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The High King of Elfhame strolled through the corridors of his palace, a bored look and half-smile on his face, but underneath the surface he was seething. Another long and fruitless council meeting had left him in an ill-tempered mood. He was just about ready to start banging the heads of the various council members together, just to see if it would knock some sense into them. I need wine. Lots and lots of wine.
As he approached his chambers, the guards trailing along behind him changed their formation, two moving ahead of him and one closer behind.
The two guards at the front slipped quietly into his rooms to ensure there was no one waiting inside with ill-intentions towards the High King. Within a few moments they slipped back out and took positions on either side of the doors before opening them wide.
They bowed as he walked through the doorway before closing the doors silently behind him.
The moment the doors closed, the smile disappeared from his face, leaving a tired and somewhat exasperated expression behind. He rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. All these pointless meetings are getting very wearing.
His eyes swept the room, noticing a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax, resting on his tidy (unused) desk. He made his way across the room, snagging a pre-filled goblet of wine from a small side table that also held a filled cut-glass flagon as he passed and taking a long drink from it.
He stared down at the parchment, it was unaddressed, the wax of the seal a deep red. Nothing out of the ordinary. Other than it being a mysterious letter left on my desk. A true smile slowly crossed his face as his brain more belatedly realised that the image pressed into the seal was that of a dagger.
He cracked the seal with his finger and opened up the note:
Attend the CoS for a lesson.
It was unsigned, but the handwriting was as familiar to Cardan as his own. He groaned, he was not in the mood for a couple of hours of sparring with wooden swords, I’d rather be spending my evening gazing into the bottom of this delightful goblet of wine. Maybe with a couple of equally delightful distractions.
Taking another swig from the goblet, he sauntered into his bedroom to the armoire, opening it and gazing within. After a few moments he pulled out a black, loose-fitting shirt and black trousers. He quickly stripped off the dark-blue, heavily brocaded overshirt and trousers and loose white undershirt and replaced them with the black ensemble and some soft black leather boots. He stripped off rings, earrings and necklaces, leaving just his crown, askew on his brow, a handful of silver rings on his hands and one gold and ruby ring on one of his smallest fingers.
That ring he twisted around absently on his finger with his thumb as he looked at himself in the full length glass. A very dashing spy, he grinned at his reflection giving himself a wink as he turned away and headed back across the room to the panelling on the opposite side.
He pushed a small carving in the wood, hearing a click inside the wall. A crack appeared in the panelling as a small, narrow door opened. Cardan ducked through it, pushing it closed behind him.
There was no light once the door shut, but that didn’t bother him, walking surefootedly down the subtly sloping corridor towards the Court of Shadows.
✨✨✨
He stood in the deep shadows of the doorway, the main room was empty, the spies off about their business elsewhere. He could hear the murmur of voices coming from the study at the far end of the room, the door partly open.
Curious, he soundlessly crossed the room. As he got closer he could see through the gap between the door and the frame, Jude and the Bomb, stood in front of the large desk, heads close together talking quietly.
Seeing Jude standing there, he completely forgot he was supposed to be the embodiment of stealth and bumped a chair with his foot. The girl and the pixie spun to face him, Jude reaching for one of her many concealed daggers.
He immediately raised his hands, palms out and grinned lazily. “Is my lesson,” he emphasised the word, “going to involve you stabbing me? Because, if that’s the case, I’ve got a delightful bottle of wine in my rooms I’d rather spend the evening with.” He moved to lean against the door frame pushing the door open the rest of the way with his foot.
The Bomb ducked her head to hide a smile. Jude just glared at him. Like she always did. Her brows furrowing as she looked him up and down. A shiver ran down Cardan’s spine and he willed himself to stay still. He could feel the end of his tail flicking around his ankle down the leg of his trousers as her gaze raked across him. You are a serene, still pool. Not a ripple stirs you… dear gods! He could feel his skin growing hot under her gaze. I am still. I am serene.
“As much as that sounds very entertaining, Your Majesty, we won’t be trying to improve your fighting skills today,” a tiny quirk to the corner of her lips, gone so quickly Cardan wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
The Bomb handed Jude two small glass vials. “Just in case you need them,” she said quietly to her with a wink.
