault her for that.
With my hair wet and flat, I was certain I looked even more like her now. Maybe that’s why I hesitated with my hand on the antique knob of her bathroom door.
I hesitated even longer when I realized I could hear their voices, however slight, trailing over from the kitchen.
“You’re a man now, Windalloy. And you came back with a queen on your arm. Who would have thought? If you marry her, will you become a king?”
Windley laughed. “No, it doesn’t work like that. The north doesn’t have kings. Royals are supposed to partner with other royals, mainly for producing royal offspring, but they don’t give the male a title. It isn’t like in storybooks.”
“Offspring?”
“Er, yeah…”
“She doesn’t know much about your kind, does she?” said Flora.
I detected a hint of sadness.
“I’m trying to tell her… slowly. I know it isn’t fair, but keep in mind, I forgot a lot of it too, until recently. Besides, we would never be allowed to wed. If she keeps me, it would be as a paramour.”
“Windalloy… I fear you’ll have your heart broken in the end.”
Now I detected more than just a hint.
Why would she say that?
Worse, why would Windley agree with her?
“I know,” he said. “It’s worth it, even if fleeting.”
There was silence but for the clanging of a pot. It seemed Flora was keeping her promise to fix us a meal. I expected she was as wonderful a cook as she was a homemaker.
“By the way—” Windley cleared his throat. “She thinks you two look alike.”
“We do. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
My jealousy wasn’t gone, after all. And neither was my guilt.
Flora’s reaction was so much more reasonable than mine. She understood him worlds better than I did. I was ignorant, though I had long thought myself a champion for big words like acceptance and justice.
Sometimes, we can’t control the way we feel. Sometimes, the line between heroine and villain isn’t so crisp.
I did my best to accept my feelings and whelve them, deep inside, where no one could see them. I may not be able to control how I felt, but I could control how I let it affect my treatment of others.
“Thank you, Flora,” I told her as I reunited w
ith them at the table. “I haven’t felt so clean since leaving the castle. I meant to tell you before, I’m envious of your cottage—it’s lovely and rustic like the forest hideaway I use to conduct business with my neighboring queen, Beau.”
“Conduct business?” Windley rolled his eyes. “Don’t you mean drink mead and flirt with guards?”
“Quiet, pinkie.”
The color of his hair was now a vibrant shade of fuchsia.
“Please, Queen Merrin, won’t you have some pheasant pie? The carrots and potatoes are from my garden, and I’m told the flavor of them is quite rich.”
Damn it all, Flora was an excellent cook—a better meal than any we had had since leaving Sestilia’s and without all the awkward tension of the spider queen’s lair—and after dinner, warm and kind Flora offered to braid my hair, tucking it around my head like a wreath, the way young girls often wore it at the Clearing’s gilded lunar festival.
“There. Now you’ve a crown, just as you should.” To Windley she said prudently: “Every queen needs a crown.”
“I prefer it untamed,” he said with a flick of his wrist. Then he offered his hand to me like a prince. “Well, my queen, may I escort you to bed?”
In reality, it was well past midnight by this time, closer to morning than to eve, but that hardly mattered. Our sleep schedule hadn’t been right for weeks.
Flora was now tinkering around at the sink, so she didn’t see the way my face reddened as I stared down at Windley’s offered hand.
But Windley saw it, and it made his mouth curl its most dangerous curl yet.
For I was remembering what he had told me the other night on the hill:
‘The first time I make love to you, it shall be in a bed.’
Chapter 15
Have Your Cake
Phew. What a whirlwind, guys. You’re still with me, right? Have you made it through the sticky parts so far? Will you follow me through to the end?
Flora’s bedroom was—
Wait, you don’t really want to hear about Flora’s bedroom in any great detail, do you? You can imagine what kind of bedroom she might have? Long, flowy curtains, flowers on the nightstand, a quilt she patched herself?
Right then, let’s get on with it.
Windley didn’t release my hand all the way to the bedroom Flora had so graciously offered us weary travelers. He didn’t walk beside me, though; he was leading me, drawing me along after him while I managed atop unstable feet that were suddenly in cahoots with my hot, hot face.
By now, Windley and I had spent several nights side-by-side, curled in each other’s arms, but never behind walls, and never in a bed. The thought of it proved a nervy one. I, the lion, was suddenly a mouse. One meek in nature and dodging about in search of a hiding hole.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
At the end of a hallway that seemed much shorter than it looked, Windley closed the door behind us and set his lantern onto the bedside table before moving aside the drapes with the back of his hand to get a look at the end of night. Beyond, incandescent beetles lit the yard in dull glow though there was no moon. Thankfully.
Flora’s floors were of wood. I stood at the door, digging my toe into a polished knot, fiddling with my hands and eyeing the bed. All was still, as though closing the door had cut off any vibrations existing in the air.
Alone, in the night, in the dark, shadows masked the room and its intentions.
I could tell you the scene set my chest aflutter, my skin ashiver, my stomach askew, and that would be true, but I would be varnishing if I didn’t also mention that it set my armpits clammy in a most unqueenly way.
Windley didn’t turn from the window. “Do you feel recovered, Merr? From our tiff?”
