It was who I’d just sat in this very room discussing.
It was her.
The Maiden.
The Chosen.
The Queen’s favorite.
THE MAIDEN AND THE RED PEARL
The Maiden was here, in the godsdamn Red Pearl, in a room with me—under me—someone she had to fear more than the gods themselves. Because there was no doubt in my mind that she’d heard the whispers about me. The name the Blood Crown had given me.
The name I’d become.
I’d spent years planning to take her, had orchestrated many deaths and just sealed the fate of another, all so I could get close enough to take her. And she’d practically fallen into my lap.
Or I’d fallen into hers.
Whatever.
Another disbelieving laugh built in my throat because what in the wide kingdom of fucks was the unreachable, unseen, and untouched Maiden doing in the Red Pearl? In a private room. Kissing a man.
The laugh was never given life because something else snagged my attention. Her hair. It had always been hidden beneath the veil, but in the candlelight, I could tell that it was the color of the richest red wine.
I drew my hand out from behind her head, noting how she tensed as I picked up a strand, drawing it out. The tendril was soft as it slipped through my fingers.
The Maiden was a redhead.
I had no idea why that surprised me, but it felt like a discovery just as startling as finding her here.
“You are most definitely not who I thought you were,” I murmured.
“How did you know?” she demanded.
So, she does speak. Her voice was stronger and earthier than I’d expected.
The shock of the situation forced an honest answer out of me. “Because the last time I kissed the owner of this cloak, she damn near sucked my tongue down her throat.”
“Oh,” she whispered, and what I could see of her nose wrinkled.
My gaze flicked to hers, and I made another discovery. Her eyes, which were always hidden by the veil, were a stunning shade of green, as bright as spring grass.
I stared down at her, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was the Maiden, and that the Maiden was a green-eyed redhead, when something occurred to me. “Have you been kissed before?”
“I have!”
One side of my lips kicked up. “Do you always lie?”
“No!” she exclaimed.
“Liar,” I teased, unable to help myself.
The skin below the mask deepened to a rosy color as she pushed against my chest. “You should get off.”
“I was planning to,” I muttered, thinking she probably had no idea what that meant.
But then her eyes narrowed behind the mask in a way that told me she knew exactly what I meant, and that was another shock.
She had…the Maiden had a dirty mind.
The laugh that had been building broke free, and it was a real one that came from a warm place that hadn’t existed since I made the foolish decision to go after the Blood Crown myself. The laugh shocked the hell out of me, filling me with emotions I’d long believed dead.
Interest.
Awe.
Genuine curiosity.
A feeling of…contentment.
Contentment? Where in the fuck did that even come from? I had no idea, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I was interested. And, gods, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been focused on anything but my brother. The warmth in my chest iced over.
“You really should move,” she said.
Her demand pulled me from the disaster my thoughts were veering toward. “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”
“Well, I’m not.”
I could feel my lips twitch, and I didn’t know if it was the desperation to reclaim those fleeting emotions or something else that propelled me to behave as if I had no idea who she was. “Will you tell me who you are, Princess?”
“Princess?” She blinked.
“You are quite demanding.” I shrugged, thinking it was a far more fitting name than Maiden or Chosen. “I imagine a Princess to be demanding.”
“I am not demanding,” she argued. “Get off me.”
I arched a brow, feeling that warmth again—that…enjoyment. “Really?”
“Telling you to move is not being demanding.”
“We’ll have to disagree on that.” I paused. “Princess.”
Her lips curved and then flattened. “You shouldn’t call me that.”
“Then what should I call you? A name, perhaps?”
“I’m…I’m no one,” she replied.
“No One? What a strange name. Do girls with a name like that often make a habit of wearing other people’s clothing?”
“I’m not a girl,” she snapped.
“I would sure hope not.” Wait. I had no idea what the Maiden’s age was. I’d been teasing when I called her a girl, but… “How old are you?”
“Old enough to be in here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The amount of relief I felt was a warning. “In other words, old enough to be masquerading as someone else, allowing others to believe you’re another person and then allowing them to kiss—”
“I get what you’re saying,” she interrupted, surprising me yet again. “Yes, I’m old enough for all those things.”
Did she know what all those things were? Truly? If so, there was a whole hell of a lot I did not know about the Maiden. But I didn’t think that was the case. She didn’t kiss like someone who knew from personal experience what all those things were. “I’ll tell you who I am, although I have a feeling you already know. I’m Hawke Flynn.”
She was quiet for a moment and then squeaked out, “Hi.”
That… That was cute.
I grinned. “This is the part where you tell me your name.” When she said nothing, my interest only grew. It wasn’t like I expected her to admit who she was, but I was dying to discover what she would share. “Then I’ll have to keep calling you Princess. The least you can do is tell me why you didn’t stop me.”
Remaining stubbornly quiet, she drew her plump lower lip between her teeth.
Every part of me focused on that—on her mouth. And hell, that filled my head with all kinds of things my body was shamefully on board with. I shifted slightly, hiding my reaction. “I’m sure it’s more than my disarming good looks.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Of course.”
I laughed, surprised yet again by her—by myself. “I think you just insulted me.”
She winced. “That’s not what I meant—”
“You’ve wounded me, Princess.”
“I highly doubt that. You have to be more than well aware of your appearance.”
“I am.” I grinned at her. “It has led to quite a few people making questionable life choices.”
I hoped it would lead her to make some questionable life choices, which, considering where she was, she wasn’t unfamiliar with.
“Then why did you say you were insulted—?” Her mouth snapped shut, and she pushed against my chest again. “You’re still lying on me.”
“I know.”