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

I glare at Kazimir. “Sometimes you go too far.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m only pointing out that these are different times, and you will have to bend more than one rule.”

I sigh. He’s not wrong. “She has three children. What am I to do with them?”

“Give her the queen’s quarters. There is plenty of room for all of them there.”

My head tips back as I bellow with laughter, imagining Saoirse’s rage. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“That is why you begged me to stay.” Kazimir watches a group of four down below, the females giggling as they head toward the cedar labyrinth. The cool evening air won’t stop whatever depraved acts they plan on participating in within the thicket. I would know—I’ve joined in plenty myself over the years. Gracen claimed my kind is far less modest than mortals, and she isn’t wrong.

“I do not know what it is about her.” I often wander the castle library when I want to clear my head. It’s peaceful in there. Running into Gracen was a welcome surprise, and while I may have been digging for information to find a deeper connection to Romeria, all I found was a comfortable, albeit nervous, companion.

I was equally startled to see her in the dining hall, her arms laden with a tray of my favorite sweet—something I’d admitted to earlier today—her face a mixture of trepidation and excitement. I noticed her before she realized it, but with Saoirse prattling in my ear, I had to keep up appearances and pretend not to.

And then her previous keeper pounced on her, and it took all of me to not intervene. The king siding with a mortal—the same one, again—would draw attention to her, and little of it would be good. I sent Kazimir in my stead, while feigning that I wasn’t glued to every second of the exchange.

“Right. You have no idea … You mean, besides that face and breasts that strain against her dress?”

“She’s nursing, you idiot.” None of my tributaries have ever had children, let alone newborns. For all my experience, I haven’t the first clue how that process even works.

And here I am, already thinking about her as if she’s my tributary.

“Nursing or not, I am more than willing to risk my life as your tester on that one. And if you don’t want her—”

“Don’t even think about it. Stick with your women down on Port Street,” I warn him.

He grins, as if he’s just proven a point.

“Why are you pushing me toward her now? You were suspicious of her motives earlier. According to you, she could be plotting my downfall as we speak.”

Kazimir chuckles. “You and I both know that mortal is no more plotting you harm than your horse is, but please continue to shovel shit at me as you stall. I love it.”

“How did you leave things with her?”

“I told her to go back to her room and shut her mouth if she valued her family’s lives.”

“You have such a way with words,” I drawl. “Seriously, what instructions did you give?”

“I said I would seek her out when it is time. Is it that time? Would you like me to fetch her so you can question her more thoroughly? Or shall we continue this ‘should I or shouldn’t I’ dance?”

“The hour is late.”

“That mortal was consumed by worry. She will be waiting for my call. And if what she says is true, no hour is too late.”

I’m interested to learn what Gracen witnessed, but I’m more interested simply to see her again. “I think it would be wise to hear what she has to say.”

“Yes, a very wise choice indeed.” He pulls himself up and strolls toward the door, as if happy to be given the task.

“And Kaz?”

He spins, still walking, his eyebrow arched in question.

“Don’t be a prick.”

He bows with a flourish. “I will try my best, Your Highn-ass.”



A two-knuckle rap sounds on my door.

“Enter.” From my perch on the settee in my seating area, I watch the door open with a creak and Kazimir stroll in. Behind him, Gracen trails.

She looks like she’s been dragged from bed, her white nightgown veiled by a gray wool cloak she hastily threw over. Her hair is loose, the wild curls flowing around her delicate face.

My pulse speeds up at the sight of her, surprising me. When was the last time I reacted this way to a female rather than to what I was getting from her?

Oh, yes … of course. Princess Romeria, as I escorted her south to Cirilea, and she charmed me for her nefarious purposes. Look how that turned out, I remind myself bitterly.

“As you requested, Your Highness. I will be outside if you need me.” With a dramatic gesture toward Gracen—for my benefit, something he knows I’ll ridicule later—Kazimir strolls back out, pulling the door shut behind him. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s wearing an obnoxious smirk.

Gracen lingers where she stands, her hands wringing, her curious eyes searching all the fineries of my chamber. Even in the shadows of candlelight, the intricate moldings and vaulted ceilings are something to behold, especially compared to the damp staff quarters she calls home.

Suddenly, Kazimir’s joke to put her and her family in the queen’s chamber doesn’t seem so out of the question. I feel the urge to rescue her from that squalor.

But an even more compelling urge to have access to her whenever I wish.

That will subside as soon as my cravings are satisfied.

“Being king has its perks, doesn’t it?” I smile. “You’re welcome to sit.”

She jumps as if startled out of a daze and rushes forward. “Yes, Your Highness.” There is plenty of space beside me on the settee, but she chooses the single wing chair across. My disappointment flares. I could order her to move closer to me and she would comply, but I’d rather she do it of her own volition than be forced.

I see what Kazimir meant when he said Gracen was drenched in worry at the dining hall. Even without my elven traits, I’d be able to read the mortal. I sense it in her rushed, shallow breathing, in the stiff way she moves. She was not like this in the library, earlier today, when I found Saoirse accosting her. Then, she was also riddled with fear, but that melted as we walked through the library in search of her son, her anxiety replaced by an appealing mixture of wonder and ease, coupled with a flush of lust that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all afternoon.

Whatever Gracen discovered, it must have been after I left her, and now she is apprehensive again.

“Your children are asleep?” I ask casually, hoping to ease her nerves.

“Yes, Your Highness.” She sits primly, her hands folded in her lap. Uncomfortable around me, which is the last thing I wish for her.