“Your Majesty,” the Bomb bowed to Cardan before slipping out of the door and down a shadowy corridor, whistling as she went. Leaving the two of them alone. Cardan moved to lean against the door, pushing it gently closed with his shoulder. He crossed his arms and grinned at Jude.
“So,” he said looking at the two vials, “why would you need those for ‘just in case’?”
Jude brushed the skirts of her deep green dress, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
“Today, I’m going to test you on your knowledge of poisons. Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention to the Bomb and me over the last couple of weeks,” she took a side step revealing a dozen or so bottles, all different shapes and sizes, on the desk. “You have food tasters who can probably catch anything put in your food or drink, but they’re useless if your poisoner uses other methods to get the poison into you.”
Cardan was momentarily confused by the faint blush staining Jude’s cheeks as she spoke. “Other methods?” He echoed. Oh, ooooh! He realised then what his Seneschal was implying.
They stared at each other across the room for long seconds.
“Do you pay any attention to who you take back to your rooms?” Jude casually asked him, but with a look that was anything but casual.
No. Not really. “If you’re so worried about my well-being, there’s nothing stopping you from joining me in my rooms,” he gave her his best salacious wink. “Making sure my guests are on their best behaviour.”
“I don’t think so, Cardan. I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he retorted.
Jude sighed. “Everything’s a game to you. So let’s make a game of this,” she pointed to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit.”
A slow grin crossed Cardan’s face as he pushed himself away from the door and sauntered across the room, never breaking eye contact with Jude. He flopped into the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He crossed his legs at the ankle and looked up at Jude, trying his best to look innocent. “Are you going to tie me to this chair again?” he asked, fighting to hide his smile. And failing. Miserably. Just the thought of that moment made him go all hot and a little bit giddy.
Jude matched his grin with a small smile of her own, barely a twist of her lips. “That all depends on you, doesn’t it? Do you want my knife at your throat again?”
Yes.
Cardan clenched his teeth as he continued smiling. Keeping silent. For the mortal ability to lie! He thought to himself.
“Can I trust you not to peek?”
Cardan closed his eyes. “My dear Seneschal, I will not open my eyes until you tell me to.” He leant back more in the chair, pushing it back onto two legs.
He heard Jude click her tongue to herself followed by the rustle of her skirts as she presumably turned back to the desk. After a moment he could make out the sound of the bottles being moved and the tops being removed and replaced. He frowned, unsure what she was doing. The rustle of her skirts again. The clinking of the bottles as they were lifted and put down again on the desk.
“Okay, you can open your eyes.”
Cardan blinked and his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim candlelight again.
Jude placed her hands behind her on the desk and with a little jump sat on it, her feet swinging. Why do you suddenly look nervous? Cardan wondered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“So, here’s the game,” she stared down at him, barely blinking, not breaking eye contact. “There are seven poisons on my skin. You have to find them and identify them. Don’t worry, there’s not enough to kill you, probably no more than a royal headache, that’s why the Bomb left these,” she gestured at the two vials, separate to the other bottles, “for you.”
“Ah,” Cardan replied, looking up at her, his grin long gone. “The ‘just in case’.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and ran through Jude’s words again in his head. And again and again, looking for the trick, the lie. He couldn’t find one.
“Indeed. Up to now, you’ve only had a taste of cold poisons. Warmed by body heat, their smell and taste may change. This will make it harder for you,” a wicked grin stretched her lips. “We’ve made a wager on it, the Bomb and I. I think you’ll, at best, manage to guess three. The Bomb has more confidence in her High King and thinks you’ll manage four.”
Cardan did his best to look affronted while his mind whirled. Her skin? Her skin! Oh gods above. Is she trying to kill me? I should leave. I should probably leave. He suddenly felt rather uncomfortably hot. “You have so little faith in me you do not think I will correctly guess even half of them?”
“Prove me wrong then,” Jude retorted, eyes glittering as she stared at him.
