The King's Obsession

by Tanya Bird

  She squashed down the hope, far too practical for dreams.

  ‘I think you’re wrong, by the way,’ Hali said. ‘I think you are exactly Leksi’s type.’

  Petra’s gaze returned to the mirror. She would know soon enough.

  Chapter 10

  The wine went straight to Leksi’s head, or perhaps it was the speed at which he drank it. When Petra had stepped out of that room, he knew he was in trouble by the way his body reacted at the sight of her. All that soft flesh on display, those gentle curves, those lips painted in just the right shade of red to make his mouth turn dry. He had always thought her beautiful, but this was something else.

  He immediately sent Charis to one of the bedrooms for the remainder of the evening, unable to watch the boy stare, open-mouthed. He remembered what it was to be fifteen, and he did not want to see his own private thoughts play out on the face of his squire.

  ‘What do you think, gentlemen? Isn’t she lovely?’ Hali had asked, clearly proud of her efforts.

  Lord Yuri had agreed wholeheartedly, eyes on her face like the true gentleman he was. Then everyone had waited for Leksi’s reply, and he had stood there like a gaping fool, with no idea where to look. Breasts, hips, legs, breasts again. Dear God. He had finally settled on her shoes, though one creamy ankle was visible through the small split of the dress. It was still too much for him.

  ‘Very nice,’ he had managed. He considered himself quite the wordsmith when it came to women, and never in his life had he uttered the words ‘Very nice.’ Clearing his throat, he had encouraged everyone to take a seat. He needed to cover her with a table before he embarrassed himself.

  Now he sat across from Hali, and every now and then he caught her gaze. She had a mischievous glint in her eye.

  She knew.

  He tried to focus on the food, as it was one of the best meals he had eaten in weeks. Petra had tried to cook a few times, and the three of them had sat around the table making appreciative noises while chewing the mutton for twice the amount of time than usually required. Leksi offered to cook most days to spare them the performance and Petra the embarrassment. He could manage the basics: bread, soup, and stew, but nothing like the mouth-watering fare spreading the length of the table in front of them: fish, eggs, an assortment of vegetables, and fresh bread.

  ‘We might have to keep hold of your cook,’ Leksi said, reaching for another helping of fish. He was seated next to Petra, plenty of distance between their chairs.

  ‘I am afraid I have not been much help in that regard,’ Petra said. ‘It has been years since I have needed to cook anything.’

  ‘I wish I could tell you she is being modest,’ Leksi said. Everyone laughed, and when he glanced at Petra, he found her half smiling into her food. Just once he would like to see a full smile.

  ‘Leksi tells me you are not very confident with animals,’ Yuri said.

  Petra looked up. ‘Did he now? A rather kind way of saying that I embarrass myself every time I am confronted with one.’

  ‘Not entirely true,’ Leksi said, swallowing his mouthful of food. ‘She met my father’s dog and they ended up spending the night together.’

  ‘How very scandalous,’ Hali said, winking at her.

  ‘I thought we agreed to never speak of it,’ Petra said, turning to Leksi.

  He looked into her smiling eyes. Normally he would have replied with something funny that would bring the whole table to laughter, but the moment passed, and he reached for his wine. His eyes met with Hali’s once more. He really wished she would stop assessing him.

  ‘One of our dogs had a litter of pups recently,’ Yuri said, placing his knife and fork on the plate and pushing it away. ‘I mean to sell them, but Hali has become somewhat attached.’

  Hali took a large sip of wine before speaking. ‘They’re just babies! We’ll sell them when they’re older.’

  ‘They were weaned from their mother weeks ago.’

  Leksi watched as Petra filled her cup and took a long drink. She seemed suddenly uncomfortable.

  ‘So that’s it?’ Hali said. ‘I’m supposed to look into those adorable brown eyes and say, “You’ve had your few weeks with your mother. Time to be given away to a stranger”?’

  Petra froze next to him. Leksi stood, causing everyone to look at him, except Petra whose gaze was fixed on her plate.

  ‘It’s stifling in here with the food, the hearth, and the wine. I’m going to get some air.’ He turned to Petra and offered his hand. ‘Would you care to join me?’

  Without looking up, she slipped her hand into his and stood. ‘Excuse me.’

  Lord Yuri also stood, only returning to his seat once they had exited the house.

  It was one of those clear evenings when the air burned your lungs, but the blazing stars above made the cold worth it. Leksi released Petra’s hand and watched as she stepped away. She was slightly turned away from him, hands on her stomach.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ve known Hali for some time. She probably doesn’t even realise—’

  ‘It is all right,’ Petra said, turning to him, eyes shiny. ‘She has been nothing but kind. This evening has been wonderful.’

  Leksi’s weight was on one foot, his arms at his sides. They stared at one another, neither really knowing what to say next.

  ‘Perhaps the wine was not such a good idea,’ she said, attempting a smile.

  ‘I can send them home if you would prefer,’ he said. ‘They’ll understand.’

  She shook her head. ‘Do not do that. You deserve some pleasant company for just one evening. You should go back inside. I will be along in a moment.’

