Rumpel's Prize (Kingdom, #8)

“Forgot.”


Snorting, she rolled her eyes. “I’m just sure you did.”

Laughing, he straddled the bike and it purred immediately to life, its headlight glowing a deep, crimson red.

Walking up to it, she patted the seat. “Genesis, may I please sit?” She remembered to ask this time.

“Once she’s given her okay, you need never ask again.” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Oh.” Hopping on, she planted her hands on his shoulder. “How do I strap this helmet on?”

“Here, let me.”

Twisting, he helped her slip it on and then patiently directed her on how to thread the strap through to snap it in place. Holding out her arms, feeling a little claustrophobic inside the heavy shield on her head, she asked, “How do I look?”

She expected to hear all sorts of nonsense. I could eat you. Or ravishing. Or like a lollipop I wish to suckle… Really, it was Rumpel and he had a tendency to say the most dirty and raw things.

“Beautiful.” He smiled. “Now hang on to me tight.”

The moment she looped her arms around him, they were flying. Literally flying. The bike took off into the clouds, reaching speeds that made her dizzy. They sailed among the birds and she laughed as the clouds passed them by. She understood why he’d made her dress as she had. Not even a hair on her head was loose or able to hurt him as they flew at speeds beyond sound.

Content being right where she was, Shayera watched as the land rolled by, the twisted, knotted forest of Wonderland. The Seren Seas, the hills of Under, on and on Kingdom scrolled past like a dream. The old witch’s forest. The fairy gardens. The French hamlets.

Eventually she felt their speed decrease, but only once they’d dropped through the clouds did she realize they were descending. Rumpel finally parked them beside an enormous white coliseum.

It was a ruin, an exact approximation of Zeus’s temple, built by an old stone gnome. Smiling, she jumped off the bike and quickly undid her chinstrap, breathing deeply when the suffocating helmet finally came off.

“I’ve always wanted to see the ruins.” Running up to the temple, she traced the pomegranate carvings.

Rumpel hung back, watching her as she hopped and skipped through the stones, gazing up and down in awe at the fine craftsmanship.

“Maybe someday I could show you the real one,” he said, and her heart caught in her throat when she realized he’d materialized right beside her.

“I didn’t even see you move.”

“We princes can be very surprising.”

“Yes. You can.” She smiled. “So you travel to Earth then?”

“I make deals across all galaxies.”

She couldn’t imagine the sights he must have seen. Kingdom was so vast, but to think he’d gone beyond it—what more was out there?

“So what is all this for, Rumpel?”

“An olive branch, Carrot.” His hand lifted and he held it motionless by her face, as if he wanted to stroke her again, but this time he didn’t do it. Taking a seat on a toppled pillar, he patted the stone beside him. When she sat, he turned to her. He was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hair still in that messy bun.

She had to employ every bit of willpower she had left not to loosen it. She loved to see it long and free on him.

“I wanted to talk with you, away from the prying eyes of the castle.”

“Prying? I rarely see a soul. Except for Dalia, and on occasion Giles.”

“And Kai. Do not forget the boy.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I played with him,” she said softly, afraid the boy might now be in trouble.

He sighed. “I’m not heartless. I know the reputation I have, and I’ve earned it. But I’m not soulless, Shayera. I do feel. A lot. And when I feel the hardest, the meaner I become. For that I’m sorry. Dalia told me of your affinity for children, so I sent the boy to you.”

Melting like wax on the inside, Shayera began to question everything she’d ever thought of Rumpel and his demone ways.

He inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, and with the halo of sun hitting his golden head, he appeared like an angel, beautiful and yet so sad. So burdened. She could feel it as if the emotion was her own and she was drowning in it.

“Thank you,” she breathed, wishing she could touch him. Could show him with actions and not just words what his admission meant to her. “Why do you send me away? After we’re intimate. Why?”

It was the one question that bothered her more than all the others.

His eyes cracked open and his gaze was intense as he said, “Because the things I feel when I’m with you terrify me.”

She moved into him just a little, just enough that their knees barely grazed. She wished there were no clothes between them.

“How do I make you feel?”

“You make me laugh.” He smiled. “You make me want. And you make me desperately confused.”

“Why should it be so difficult?”