Page 41 of The Rat King
Nighval
Alltheridingwasgetting a little monotonous. Maybe I should have reconsidered and used my magic to whisk her back to my Lieden Palace that night I rescued her. We’d been talking on and off since traveling and she seemed to be making an effort to get to know me, which was completely unexpected. All of her questions never failed to take me aback.
As if my thoughts had summoned one, she leaned her head back against my chest, then I could sense her gaze on my face. “I’m trying to imagine you as a teenager. What were you like then?”
Another odd question. “Let’s see.” What was I like then? It seemed so long ago. “I suppose I was like any other immature and hormone driven young man.”
“No way. I’m not buying it. Tell me something good.” She playfully smacked my thigh.
I huffed a laugh. “I suppose I was a bit more driven than most boys my age at the time. My father would have told you I lived with my nose in my spellbooks.”
“And when you weren’t being studious?” she prodded.
“One solstice celebration my warlock friends Link and Eshan came to Ravsted to stay for the week. I think we were fifteen that year. They convinced me that we could glamour ourselves to look older, which we did, then we snuck out and made it to nearly every tavern in the city without getting caught. That, as you can imagine, because our tradition until we came of age. My father never knew.” A wave of melancholy I hadn’t felt in a long while washed over me, and I sighed at the memory.
Avery shifted in the saddle, drawing my attention. Instinctively, my hands went to her hips, and I squeezed. The gesture was proprietary, I knew, but she wasn’t stopping me. Actually, she let out a little moan as I kneaded the flesh there. “You sore?” I asked, wondering if she was allowing this to distract me.
“Yes, but that feels good,” she said, and I’d be damned if a surge of pride didn’t well up in my chest. At her command, I handed her the reins and went to work on her hips and her thighs. I kneaded in all the ways I imagined eased her tired muscles, taking care not to let the metal caps on my claws slip.
She leaned back against me a little more, and I couldn’t resist asking, “You like that?”
Like she knew exactly what she was doing, she said, “Yes, don’t stop.”
The words had their intended effect when a surge of warmth made its way to my cock. I had to will the thing not to swell, because there was a good chance she would feel it. I didn’t think we were there yet, as much as her playful words indicated otherwise.
I was still human enough to understand that after what she had been through, she needed time. She might think a little fun was what she needed, but I knew in the long run it would benefit both of us if I didn’t act too quickly. I needed to let her have time to work out the things that had happened to her over the last eight months. At some point, I needed to try to get her to open up to me. Now we were just trading around light conversation. Since those first couple of nights, she hadn’t fallen into a fit of tears and she seemed to be managing her new situation better than I would have expected.
She was certainly managing it better than any of the witches before her. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop,” I said, and I felt a shiver wrack through her. Damn, this was going to be a challenge.
I needed to do something to get my mind off the sensations touching her caused. “Why don’t you tell me about this theater degree you never finished?”
She flinched at my words, and I quickly followed up. “I didn’t mean that in a critical way. You said that you only had courses remaining. Does that mean you were in plays, in front of a live audience?”
“I was,” she said. “Why do I have a feeling you find that hard to believe?”
A laugh burst from my chest. I hadn’t done such a thing in I don’t know how long. Not since the last time she made me laugh. “Actually, I can believe it. I see how much you enjoy your makeup and dressing up. I can perfectly picture you up on stage being incredibly dramatic.”
Avery elbowed me in the side, and I grabbed her arm to prevent her from doing it again, keeping my other hand glued to her hip. “What? I’m only telling you the truth.”
“For your information, I was in a play calledMy Fair Lady. It’s a very famous play and the female lead is a comedic role,” she said, flipping her hair haughtily over her shoulder. “I performed so well our local theater critic said I was a uniquely hilarious Eliza Doolittle, and I blended into the role seamlessly.”
“Ah, so why did you not become an actor full time and stop this bartending you speak of?” I asked her.
She giggled, like there was some piece of information I was lacking. “Well, acting wasn’t enough to pay the bills, unless one made it big. You see, a lot of us, the bartenders working in the town where I lived, were waiting for our big break. But I was getting older, and the witches approached me. If I am being honest with you, the idea of taking on the role of a queen had a lot of appeal. And the way that I saw it, a queen would be on a stage in a way. She would have to work with the people, speak to audiences, act the part alongside the king. I figured I could do it and things weren’t really happening with my other career path.”
“I see,” I said, and something about her narrative bothered me, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly which part. Maybe it was that this world this magnificent woman had come to me from didn’t value her as much as I was coming to. “You made a divine queen.”
“Except that I didn’t. I was only married for a few months before I became the king killer.” Her tone became somber. I didn’t like that either.
“Avery, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I know that will not assuage the guilt you feel, but I wish you would stop beating yourself up about it,” I said, and heard her sniffle. I angled my head so I could see her face and notice a singular tear cut down her cheek. I removed my hand from her hip and reached up to brush it away with my thumb. Instead of continuing working on her tired muscles, I wrapped my arms around her waist, squeezing. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m convinced you could do no wrong.”
A little half-hearted giggle escaped, and she said, “That’s because you don’t know me well enough yet. I’m sure if given enough time, I could definitely figure out something naughty to do.”
She was deflecting. I recognized it because I myself was adept at doing the same thing. But I wasn’t going to let her. Even as tempting as it was to flirt back. “You need to talk about what happened. You can tell me, and I won’t judge you. I promise.”
“I told you what happened. There’s nothing more to tell. And the truth is, I would do what I did again. I don’t feel guilty, which is the weird part. Actually, I think I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. All I felt as the life drained from his eyes was relief. Does that make me a terrible person? I know so many people were counting on me to break the curse,” she said, and her shoulders shook, as if she were fighting back tears.
Don’t worry, you will still break the curse. That’s what I wanted to tell her, the knowledge that had been looming between us since she had the realization that we still could. But this wasn’t about that, it was about her and her misplaced guilt, so I said, “No, it doesn’t make you a terrible person. Well, if it does, then I’m wretched.”
