I bet.
He dropped his hand and ran it along her arm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch. A small smile lifted his lips. “As the king, I’m awarded certain privileges. Women are usually one of them.”
She almost scowled but managed to hold her mask in place. Women weren’t possessions to be given and collected.
Destin stepped closer and fingered the loose strand of hair near her temple. “I don’t tell you this to make you jealous or angry. I want honesty between us. I’m not a young man who flits from woman to woman, not knowing their worth.” He smiled, and chills ran down her spine. His expression was predatory. “I know what I have within my grasp, and I won’t let you go easily, dearest.”
Terror choked her as she tried to get a decent breath. He was above all scrutiny, and he knew it. The king could do whatever he wanted without reprimand.
“You look pale,” he murmured.
“I have pale skin,” she whispered. Wicked hell, dots flashed across her sight. She couldn’t faint here. Breathe.
Destin chuckled and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I’m sorry to have put you in such a position,” he continued and then took both of her hands in his own. “Take your time considering my proposal. Take all the time you need… though I hope that won’t be too long. But you’re worth waiting for, so I will happily deal with my own impatience if that makes you feel better about the engagement.”
Tempest nodded, her head stuffy. “You are too gracious, Your Majesty,” she said, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. “Thank you for taking my concerns into consideration.” She paused, then gently extricated her hands from Destin’s. “I do not wish to be ungrateful, my lord, but it has been a long journey.”
“Of course!” Destin murmured. “There goes my impatience again. You only just returned to Dotae, did you not? You must be exhausted.”
Ha. As if he did not know exactly when she arrived. More games. Deadly ones.
She smiled gratefully, letting her shoulders slump and her very real fatigue peek through. “Very much so. I shall consider your proposal. Good evening.”
He leaned close, and she stiffened when he pressed a lingering kiss to her hair, his breath heating her temple. “Good night, dearest. I’ll see you soon.”
She pulled back. Her steps were wooden as she exited the king’s chamber. The palace passed by in a blur. The winter night bit at her cheeks and ears as she wandered toward the barracks, his words replaying over and over in her mind. What was the bloody king thinking? Marriage to her? She entered the barracks and found most of the Hounds were sleeping. Except for one.
Maxim lifted his head from his pillow and pointed to the tray at the end of her bed. “There’s some stew and bread.”
Tempest shook her head. If she ate now, she’d just throw up. Her fingers shook as she tugged the cloak from her shoulders.
“What is it, lass?” Maxim asked, sitting up.
She shook her head. How was she supposed to explain what just happened? She climbed into bed and yanked her covers over her shoulders.
Her uncle watched her with worried eyes. “Did he hurt you?” His words were hushed.
“No,” she whispered.
“I’m worried.”
“So am I.” Tempest closed her eyes, her body trembling. Sleep would be a long time coming.
“Pay attention, Tempest!” Madrid yelled, whacking her on the back with the edge of his wooden sword. The third hit that morning. “You need to focus. Get your head out of the clouds. You would be dead three times over.”
Wincing away from Madrid’s blow, she straightened her back and shook out her shoulders. Her performance was embarrassingly poor. She took a swig from her waterskin and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It was not often she had an opportunity to fight against the head of the Hounds, even in training. That she was squandering it because she had a million-and-one things to think about was decidedly un-Tempest-like.
No excuses. Work harder.
She bowed her head apologetically to Madrid. “Sorry,” she mumbled and sketched a quick bow before exiting the ring, aware of the curious looks being tossed her way. Could she go nowhere without making a damn spectacle of herself?
Tempest grabbed her cloak from the barracks, the sweat cooling on her skin. She needed time to think. To be alone. Dima and Maxim had been whispering all morning, and it was only a matter of time before they cornered her.
She lifted her hood over her hair and skulked down the busy streets. Dotae was not the kind of city where you could ever truly be alone. There was always someone watching you, someone gossiping about you, or some underhanded deal being conducted in the back of an alley that you were never supposed to stumble upon. So long as she kept her thoughts inside her head then nobody could use them against her.
The Jester could shift into an entirely different person. What was to say there wasn’t someone who could read minds?
Shivering at the uncomfortable thought, she scanned the buildings around her before choosing a promising one. It was just high enough to get her out of the fray. Tempest climbed up a brick wall before swinging her legs up and beneath her as she reached the snowy roof. She hid behind a chimney to remain unseen. She brushed the snow from the roof tiles and sat, the chill from the pottery seeping through her layers. She adjusted her cloak until she was almost warm and comfortable.
Almost.
It wasn’t the bite from the winter morning that made her uncomfortable. It was all the secrets she was carrying. Too many secrets.
One of them is going to get you killed. The king would want an answer soon.
Tempest tucked her hands under her armpits and studied the cloudy sky, weak winter sunlight breaking through in beams here and there over the colossal city.
She hunched forward and leaned her forehead against her knees. Days prior, she had been wondering if there was any way she could make a difference to the fraught situation between Heimserya and Talaga without having to debase herself by aligning with the Jester and the Dark Court. Here was a solution laid neatly at her feet.
She could be queen.
Queen of Heimserya. A position that afforded her some protection if she challenged Destin. A way to bring about change for their kingdom.
The Jester’s plan involved the removal of the king from power, but that was where his plan stopped. He had nobody arranged to ascend the throne once his anarchy brought the kingdom to its knees, which spelled only more trouble and left Heimserya vulnerable to their enemies. She lifted her head and glanced toward the south ports, in the direction of the Hinterlands. There were monarchs just as bad, if not worse, who ruled. Which meant that creating a balance of power with the existing kingdom was perhaps exactly what was needed.
You’re just a forest girl.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m the first female Hound. I could do it if I chose to.” Living as the king’s consort would not be an easy choice, but when had she ever taken the easy route? The question that bothered her the most was why he’d offered her marriage. Tempest didn’t come from a highborn family, nor was she from one with money. Her reputation as a respectable female was nonexistent, thanks to living with men and being raised by them. Hell, her trousers and smart mouth had made more than one lady of the court swoon in shock.