Oh, I will. I will beat your game and I will best you while I do it. He raised an eyebrow, hoping his face looked more serene than the churning of his thoughts in his head. He could feel the end of his tail snapping back and forth against his ankle. He was glad that Jude couldn’t see it, that it was hidden by his other leg.
“Do I get a clue on where to start?” he finally asked, looking her up and down, which, he noticed, caused her to blush again. Interesting. But now was not the time to ponder on that.
Jude stopped swinging her feet, legs crossing neatly at the ankle. She gave him a look. A look as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror. A look that would make a lesser man (or faerie) quail in fear. A look she directed at him a lot. He met her gaze steadily. The shiver was running back up his spine, hot this time. “Would your assassin tell you where he or she had hidden your death?” she asked him.
No, I suppose not. He slowly stood up and closed the gap between them in a few steps. Her knees pressed against his thighs as he stopped in front of her. There was a low buzzing in his head. What are we doing? This is madness. His gaze dropped to Jude’s chest which was rising and falling quickly. He could hear her heart beating fast, really fast. He pulled his gaze up to her face, realising, somewhat slowly, that he was staring at her breasts.
Jude regarded him coolly, a single eyebrow raised. Expression completely at odds to her racing heart. “Your time starts now.”
Cardan frowned. Trying to decide where to start. He wanted to take a few deep breaths to calm his heart, but knew that Jude would notice. And he refused to give her any reason to smirk at him, or allow her to realise that his heart was also racing like a love-struck teenagers.
He took her left hand in his, like a courtier greeting a queen. Her fingers curled around his and he noticed a quick glimmer of wetness across her knuckles. He smiled. Brought her hand up to his face and sniffed. The scent of almonds. Mixed with soap and the scent of her. Jude’s breath hitched as he licked across her knuckles. Almonds again. His tongue swished back, licking up the last drops of the poison of her skin, eyes focusing on her hand, her blue-tinged fingernails. That’s odd.
He kissed each knuckle, the buzzing in his head increasing. I should not be doing this, he thought to himself. The wicked voice in his head laughed at him. He reached her ring finger, the one missing its tip, and he looked up at her. She was gazing at him, unblinking, lips pressed together. He kissed the knuckle, not breaking his gaze. Jude blinked. He kissed the knuckle of her little finger, and raised his head. He didn’t drop her hand, her palm hot against his fingers.
“Smells and tastes of almonds,” he surprised himself with how steady his voice was. “One: Cyanide.”
Jude held up one finger, nodding, but didn’t say a word. Cardan grinned, pleased with himself. He realised he was still holding her hand. Didn’t let it go. He shifted his grip, turning her hand over and spotted a faint purple smudge on her wrist. Ah ha! He could feel Jude’s eyes burning into him as he pulled her arm towards him. He pressed a kiss to the smudge, his lips began to tingle. Is that the poison or the taste of her skin? he wondered. His tongue darted out licking the poison, his lips still on her wrist. His tongue began to tingle. Poison then. Probably, he thought as he wracked his brains for the name of this poison.
“Two: Wolfsbane,” he murmured against her skin. He watched as the fine hairs on her arm stood up as his breath caressed them. He kissed her wrist one more time before letting go of her hand and meeting Jude’s eyes again.
Her face was flushed, eyes dark, mouth slightly parted. She held up two fingers nodding once, but kept her silence. He stared back at her. Bitten off more than you can chew, dear Seneschal? He smiled at the thought. Jude’s eyes widened at his expression.
He hummed, his eyes raking her upper body looking for telltale signs. “How fortunate that you decided to wear such a revealing dress,” he told her. He spotted a glimmer highlighting her right collarbone and in a smooth movement he leant forward, and licked slowly along it, his arm going around her to steady himself.
So many nights he’d dreamt of doing this. This and more. Waking hot and hard and angry when he realised it was just his overactive imagination. Then having to close his eyes and pretend again, pretend she was touching him. The reality was nothing like he’d imagined. It is so much better.
He was so taken in by the feeling of her skin, that he was kissing and licking her skin, that he completely forgot, for just a moment, the game they were playing. The little voice in the back of his head was laughing hysterically at how easy it was for him to fall, taunting him. He ignored it.