“I do.”
“Any lingering doubts as to my intentions?” he said.
“N-no.”
“And do you forgive my part in it?” His voice was soft.
“Of course. Do you forgive mine?”
“Always.” Windley released the curtain, letting it fall over the window, and turned to me with a half-smile. “And is this okay?” He was talking about his shirt, which he had just started to lift.
My swallow felt as though a large piece of dinner roll was stuck in my throat. “It’s fine.”
The diminutive flame from the lantern on the table flickered against his chest and showed the muscle of his arms. Lean. Trained. Firm. A slew of other appetizing adjectives.
“What?” he said. “I get hot under covers.”
He knew very well what. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be smirking like that.
Windley’s frosting was a fine frosting, indeed.
Though I did notice the way he kept his scarred back turned to the wall.
“I’ve never been alone in a room with a shirtless man, you know.” I tried to mask my nerves with weak flirtation. “Albie would die if he knew.”
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
“You look upon my exposed torso and your first thought is of Sir Albie? We may have problems, lion queen.”
No, my first thought was something far more indecent, but that lump of dinner roll wouldn’t allow me to voice it.
“May I ask what you’re doing way over there?” he said, amused. “Wasn’t the lion going to bite her prey? You can’t do so from across the room.”
He was toying with me. Because I was coming across as mousy as I felt. I was but a mouse donning the costume of a lion, and my fangs had been traded for a wiggling nose.
His dark eyes shined under the lantern’s influence. “Or is it that you’re afraid of my bite?”
“As if I would fear something like that!”
The quiver in my voice was telling enough.
His demeanor shifted. “I’m kidding, Merrin. My intentions tonight are to embrace you and sleep. Nothing more.”
“Oh. You don’t mean to—?”
He shook his head and drew the covers as if preparing bed for a child. “I will put my shirt back on if it helps. Though it would be a shame; I rather enjoy the way you’re looking at me.” He gave me the grin of a jester. “It’s rare my wits are sharper than yours.”
Just like that, the air’s vibration returned as the intentions of the room were revealed.
I was no mouse. I was a great and fearsome queen.
“Sharper? If only through trickery! You purposely led me to believe one thing was happening when it wasn’t!”
“What thing would that be?” he cooed.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
He laughed, for I had gone mousy again. “No, lion queen. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve something of a weakness when it comes to you. If we were to become physical, I worry I wouldn’t be able to keep from using my power on you. Trust me, you’re doing better than I would if it were your shirt strewn over the dresser.” He took the garment and moved to the edge of the bed. “More importantly, it’s clear you aren’t ready for it. I’ve waited a long time for you, and now that I have you, I intend to take my time with you. I would never take your virtue unless you were sure with mind and body that it was what you wanted. I would wait to the end of days for that.”
Oh my heart.
“Now—” he winked “—would an incubus say something like that?”
“A scheming one might,” I said, nearly breathless.
“If you’re worried, I could always sleep in the living room.” He tapped his chin. “Although I believe that’s where Flora’s sleeping…”
“Get in.” I pushed him in the chest because he was still keeping his back turned from me.
Playful, he took me down with him, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling his pink head into my neck. It was a very Windley thing to do, and we had done much worse over the past days, yet…
He must have felt me stiffen, for my ears were filled with the sound of heartbeat, and mouse whiskers were beginning to sprout from my cheeks.
“You’re so nervous,” he whispered against my forehead. Then he kissed it. “It’s just me. I’
m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
The problem wasn’t him, though; it was a piece of furniture with four corners—namely, the bed. Because in some way, the bed made it feel like we were back home. And who we were back home was far different from who we had become.
Thinking back to when he had come bursting into my room as Beau’s guard…
“Sleeping together in a bed after all these years is like being kept in a pen and suddenly released,” I said.
“You find the bed intimidating?” he interpreted.
“It’s like connecting two different worlds.”
And for all the dirty thoughts I’d had in the past weeks, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“Come here, my lion.” He shifted onto his back and drew his hand around my shoulder so that my head could rest in the nape of his arm. Then he took my hand and placed it to his heart. “I’m the same person in a bed or in a tent. Nothing to be intimidated about.”
“In truth, I feel a bit awkward. I know it’s silly after… back on the hill.”
Unwed queens don’t typically feel up the unclothed flesh of hot young guards. He knew it—knew I was far more inexperienced than any handmaid he may have ‘practiced’ with before. And so with his hand over mine, he moved my fingers across his chest.
“It’s okay, love. Intimacy isn’t the same as sexuality. I don’t expect anything of you now just because of what we did then. Get to know the feel of my skin. I want you to feel safe against me no matter where we are.”
He closed his eyes and left himself at the mercy of my fingers roaming over the lines of his body. Learning it. His bareness felt nice on my palm. The part where his shoulder met his arm was my favorite, built of protective muscle and sinew and stronger than it looked. I pushed my hand over his collarbone and to his neck before sliding it down to the muscle of his stomach.
“You feel good to touch, Windley,” I whispered.
He gave me a content smile cast in warm light from the lantern.
But it was a smile of short life.
“Not all of me,” he said, opening his eyes.
