A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

“Yes, Your Highness.” I lay her down and unravel the blanket that swaddles her little body until she’s in only her diaper. Unfastening the pins, I peel cloth away, leaving her naked to the cool night air. “Nothing hidden there. Though I wouldn’t even know what to look for.”

“A tiny glass vial of liquid.” He watches her as she kicks her legs, her face growing red with her wails. “I can’t remember the last time we had an infant living within the castle. Decades, at least.”

“They bring great joy and even greater worry.” Especially in this evolving world.

He sighs. “You can put her out of her misery now.”

I bundle her up, giving her my fingertip to calm her, while my other hand covertly tugs the sides of my gown together, so I’m less exposed. Is there any point, though?

“Everyone must be searched,” the king confirms, answering my unspoken question.

“Yes, of course.” But I remain frozen where I stand as dread takes over. This feels so much more intimate than having the guards jostle me and then move on.

“Gracen.”

My eyes flash to his. He remembered my name?

He towers over me, examining my face. “Would you rather I call the guards back in?”

I shake my head.

His head is cocked as he studies me. “How would you prefer this done, then?”

Not at all would be nice. “Could Corrin—”

“No.” The answer is so abrupt, it startles me. He sighs, his tone softening. “Corrin was Princess Romeria’s lady maid and loyal to my brother. The only reason she’s still alive and in her position is that she was equally loyal to my parents, and she runs the castle’s household better than anyone else. But I am not a complete fool. I only trust her so far.”

“That is fair.”

Blue eyes bore into mine, narrowing. “You still falter. Why?” There’s a hint of suspicion growing. It’s never a good thing to have a king suspicious of you when someone just tried to kill him.

My face flushes. “Mortals are far more modest than Islorians, Your Highness.” And I’m struggling to decide which would be less mortifying: having this Islorian male’s gaze on me, or his hands. My body hasn’t healed from childbirth yet.

And he is a king.

He nods slowly as if digesting my apprehension and searching for a solution around it. And then a twinkle sparks in his eyes. “Would it help if I …” He reaches for a button on his tunic, unfastening it, then another. Half were already undone when he arrived, and now they’re all undone, and he’s reaching for the hem to pull his shirt off.

“No!” My hands fly to his, clamping over them, stopping them from their work. The brief contact spikes my heart rate, but then I pull back as if burned, realizing I’ve touched him without his permission. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t seem offended, though, his lips curved with amusement. “I was just trying to even the playing field.”

“That is kind, but there is no need for it.” And there’s no avoiding this. At least it’s dark. With a slow exhale, my stomach churning, I reach upward, to the collar of my nightgown.

“Stop.”

My hand freezes.

He sighs heavily and steps closer, until he’s looming over me, the heat from his body radiating against my skin. His eyes remain locked on my face as his hands fumble with the soft fabric folds of my nightgown, grazing my thighs in the process. “Are these the only pockets in this nightgown?”

“Yes, Your Highness, and you will always find them empty of anything harmful to you.” I swallow against my nerves and look up, praying he sees only sincerity. “I would never harm someone who showed my family such mercy as you have.”

His eyes settle on my mouth. He has such long lashes. “I would hope not, because there are far worse Islorians out there than I who wish to sit on this throne.”

“Yes, you are about to marry one.” The seamstress Dagny claims a daaknar would be friendlier than the Lady Saoirse.

The king’s eyebrows climb halfway up his forehead with genuine shock.

“I mean … I …” I can’t even come up with a suitable excuse for my idiocy. I am usually much smarter than this. Why did my lips loosen for him?

I tense as the king’s hand settles on my throat, his cool fingers curling around it. He could snap my neck with no effort, squeeze until the airflow cuts off. Suddenly, this dank little room blazes, as my pulse hammers in my veins, and I wait for him to dole out my punishment for insulting his future queen.

But he doesn’t squeeze or otherwise threaten me injury. His thumb smooths a circle against my skin while his gaze roams over my face, before slipping down to my exposed neckline. Heat flares in his eyes. If the guard died while testing Sabrina, then the king hasn’t tended to his needs yet tonight.

He leans forward.

And I brace myself for the prick of those fangs, the pull against my flesh, as if my very vein is being tugged through my skin.

“If anyone asks, you undressed for me, and I searched you thoroughly,” he whispers, his lips grazing my earlobe, sending an unexpected wave of pleasure through me to combat the fear. “We don’t want Boaz circling back for his own inspection.”

I swallow. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He lingers another long moment before pulling away abruptly and stalking toward the door. Throwing it open, he marches out without a look back.

I can’t say how long I stand there, but eventually Suri’s cries can’t be ignored.

By the time Corrin returns with my other children, I’ve fed and tucked her in and righted our room. The chaos within the servants’ quarters has faded, the guards searching for the perpetrator elsewhere. It doesn’t sound like they’ve found one here. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“So?” Corrin asks. “Did the king give you much issue?”

“None at all.” He is far different from what I expected. Playful at times, almost boyish. “You were right. He can be rather charming.” And seductive, whether that was his intention or not. Surely not. What purpose would a king have for seducing a mortal baker with three children in tow?

My cheeks flush under Corrin’s weighty stare.





CHAPTER TEN




ZANDER


“They’re not coming.” Abarrane paces along the inside of the gate like a caged beast. “We should never have let that Ybarisan ride off. If you had allowed me, I could have—”

“He said it was, what, a six-hour ride? That’s half a day, there and back. Plus time to convince this Radomir guy, who can only travel at night, to release Drakon and Iago. Have some faith, Abarrane.” Romeria says this, and yet she paces too.

“Faith in whom, exactly?” she sneers. “The Ybarisans or the saplings? Do you know what you ask? Both sides are murderers and thieves. One has been plotting to kill us and take our land, and the other plot to take our blood and then kill us.”

“I get that. But torturing Kienen for information would have gotten us nowhere. It would have been stupid—”

Jarek inserts his enormous body between the two bickering females before I can react. The rest of the legionaries remain where they are, not foolish enough to get in the middle. “I cannot stand relying on them either, but this plan offers at least a chance for some form of arrangement,” he says.