Page 11 of The Horned King
"I may have considered it, but it wasn't something I-"
She smiles wider, interrupting me. "You can't bed her either."
"Why not?" The question leaves my mouth before I have a chance to stop it.
Her grating, horrid laughter surrounds me again. "Onala has seen many futures where you do, and most of them end disastrously."
Most is not all. Why am I even thinking about this? I am standing in a mass grave of my people, yet I'm contemplating what level of catastrophe I would accept just to have my newest houseguest beneath me.
Or above me, riding my cock, her big green and gold eyes staring down at me with her mouth in a perfect O.
Perhaps in front of me, bent over any surface in the castle while I grip her dark blonde waves in my fist, bending her backward and—
"Do what you like, Your Majesty. I am only the messenger," Ovoor interrupts my thoughts. She eases from her seat with far more grace than her form would lend anyone to believe her capable of. "But if she dies, all of our futures are at stake."
Godsdamn it.
"Understood. Give Onala and Olath my best."
With a smile and a wave of her hand, she vanishes into a puff of smoke, leaving nothing behind but her warnings.
Figure out who is controlling the Syrens and how.
Meet with every country to discuss peace while my own people are being attacked.
Don't kill the girl.
Don't fuck the girl.
That last objective should be easy enough. She spent the entire two minutes we spoke spewing hatred and vitriol at me, so any thoughts I might have had of bedding her are only just that. Thoughts.
I can indulge in thoughts of having her over and over again and not act on them. I'm perfectly capable of overlooking a pretty face to focus on the future of our world.
I imagine Ovoor's grating voice in my head, chiding me for lying again. This time to myself.
With a heavy breath and a final look at the massacre around me, I whistle for Drakken, taking to the sky to face the plethora of problems closer to home.
Including a meeting with the Syren Queen.
Fuck.
Four
Elva
This is not what I signed up for.
I would never have agreed to come here had I known that the man I was corresponding with was not even the man in charge of the outcome of this visit.
After our brief discussion, Shan assigned a handful of maids to show me to my room, excusing himself to attend to something that could be delayed no longer. I'm supposed to be ready for dinner in a few hours, with nothing to do between now and then.
One of my attendants, Raya, busies herself with preparing a bath for me, unceremoniously dumping herbs and some kind of salt in it, all the while her deep brown eyes stare vacantly into the tub. She wears gloves the color of the foam I saw crashing on the shore and a maid uniform of the same color. Her pants and long-sleeved shirt keep her wholly covered from the neck to where her slightly heeled boots meet her hemline.
No wonder the king thought my clothes were ridiculous. I'm dressed nearly the same as the maids in his castle.
She commands a maid with water powers to fill the tub, warming the water until it's just barely steaming, and the herbs and salts Raya tossed in there fill the room with a relaxing atmosphere that I desperately need.
"Do you require further assistance, Ambassador Aistin?" she asks when she's pleased with the temperature.