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

“The reason I came here, Gracen, is that the mortal children in the ballroom need care, and I would like you to be in charge of it.”

“Me?” I squeak.

“I cannot think of a better person for this particular role.” His eyes drift over my face. “I trust you to ensure they are cared for properly while they are held here. I trust you, period.”

I feel lightheaded. “Of course, Your Highness. Yes, I will do it.”

He smiles. “I will advise Boaz that he is to accommodate all of your requests, whatever they may be. Blankets, food, additional support … whatever you deem necessary, he is to comply without question. You give the order, and it is done.”

My mind spins. Me, giving orders to others? I cannot fathom it. But for these children, I can do it. “Can I go see them now?” They must have been in there for hours.

His hand folds over mine. “Shortly. If you’ll allow me another moment of your precious time.” He grazes my cheek with the backs of his knuckles before smoothing his palm over my neck.

I swallow. “Did you need me?” I reach for the collar of my dress, ready to unfasten and push it away, to give him access, glancing cautiously toward the stairs at the other end of the cellar.

“Kazimir will not let anyone enter. And, yes, I need you, Gracen. But not like that.” The intent in his gaze is potent, intoxicating.

My body flushes with anticipation. “Thank you, Atticus, for the book, and for trusting me with so much.” I stretch up and press a chaste kiss against his lips. When I break free, he chases, his other hand finding its way to my hip as his mouth collides against mine, as if he was restraining himself but can’t anymore.

Our tongues tangle much like they did last night, his powerful body enveloping me, his hand venturing from my hip to my backside, down to my thigh.

“Can I?” I reach out with a tentative hand, curling a short wisp of his hair between my fingertips.

“You don’t have to ask for permission, Gracen,” he whispers against my mouth. “In fact, please do not. And you may touch me anywhere you wish to.”

Unable to resist anymore, my fingers crawl up his stately jacket, over the fine embroidery, the detailed gold buttons, before I shift my focus wholly to the strength of the male beneath, and the urge to feel him.

“I don’t normally take as I did last night.”

I peer into his eyes to find them blazing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you didn’t give me a chance to thank you properly.” His lips find my neck. I close my eyes and revel in his tongue against my skin again, as his mouth moves downward, tracing my collarbone. His fist balls up material from my skirt.

“But you will give me that chance tonight when you come up to my chamber.”

I tip my head back. “I will do whatever you wish.”

“I wish. But in case there is any doubt, that is also an order.” He pulls me close until I feel the press of his hard length against my stomach.

“Yes, Your Highness.” My voice has turned heady, desperate.

His teeth scrape along my jawline, but then he pulls away with a deep groan. “I know you are anxious to see the children, so I will not hold you any longer. Tonight, at midnight.” With one last kiss against my lips, he strolls out, humming.

And I’m left standing there, dumbfounded by what just happened.

Corrin sweeps in moments later. “What did he want?” Her gaze automatically shifts to my neck.

But my thoughts are already racing forward. “The children will be hungry,” I hear myself murmur. “Let’s get Fikar back in here with some more crates.”





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO




ZANDER


“This is the halfway mark,” Radomir announces, pointing at the narrowed path and a portico high above us. The same odd alphabet that marks the sanctum in Ulysede and countless books in its library shows here, linking Soldor to ancient times far beyond our comprehension.

Perhaps Gesine can find some knowledge on it.

Torches burn every ten riders for the safety of the horses, but even I appreciate having the extra light to marvel on this mine that the saplings have used for centuries, many of its walls and stalwarts not only intact but in pristine condition, the arches and details still distinguishable as if many millennia have not passed, and the earth running alongside the city did not crack open from the angry might of a god.

I peer behind us at the snaking lines of soldiers, all with a guarded eye on the enemy that rides at their side. We’ve been moving for hours through this vacant tomb, no hint of life beyond ours to be seen. I sense fatigue. “The horses could use a break.”

“There is a spot just ahead. It should accommodate everyone once we are through. I will warn you, though, it opens into the rift and there is a water source there, so we may find ourselves with company.”

“Who knew, even demons from the Nulling suffer from thirst.” Abarrane draws a second sword with a grimace. Rings of metal echo through the cavern as others follow suit.

“Company such as …” What should we be preparing for?

“Mostly shadow dwellers and things with too many legs to count. There may be the odd hag or nethertaur. Once, though, we encountered a wyvern. She was a mighty beast, but she left us alone. They do not have a taste for our kind.” He flashes those jagged teeth.

Elisaf surveys around us. “Why do I feel like bait?”

Kienen steps forward. “Your Highness, allow my strongest with the affinity through first. We can slow anything down should it be waiting until enough reinforcements fall into place.”

“We do not need your affinities where our blades will do,” Abarrane scoffs.

I sigh with forced patience. “And I would rather we not waste our blades and energy when their affinities may do.” I nod at him. “I accept your offer with my appreciation.”

“Aziel, Dorian,” Kienen calls out, beckoning the soldier he left in charge earlier and another. The two shift out of line, snapping fingers that draw ten more Ybarisans with them. They pass by us to join Radomir at the lead.

Abarrane studies Kienen through narrowed eyes. “Do not do anything that might bring this place down on our heads.”

The corners of his mouth curl. “Give me some credit that I can wield my weapon with skill, Commander. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“You’ve proven nothing to me. But after you.” She bows dramatically, and then watches his back as the Ybarisans move through the passage on their horses in double file. “He is too eager to please you.”

“Maybe he thinks that’s the way to your soft, warm heart.”

She snorts and goads her horse forward, her swords drawn as if expecting an imminent attack.

We follow, the legionaries surrounding Telor and me, their heads on swivels.