Page 34 of Their Wicked Cage

Selkie mischief might look harmless—a stolen trinket, a teasing song, waste in the rivers—but I’ve seen it turn cruel. A sleeping witch could be lured into the sea before dawn, and she’s too important to my kingdom for me to allow anything to happen to her. The tent I procured for this trip is enchanted with several protection charms, so anyone sleeping inside it will be warded against intrusion.

Before I can stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth, I find myself blurting, “Nonsense. We’ll share.”

I regret the words as soon as I speak them aloud. A glutton for punishment. That’s what I am. Swimming with her? Watching the sunset with her? Both of those innocent moments were bad enough, but to sleep in such close quarters? Absolutely not. I should revoke my invitation. Immediately.

What was I thinking?

Gwyn bursts out laughing. “I wish you could see your face right now. You seem so appalled by the idea of sharing a tent with me, and it was your idea.”

“I’m not appalled.”

“Sure you’re not.” She saunters over to me and plucks her shirt from the ground, shaking it clean. “I don’t mind sharing a tent if you promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

Did she catch me staring at her plump ass or admiring the bargain mark—a twin to the one staining my chest—inked down her spine? Did my eyes linger too long on her breasts when that breeze made her nipples peak?

Worse… is she flirting with me?

The back of my neck heats up. I ignore it. Whatever mild attraction I feel toward her will fade in time. Desire toward otherworld females has happened several times since the pain began, but it’s nothing I can’t handle until the feeling inevitably fades.

Still, I should squash whatever she thinks she saw in my gaze while I have the chance.

“I believe you’re more than aware of my preferences, little witch,” I mutter as I reach for the tent and begin setting it up.

She watches me with an amused smile on her lips before turning her attention back to the stars.

The tent is fucking small.

I can’t stop my gaze from drifting toward it.

It’s too small for two bodies, no matter how tiny Gwyn is.

Sitting around the campfire I built, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck we’re both going to sleep in there without touching.

Gwyn, oblivious to my fraying nerves, pops a handful of berries into her mouth and points at the sky. “Do you have a name for that constellation?”

“I’m sure we do, but I don’t know it.”

The words come out sharper than I intended, and her brows knit.

“Do you dislike the stars?” she asks.

A prickling sensation needles my chest.

Stargazing was one of Godrick’s hobbies. I never cared for it, much to his displeasure. So when he found Quill half-drowned in one of our rivers, clutching charts of constellations, he finally had someone to share that passion with.

The betrayal I buried claws its way up, raw as the day Godrick sat me on his throne, set his crown on my head, and told me he was leaving. He’d fallen in love with someone who wasn’t my mother, and he’d found a worthier son.

It’s been centuries since that day.

It shouldn’t matter anymore.

I hate that it does.

“Riven?”

Her voice drags me back into the present.

I force my shoulders to relax, fixing her with a crooked grin. “How could I dislike something so pretty?”