Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Valen, naturally, tries everything.
He piles his plate high, takes a bite of the roast beast and nods with approval. He pops one of the shimmering muffins into his mouth, then washes it down with the chilled blue wine. He even likes the silver noodles.
“This is incredible,” he mutters, already going back for seconds.
I’m more cautious. I try a slice of roast—the flavor explodes on my tongue, rich and tangy with a hint of orange blossom. I nibble a sugared tuber and am rewarded with a slow burn of heat and spice. But I leave the noodles. I also refuse the wriggling pudding that appears later, blinking once with an embedded eyeball. Magic or not, I don’t want to eat something that can see me biting into it.
The Sorceress nibbles the various dishes and watches me throughout with a smile that’s far too knowing.
She’s enjoying this—I can tell. She likes watching my reaction to the food and enjoys watching me squirm in my dress. She also likes watching Valen devour the food.
I wonder what her game is—maybe it’s time to find out.
52
VALEN
The food is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted—a riot of spice and sweetness—textures and heat that make my tongue feel like it’s waking up after a long sleep. After starving most of the way through the forest—after scraping meals together and rationing everything—even the strangest dishes on the Sorceress’s table taste like luxury.
Irena sits to my right, flushed and distracted, still fighting with the ridiculous excuse for a gown she’s wearing. Every time she moves, the bodice slips lower or the skirt rides higher. She keeps tugging at it, trying—and failing—to cover both her nipples and her pussy at the same time.
Gods help me, she looks fucking incredible.
Her scent still clings to her—honey, flowers, and something unmistakably aroused. The bath did things to her. I know it did—I can smell it. I can feel it, sitting this close to her.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself.
But it’s too late—I can’t stop.
I think about her writhing in the tub… about the flowers sliding over her skin, sucking her nipples and tonguing her pussy. I think about the sounds she made while the fat green vine fucked her and came in her. I think about how much I want to do the same.
I shift slightly in my chair, grateful for the heavy table hiding the fact that I’ve been half-hard since we left our room.
Then—finally—she speaks.
“I know you must be wondering why we sought you out,” she says to the Sorceress.
I turn toward her, watching the way she lifts her chin, how she steels herself before going on. She’s nervous, but determined, my brave little Princess.
“Why yes, my dear—I've been waiting for you to bring it up,” the Sorceress says smoothly. “Please, do go on. Anything I can do for you, I will.”
Irena takes a deep breath. I see the hope in her eyes, fragile and bright, and something tightens painfully in my chest.
“My mother, the Queen of Therevan is ill,” she says. “She has a wasting sickness—the same kind that killed my father, the King, just two years ago.”
Her voice wavers. She stops, and I know she’s fighting tears. I hate seeing her like this—hate knowing how much she’s carrying alone. I want to put an arm around her—to comfort her—but that might derail her show of strength.
I keep my hands to myself.
“The Head Healer said that only a Draught of Healing mixed by your hand can cure her,” she continues at last. “So please—I’ll do anything if you’ll just make her the draught.”
The Sorceress clicks her long nails against her wineglass, the sound sharp in the silence.
“My dear, I wish that I could,” she says. “But I cannot brew the potion you ask for.”
“What? But I came all this way!” Irena’s eyes blaze. There are tears there too, shining and furious. “Please—I told you—I’ll do anything!”
“Ah, and indeed you may be called upon to do things you do not wish to do,” the Sorceress replies calmly. “For you didn’t let me finish. I cannot mix the Healing Draught for you—but you can.”
“What? Me? But if I knew how to make it, I never would have flown over the Poison Desert and risked going through Thornmere to get to you!” Irena snaps, frustration coloring her voice. “Do you know how much I risked? The things I’ve done that I would never have done otherwise?”
“Please don’t be upset—your sacrifices will not be in vain,” the Sorceress says. “It is a good thing you came to me. For you see, I am the only one who can teach you to harness your magic.”
“You keep saying that—saying I have magic.” Irena blows out a breath. “But I don’t. The only magic I wield is this ring.” She lifts her hand, the silver glinting. “It connects to the collar that Valen wears. It allows me to command him… to a certain point. But I still had to make a bargain with him to even get here to see you. It’s not absolute power. If I took off the ring…”