“It is not me who needs you. It is the king.”
The food in her stomach curdled as she caught the king watching her out of the corner of his eye, that same smile on his face from earlier, but the gleam in his gaze was quite different. Possessive. Heated. Dangerous.
He wants you in his bed.
She swallowed, and sweat beaded between her breasts. There were many things she’d do for her kingdom, but becoming the king’s whore wasn’t one of them. It was all Tempest could do to keep her face blank as she obediently followed her uncle into an adjacent room. Several people from the banquet wandered about the room speaking quietly while sipping mead, whiskey, or wine. Her nausea abated. She wouldn’t have to face the king alone. That she could deal with.
No sooner had the thought passed through her mind when the door closed behind her and heat pressed against her back.
“My Lady Hound,” the king murmured, just for her ears. He stroked a subtle finger down her arm as he moved around her, turning his body slightly so that nobody else in the room could see the blatantly personal gesture. Tempest bit back her flight or fight response, only just managing to stay rooted to the spot.
You can’t stab the king.
“Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head politely.
“Did you enjoy dinner, Tempest?” King Destin asked. “You seemed rather tense.”
“Merely tired, I must admit,” Tempest said, unnerved that her discomfort must have been so obvious throughout the entire banquet. She needed to get better at concealing her emotions. Her lips pursed as Pyre’s voice floated through her mind: I can read you like a book.
Stop thinking about him.
“Would you care to have a drink?” the king asked, proffering a glass of his preferred fire whiskey to Tempest in the process. “I know spirits are an acquired taste, but once you have developed such a palate, you can’t go back to anything else. It is truly addictive.”
The grin that spread across the king’s face at the word addictive caused Tempest’s skin to crawl. Did everything he say have an ulterior meaning? She swallowed. She knew what was really addictive: the damn drug he was spreading throughout their kingdom.
Tempest forced herself to look Destin square in his amber eyes. The faint lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled slightly, and he gave her an intimate smile.
None of that. She wasn’t having any of his lusty looks, nor the alcohol that would dull her senses. The wine tonight was enough.
“I must, unfortunately, decline,” Tempest said quietly, satisfied that her voice remained stable, pleasant, and polite. “It has been a long day.” Longer since she had borne his and his sons’ presence earlier.
“It is always a long day with you, Tempest,” Destin said, before tossing back the whiskey he had initially offered to her. He turned to face the rest of the room, signaling with a wave of his hand for everyone’s attention.
“As you are all no doubt aware,” he began in a commanding voice that carried across the room, “my wonderful Lady Hound, Tempest, recently managed to successfully infiltrate the Talagan rebel group and deliver me the heart of the Jester. I had hoped—just as all of you no doubt did—that destroying their leader would put a stop to their vicious attacks against our country. I was wrong.”
Because that heart was not the Jester’s. Temp schooled her expression as satisfaction rolled through her. She’d managed to keep them safe. For now. Her mind drifted to the kitsune once again. If Nyx, his sister, was in charge, what was Pyre’s role, other than the ringleader of all the shady, nefarious underground dealings that filtered throughout the kingdom?
“And now there are reports of missing children from right here in the capital city, rumored to be victims of the Dark Court,” Destin continued.
Temp stiffened. Disappearing children? Winter’s bite, what was the king doing with the children of Dotae? She offered a little prayer that the children were somewhere safe. Tempest gazed at the king. His face was darkened with anger, as if he were outraged and pained. He was an excellent actor. What else was he hiding from the world?
“Dotae be good, this is the last stand,” he said gruffly. “We will crush these rebels, and the Dark Court, once and for all.”
The Dark Court.
Tempest had very little real information about the Dark Court outside of fairy tales told to children to scare them into behaving. What information did the war council have on the self-made renegade court? She had no doubt that Pyre was involved with the criminal empire that ran in the shadowed corners of the night. The question was how deep were Nyx and Pyre?
She schooled her face back to a neutral expression when Madrid’s gaze darted her way. Damn, that man was too quick. Internally, she kicked herself. She needed to keep her emotions below the surface. How she felt about the rebels that had pulled her into their schemes had no consequence. Focusing on the task of discovering where the mimkia originated and stopping the flow of poison was of the utmost importance. Once that was done, she’d deal with the rebels and the king.
One thing at a time.
Just what was the next thing? King Destin and at least some of the war council were responsible for the destruction of the villages along the border; that much Tempest was certain of. She would be naïve to think that the Hounds had nothing to do with it either, even if they didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on.
The memory of a smell—cloyingly sweet and sickly—filled Tempest’s mind, and her heart grew heavy. If any of the Hounds were involved in the spread of mimkia drug—the deadly version of it—it was most likely Aleks. And Madrid, Tempest thought, for the hundredth time, sneaking a glance at the head of the group she had once been so proud to be a part of. Nothing went on in the kingdom without Madrid’s knowledge.
King Destin continued, pulling Temp from her thoughts. “We cannot launch a full-on attack on the rebels when we do not know who most of them are and where they reside. The Dark Court is clearly helping them escape our clutches and spread their poison, which means we need another approach.”
Sweat trickled down her spine when King Destin looked at her and smiled slowly. Tempest braced herself. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what he said next. Her skin prickled, and she peeked from the corner of her eye at the group and then back to the king. Their little stare-off drew the attention of those in the room. The somewhat sadistic gleam in Destin’s eyes as he smiled in a faux-charming way only made her heart beat faster. Wicked hell, she really, really wouldn’t like what was coming.
“Which brings me back to my Lady Hound.”
Tempest twitched once more at the nickname. She wasn’t his anything. She caught Madrid drifting closer to her from the corner of her eye. That wasn’t a good sign. Had they discovered her deception? Was this an execution? Madrid paused to her left, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. No weapons. Not that he needed any.
She fought to keep the king’s gaze. If he was going to cut her down, here and now, she wouldn’t cower and beg. She’d made her decisions. Temp straightened her spine and steeled her resolve as she matched the king’s stare. They could call her a traitor, but the real traitor was their sovereign.
King Destin could throw anything Tempest’s way. She could handle it.
She had to.