  He watched her, bathed in light from the window, and swallowed. ‘I like your company. That’s what I was trying to say before they arrived.’

  She tilted her head in a manner that suggested she did not believe him. ‘There is really no need for you to be careful of my feelings. I might be afraid of horses, but away from animals I am rather resilient.’

  His eyes travelled over her. Every hair was in place, with just the right amount of skin on display to make his pulse quicken every time he looked at her properly. In that moment, she was the perfect Companion, the most upstanding mentor, and yet he had seen another side of her. He had lifted her off the forest floor, her lips blue. He had seen her cry and kill a man made of straw.

  ‘You look absolutely beautiful, by the way.’ The words came out with ease that time. He was not trying to be charming; it was just an honest observation.

  Her eyes widened a little, but that was her only reaction. She was too well trained to be embarrassed. ‘That is a very kind thing to say.’

  He gave a small shrug. ‘I’m not trying to be kind. It’s the truth.’ The wine helped him—a lot. Though having her within reach was probably not a good idea. He reminded himself that the last thing she needed was some man leering at her, grabbing her, kissing the paint from her lips. And then there was the promise he had made to Tyron. She was off limits. But she continued to hold his gaze, as though waiting to see what he would do next.

  ‘Can you smell that?’ he asked, glancing at the house.

  She sniffed the air. ‘Honey and ginger.’

  ‘Stewed pears,’ they said in unison.

  He offered her his arm. ‘Would you care to join me for dessert before it all disappears?’

  She slipped her bare arm through his. There were still two layers of clothing between them, and yet he could feel the warmth of her through the fabric. He kept his eyes ahead and his thoughts on the food.

  By the time the wagon pulled away from the small house, Petra had drunk more wine in a few hours than she had in her nine years at Masville. She stood outside in the dark, warmed by drink, conversation and laughter. Others’ laughter, but it was enough. She had enjoyed watching everyone around her, telling their stories, completely unafraid of being judged. No shame, no propriety, just raw human spirit so contagious that Petr
a felt the walls shift inside of her—just a little.

  ‘You must be freezing,’ Leksi said, looking down at her bare arms.

  She drew a long, cleansing breath. ‘I am certain it is cold, but I honestly cannot feel it.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. I saw how much you drank. I’m impressed at how well you hold your liquor.’

  She peered up at him in the dark. He was a full head taller than her. ‘Were you counting my drinks?’

  ‘It’s my job to watch out for you.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Her head was cocked to one side. Dear God, she was flirting. Fuelled by the wine, she took a step towards him. ‘And is it your job to sneak glances at the neckline of my dress?’

  ‘Ah, you noticed that?’

  Her lips curled into a smile. ‘It is my job to notice the reactions of men, Sir Leksi. The more you drank, the less discreet you were.’

  He continued to watch her. ‘You know you can just call me Leksi, right?’

  Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she was worried he would see it through the sheer fabric. For years she had taught women the art of seduction, introducing them to the workings of a man’s mind. It was an act, a performance, a lie.

  This was different. This was not a sequence of planned gestures. There was an energy moving through her, and for the first time since they had met, she was forced to admit to herself that she was drawn to him. She had been convinced that part of her was missing or broken, but there it was, attraction in its most primal form.

  And it felt good.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked when she took another step towards him.

  ‘I am not entirely sure.’ She held his gaze. ‘Should I stop?’

  Conflict played out in his face. ‘Not yet.’

  She took one more step, their bodies almost touching. ‘It seems you find me attractive in this dress.’

  His eyes travelled down her body and back up again. ‘Honestly? I find you attractive in any dress.’

  She swallowed, waiting for her sensible side to shut down whatever was happening. ‘Did you think about kissing me earlier?’ She could not believe she had just asked that.

  He was so still. ‘I’ve thought about it before this evening, but before you get cross, I never planned on acting on those thoughts.’

  She lifted her face a little, and she could have sworn he was about to lean in but stopped himself. ‘Because I am not your type?’

  He frowned and pulled away slightly. ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘I take no offence.’

  That time he did lean in. ‘Trust me, in that dress and with those lips, you are every man’s type.’ He reached up and ran one finger down her bare arm. Tiny bumps prickled her skin. ‘If there’s something you want, all you have to do is ask.’

  She felt slightly dizzy and slightly something else. More than anything, she felt confused by her actions. What did she want? He was going to make her say it.

  ‘I think I want you to kiss me.’

  ‘You think?’

  Her mind was fuzzy. ‘I suppose I will not know for sure until it happens.’

  He moved so slowly that she had time to examine every part of his handsome face. ‘I need you to be sure before it happens.’ He waited.

  ‘I am sure.’ Yes, she was ready. Why else would she remain in front of him, face turned up and mouth slightly parted?

  She closed her eyes as he leaned in, brushing his lips over hers so gently she felt a bit cheated. Her eyes opened as a pleasant sensation lingered. His breath smelled of pears and sugar. He was watching her, taking in her reaction, assessing her. Whenever the king was that close, she would turn her head, but she did not want to turn away from Leksi.

  ‘More, please,’ she whispered.

