“Water for the queen,” I shout, and a server appears, filling a goblet, then drinking from it, proving it hasn’t been poisoned.
Lyko and Ayro nod approvingly, and I pass the glass to Leigh, who sips it gratefully. She’s white as the ice-capped mountains of Northern Roth.
“Are you entirely sure that you don’t want to execute him?” I ask. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
I steady her shaking hand, helping her hold the glass. I pull a soft cloth from my pocket, blotting up the few droplets that have spilled across her skin.
“Benefit of being a queen, I guess,” Leigh finally answers. “You can take out all your enemies and no one can stop you.”
“Benefit and burden,” I agree. “Is that a yes?”
“No, it was sarcasm.” She sighs. “He’s sworn allegiance, and if you think we can trust him, then I say we take what we came for and get the hell out of here.”
A platter of food appears before us.
“We will leave sooner than I planned,” I tell her. Worry gnaws at me. “Unless you need to leave now. Are you in much pain?” Perhaps I should have us make our exit now, before things truly escalate…
I grit my teeth, well aware the night will only get worse. There is a difference though, between causing the mayhem and being the victim of it.
“I’m not leaving now,” she says stubbornly. “I spent too much time getting ready to waste this outfit because one asshole acted like a jerk.”
“He tried to steal you from me. Physically.” I keep my voice low, continually scanning the room for fresh threats. “He hurt you.” I run my finger over her collarbone, and she winces at the barest touch. “I should kill him for you. And the one who gave you this scar.”
“Is that what all this is about?” she asks, settling more deeply into my lap. “More bloodshed? Didn’t your little pep talk about honor and glory and returning to Roth mean anything?”
“How did you get this?” I murmur, running my fingers down the scar on her back.
“Don’t deflect. Answer my question. Was it all bullshit, or did you mean it?”
I nod, distracted by the press of her body against mine, the weight of her gaze on my face, the delicious scent of her skin, bared as it is in her tantalizing dress.
“I meant it,” I finally answer, when her green eyes turn toward me, searching. “I meant what I said.”
My throat goes dry, and I take her glass, draining it, then signal for more.
Leigh sighs, still staring at me. “Why do I believe when you say that? I shouldn’t, and then—”
“My mother was hauled off by the Overlord’s lackeys. When I was a boy. You asked about her, earlier. Seeing you…” I grit my teeth, forcing the words out as I search her face, like all the answers to life’s great mysteries are written there. “Seeing him hurt you, seeing him threaten you, it… reminded me of what that felt like. To be powerless, to be weak, to watch the ones you love hurt, to fear for the ones who are left.”
My gaze skips to where my brothers sit, on edge but eating and talking.
“I don’t want the Roth legacy—my legacy—to be one of casual cruelty. To be the invaders who kill until they get their way. Violence has long been a part of our culture, a part of who the Roth are, but not like this. Our gods have abandoned us over it, of that, I am sure. The Overlord dishonors our species through his actions.”
She’s silent.
The Roth sect at the tables eat and drink, and though there is a certain festive atmosphere, it’s also tense. Everyone’s on edge, waiting for something to happen.
“I’ve said too much,” I finally tell her.
The servant scurries past, refilling our drink. Leigh shifts on my lap, and I bite back a groan. Her shaking’s mostly subsided, and I run my fingers along the exposed skin of her thigh.
“No,” she says.
I begin to remove my hand, and surprise skitters through me when her fingers circle my wrist.
“You’ve said just enough,” she meets my gaze, and I drink her in.
The dark war paint, aggressive and bold. The way the fabric cascades down her body, the crimson mass of braids a crown on her head.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.
I still, as though I’m on a great Roth hunt, waiting for the prey to step out into the clearing. Leigh tilts her head up, our mouths mere inches apart. Her breath dances across my skin, and I wet my lips.
Her gaze dips to my mouth, and for a moment…
For a moment I think she’s going to close the distance between us.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LEIGH
I could kiss him. Really kiss him and mean it. The huge Roth King holds me in his lap, gently, delicately, like I’m a piece of spun glass and he’s afraid to move.
I’ve never been fragile in my life… but I don’t mind when he treats me like this.
My eyes can’t seem to look away from him. From that strong, masculine jaw, the hair that tumbles across his shoulders, long and thick and enviable. When his tongue darts out across his lips, I’m overcome with the urge to kiss him.
He saved my life. I have no doubts about that.
Sure, I acted tough. Talked tough. But everyone in here knows the real power here is Nydo, holding me like I’m precious, and staring at me like he wants to eat me for dinner.
He’s dangerous.
He’s violent.
Quite possibly, he’s as emotionally unstable as I’ve become since my imprisonment.
Still, I want to kiss him. I like what he just said… and I think I’m starting to believe him. That he wants the Roth to change.
That by taking over, Earth will be safer. The universe will be safer.
I want the picture he’s painted of the future to be real. So much so that I’m willing to bend. A little.
I only hope I’m not as breakable as he seems to think I am.
“Your mother must have been very special. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” It’s inadequate, but he dips his chin and closes his eyes as though I’ve said something really meaningful.
Have I been this awful to him? That the merest blasé statement gets that kind of response?
“Nydo…” I say quietly, my fingers still around his thick wrist. “I haven’t been very kind to you. I haven’t been… kind in a long time.”
I scrunch my nose up, because I suck at apologies.
“I don’t need you to be kind,” he says quietly.
He stares at me with his huge, dark eyes, mere embers of orange flickering in their depths. It’s like the entire rowdy hall disappears, and there’s only me and him, sitting together, having this conversation.
“I need you to be the queen you are,” he continues. His fingers tighten on my thigh, causing my breath to catch. “I need you to be strong enough to bear what is yet to come. I need you to want me as much as I want you. Give me all your fire, Leigh, because I will take it, I will take it, and gods help me, I will beg for more.”
My eyes are wide, waiting for him to close with a snide comment or petty remark about what I can call him in the bedroom. But he says nothing else, just watches me carefully, calmly, like his words haven’t just turned all my assumptions on their head.
Roghat chooses this moment to stand up, the wound on his throat already knitting back together, though blood still stains his shirt.
“A chroida to our king and queen!” he shouts, raising his glass.