Page 65 of The Midnight King
“It’s exquisite,” I whisper.
“Keep it.”
“Thank you.” I examine the picture again, marveling at how she conveyed so much with a simple black-and-white sketch. “You’re so talented.”
She lets the compliment pass with the quiet confidence of someone who knows her own skill. “I suspected Killian had met someone special. He wouldn’t say much about you, even when I asked, but I could tell something was different. He’s been hurt before, you know. He wants a love for a lifetime, and many Faeries don’t like that sort of commitment. So I was cautious about the idea of him giving his heart again. But when I saw you there on the floor with him, I knew you loved him back.”
I whisper the words, still half-afraid to confess it. “I do.”
“He has his faults, like his father. I won’t make excuses for his mistakes. That’s between the two of you. But I want to thank you for bringing him here before it was too late. Losing him would break Finias, and as for me…” She draws a long breath. “I couldn’t bear it.”
I’m about to answer when the door bursts open and a slim female Faerie with bright green hair and pink dragonfly wings bursts into the room. Her eyes are bright green to match her hair, and her cheeks are dotted with pink freckles.
“Finias said you cut off Killian’sleg!” she says to Clara. “I told him he’s insane, which we all knew, of course, but even more so than usual—it’s not true, is it? Killian looks fine to me—and who isthat? Look at you, you’re rather pretty, aren’t you? All cozied up to my brother—why am I always the last to know the important news, like Killian finding a partner? I’m his sister, for the god-stars’ sake. He should tell mefirst.Fates have mercy, what the fuck is he wearing? Burnt pajamas?”
I exchange glances with Clara, who merely leans back in her chair, humor dancing in her eyes.
Killian’s lashes blink open, but when he sees his sister, he groans and shuts them again, pulling me tighter against him.
His sister grabs a small pillow from a nearby armchair and smacks his face with it. “Explain what’s going on, right now, or I swear—”
“Fuck, Úna,” he grumbles, sitting up. “I almost died, this is Celinda, and we have to go.”
“That’s notnearlyenough information,” Úna says.
“It will have to do for now, or you can pester our parents until they fill in the details.” He moves to the edge of the bed, inspecting his new leg. He rises, testing it, and then, seeming satisfied, he tilts back his head and lets magic flow over his body, transforming the royal nightwear into a sleek purple suit. “Much better. I would change your clothing as well, darling, but I have a scheme in mind and it requires you remaining just as you are.”
I glance down at my nightdress ruefully. There’s nowhere for me to safely stow Clara’s sketch, so I place it next to the tray she brought. “Keep this safe for me?”
She nods, picking up one of the steaming mugs and taking a sip.
Killian forms a shimmering portal in the air and grabs my hand. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Killian,” says Úna warningly. “If you almost die again, I will murder you myself.”
Her tone is sharp yet brittle, and I spot tears in her bright green eyes.
“Never fear, sister mine,” says Killian. “We’re going to wake a sleeping prince, annul my darling’s marriage, announce the death of a King, and spread rumors about a certain wicked stepmother. Nothing remotely dangerous.”
“Come and have some hot chocolate, Úna,” Clara suggests.
“Fine.” Úna stalks over to the tray and grabs a mug. “But when you come back, we’re having a long talk about the unnecessary risks you take in the mortal realm.”
“Can’t wait,” Killian says dryly, and walks through the portal with me.
After the colorful bedroom and Úna’s tempestuous presence, the royal bedchamber seems pale, somber, and eerily quiet. According to the clock on a nearby shelf, we’re still in the pre-dawn hours.
Killian goes into the study, then returns to say, “Your husband is still on the sofa, sleeping comfortably. He won’t wake for a few hours.”
I don’t answer him. I’m gazing at the rumpled sheets of the bed. There are singed spots where Killian suffered the torment of the anklet. We’re lucky the whole thing did not go up in flames.
“This was a very strange wedding night,” I murmur.
“Indeed.” Killian moves in beside me, his palm settling at my lower back. “It should have been a night of endless pleasure.”
His hand drifts up and down, sliding the silken fabric of the nightdress against my skin. The touch is a delicate seduction, an unspoken offer that my body wants to accept. My skin grows warm all over, and arousal twirls through my lower belly.
I’m married to the Prince. But it isn’t a real marriage—I was forced to say yes, forced to go through the motions of the wedding. I never chose Brantley. Instead I chose the King, as a way of escaping and claiming power… and then I fell for Killian. Despite his deception, it means something to me that I was drawn to him in both forms. As if we were always meant to be together. In truth, he and I have been connected for longer than I could have imagined, ever since he met my father all those years ago.