  Apparently that was his undoing, because he gripped her arms and his lips came down on hers, firmer that time. Something must have shifted in her mind, because suddenly she could not feel him anymore. She could not feel anything. Her body stopped responding to his. It just stopped period.

  He pulled back and stared down at her, his expression confused—worried, maybe.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ she lied.

  He let go of her arms but did not move away. ‘I felt it.’

  Tears threatened to spill over. ‘Felt what?’ It was definitely worry she recognised on his face now.

  ‘The moment I lost you.’

  She understood then what had happened. Her body had done what she had trained it to do—it had shut him out.

  She took a step back from him. ‘Sorry.’ The wine no longer warmed her, but rather made her feel sick.

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you in your current state.’

  My current state? Oh. He thought her drunk, or worse, damaged. Maybe she was.

  She shook her head, embarrassed. ‘You did not take advantage. I asked you to—’

  ‘And I moved too fast.’

  No, the speed had been perfect. ‘I should go to bed.’ She forced herself to look at him. ‘I… I am very sorry about… all that.’

  ‘Don’t apologise.’ He went to move towards her and then stopped. ‘Go get some sleep. In the morning, we can pretend this never happened.’

  She all but flinched at his words. Of course he wanted to forget it. What a mess she was. ‘Goodnight, Sir Leksi,’ she said, turning away and trying very hard to keep a slow, composed pace.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he called to her back.

  Chapter 11

  The following morning, Leksi stepped out into the early grey light while the rest of the house slept as a messenger pulled up in front of him, his horse heaving and lathered with sweat. Taking the proffered letter, Leksi stepped away before tearing it open. He recognised the handwriting of his father’s neighbour, and a feeling of dread enveloped him. He had received similar letters his entire life, every time his father made trouble in one of his drunken stupors, like when he had slaughtered one of their neighbour’s sheep, believing it was a boar.

  Now what?

  ‘I regret to inform you of your father’s passing…’

  He stilled, his chest turning to lead. So many feelings, all crashing inside him at once. The house had burned down, his father inside it, likely asleep or too drunk to get out. By the time his neighbour had dragged him from the house, he was already dead.

  Leksi’s throat ached and his eyes blurred, all while the messenger waited for a reply behind him. He worried he might not be able to give one. Looking to the house, he saw Petra standing in the doorway, a blanket pulled around her, watching him. They stared at one another for the longest moment; then, as though sensing he needed her, she walked over and gently pried the letter from his hand. He hoped she did not notice the slight tremble.

  After scanning its contents, her hand went to his arm, and his throat threatened to close.

  ‘You should go to him,’ she whispered.

  He gave a small cough, just to test his voice. ‘Why? So I can bury him in that shithole?’ He stared at the house because he did not want her to see what was in his eyes.

  Her hand fell away and she walked over to the messenger, giving him instructions and sending him on his way. Returning, she said, ‘We will bury him here.’

  He looked at her then, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  She gave him the smallest of smiles. ‘The ocean can wash away anything, remember?’

  To stop from embarrassing himself, he walked down to the water and stripped off his trousers, wading into the sea before diving beneath its surface.

  He did not know how long he stayed in the water. Hours maybe. Petra watched him from the top of the slope, giving him the space he needed while letting him know she was there. In his experience, women were not good at reading signals, but her skills were exceptional—though what else did he expect from a highly trained mentor.

  When he finally exited the water, he stepped into his trousers
and shoved his feet into his boots, then walked straight past her to the garden at the back of the house. Snatching up the shovel, he marched all the way to the back of the property and got to work digging a grave.

  By mid-morning, the pile of dirt beside the hole was nearly as tall as him, but he could not stop digging. Sweat poured off his brow and ran down his back and chest, but he paused only when a surge of emotion threatened to tip him over. What that emotion was, he did not know.

  The sun was high in the sky when he became aware of the blisters forming around his calluses. He stopped, examining the hole he stood in. It did not seem big enough or deep enough to bury all that needed to be buried.

  Charis wandered out to see if he needed help, but one glance from Leksi made him turn and walk in the other direction.

  ‘It is big enough,’ Petra reassured him, coming to stand by the grave.

  He said nothing in reply, just stepped past her again and disappeared inside. He did not speak one word to anyone for the rest of the day.

  The next morning, his father’s body arrived in the back of a cart. Leksi pulled the blanket back and stared down at the corpse. The red face he had come to recognise over the years was now an unsettling shade of grey. He had seen more dead bodies than he cared to think about, but there was something different about gazing down at his dead father. Misplaced grief twisted inside of him: not grief for the man he had lost, but for the father he was robbed of. How different things might have been if his mother had lived, if his sister had lived.

  He wanted desperately to be the man everyone expected him to be in that moment, strong and unshakable, but he was neither of those things. He was supposed to carry the body, but his feet refused to move.

  Once again, Petra acted when he could not. She covered the corpse with the blanket once more and instructed Charis and the driver to carry it inside. There, she washed the body, changed his clothes, and wrapped him in a white linen shroud which she sewed closed. Leksi waited outside, unable to enter the house. Instead, he watched the waves crash against the shore.