13
Reaching down my body, I fix the skirt back over my legs. Like last time, there was little in this fumble for me.
Prince Daein wasn’t fixated on my pleasure like he has been when he kissed my core or slipped his fingers inside of me.
It makes me wonder if he was luring me into his trap and now, he can take from me without giving anything back besides the white powder.
Maybe it’s just the moments, though. The first time, he was focused only on himself and his own pleasure. The second time, he was furious with both his brother and me.
I wonder if he still is angry with me.
Beside me, he lies on his back, his forearms crossed over his face as though he hides something from me.
My cheek is turned to the mattress as I watch him.
In his hurry to take me, he left his clothes untouched. Even his coat still covers him, though it’s unbuttoned. Fleetingly, I wonder when he did that.
The mattress suddenly shifts beneath me as the prince sits upright. He pushes up from the bed, his boots thudding against the thick, white-grass rug. Somehow, when his boots flatten against the glittery blades of grass then lift, the grass springs back to life as if never crushed in the first place.
The wonder of this place creeps back into my thoughts sometimes. Like the hallway in the slave’s areas that we can’t actually go through. It’s overgrown with wild black vines, deadly to humans—and apparently the last time one of the human slaves used the corridor to use the quicker path to the other side of the castle, the vines snared around him and dragged him into the wall. A search party found him that Quiet—using the flames of candles to fight off the black vines—and he was mostly devoured by the wild, flesh-eating plant already. His bones are still there, according to Hilda.
I throw all thoughts of the lost slave from my mind as I watch the prince. He shrugs off his coat, then tosses it on a tree stump beside the floor-to-ceiling mirror that shimmers like the waters of the clearwater lake whenever it’s not being used. Once, I walked by it and stole a quick look at myself, but it didn’t clear for me. Only for the prince does it reveal a reflection, I figure.
Beside the golden-framed mirror, there stands a shabby black chest of drawers whose handles are fashioned from the scales of some dark lands beast. Fleetingly, I wonder if Daein killed the beast himself. Does he hunt for enjoyment when not with the litalves?
Of course he does. He’s a dark fae. Why do I take moments to trick myself into thinking—even if for just a heartbeat—that he’s anything less of a monster than he is. Sitting on his bed, his essence still inside of me, doesn’t change any of that. It doesn’t change him.
Daein seems to have me on mind, though. At least, he has our bargain on mind.
In the top drawer, he draws out a silver pot filled with white powder and a spoon sticking out of it. Still, he ignores the spoon and dips his fingertip into the powder, gathering just the right amount for me.
He doesn’t watch to see if he spills any as he turns back to me and approaches the bed. His glacier eyes are on me.
He extends his finger.
I shimmy down to the side of the bed, bringing my legs to fold under me.
Daein slips his finger into his mouth, pressing the bitter powder down on my tongue. I give a gentle suck, making sure to get my bargain’s worth.
As he drags his finger out of my mouth and down my bottom lip then to my jaw, he nudges me. His hint is clear, and I take it, falling back down on the mattress. He wants me to rest a moment, so I do.
I close my eyes, waiting on the effects of the white powder hitting me...
And I drift off.
*
I open my heavy eyes to a moody light. Lantern flames have been turned down low and some of the candles blown out.
I know where I am as soon as I wake and feel the embrace of the feather mattress embracing me, the spider-silk sheets drawn over my body, the sinking pillow beneath my well-rested head.
Rubbing my hands down my face, I release a yelping yawn and roll onto my back. I lay there for a moment, staring up at the golden paint on the ceiling—art I’ve never noticed before, the faint outline of the female form.
I comb my fingers through my hair. Bone-dry. I must have been out for a while.
Then it really sinks in, my heart falling like a sinking boat in rocky waters.
I slept in the prince’s bed.