Hoping he’d not licked all the poison away, he swept his tongue across her collarbone again, causing Jude to gasp. He could feel her heart pounding, as if it was trying to fly away from the cage of her ribs. There. It was faint but he could taste it. Floral, with a hint of darkness. He frowned. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a slight smile on Jude’s face. She wasn’t looking at him.
He was not going to let her win.
He thought back to their lessons. A vague memory of a small white flower, innocuous but with an aura of languorous danger about it. He trailed kisses back down her collarbone, back towards the centre of her chest, looking up at her through his lashes. “Three: Deathsweet, it’s deathsweet.”
Jude closed her eyes as he kissed his way up her other collarbone, holding up three fingers. She didn’t nod this time. There was no poison smeared across it, but that didn’t stop him. Need to be thorough after all, he thought. He could feel her shiver. Are you that repulsed by my touch on your skin?
As his kisses reached her shoulder he could smell something sweet, not sweet like honey - closer to burnt sugar. He licked her shoulder, the bittersweet taste filling his mouth which twisted into a grimace. “Four: Belladonna,” he muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Jude raised four fingers, a strange expression on her face. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, eyes focusing on the far wall.
Cardan grinned at her as realisation struck him. “Dearest Jude, it appears you lost your wager with the Bomb and I’ve exceeded your low expectations of me. I do hope your forfeit is suitably humiliating. Can I watch?”
Jude rolled her eyes, exasperation crossing her features, cooling the flush of her cheeks. “No,” she said in a low voice. “You cannot.”
“That’s a shame,” he replied with a shrug. He tapped a finger to his lips. Pondering where to go next. “Can I?” he asked her, pointing to her hair, draped over her other shoulder.
“Go ahead.”
Slowly, he reached forward and gently brushed her hair back, exposing her neck. Her eyes were watching his face now and not the wall. In the candlelight he could just pick out a faint glimmer of silver. A drip that started behind her ear and ran down her neck stopping just above the corner of her neck and shoulder.
He already knew what it was. Maiden’s Tears. Oh, my Seneschal, you’re making this too easy for me. He gently ran his index finger down her neck, making sure to avoid the poison. Jude’s eyes closed and she let out the tiniest of sighs as she tilted her head to the side.
Cardan’s eyes widened, never expecting, even in his wildest dreams (and some of them were truly wild!) that Jude would willingly bare her neck to him. Quickly, before she changed her mind, he brought his lips to the base of her neck. The lightest of kisses on the pool of silver.
The salt of the poison burnt his lips and he nearly let out a growl, just managing to smother it down. His hand was still at Jude’s back, now digging into the fabric, pulling her closer to him.
He licked roughly up her neck, swallowing down the bitter poison, feeling it burn. But he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was taste Jude, kiss her, worship her. Warmed by her skin, the Maiden’s Tears tasted completely different, it tasted of spice and the promise of a fiery death.
He bit her earlobe, not as gently as he planned, as the poison rushed through his veins. Eliciting a gasp. She didn’t pull away though. Didn’t stop the game. He kissed her lobe, more gently, breathing a very human apology in her ear. He kissed the shell of her ear, featherlight kisses, her hair tickling his nose.
He kissed back down her neck, skin hot, feverish, her pulse racing beneath his lips. All traces of the poison were gone from her skin and all he could taste was her. He couldn’t stop himself from biting the base of her neck, knowing it would leave a mark, knowing that he didn’t care. He could hear Jude’s breath getting more ragged, could see out of the corner of his eye that she was biting the inside of her mouth, struggling to keep her silence.
He bit her neck one more time before pulling away. He took a step back, his body complaining as he unwrapped his arm from around her. He felt like he was going to combust. The fire coiling low in his belly, biding its time before it set him alight. He realised his trousers were uncomfortably tight, and hoped beyond hope that Jude hadn't noticed.
Jude looked terrifically dishevelled. Her hands, still in her lap, had fisted the material of her skirts, a bright blush on her cheeks, sweat beading on her brow, on her chest. How he wanted to kiss it off her.
He took a shaky breath. “It was Maiden’s Tears,” he told her.
Jude nodded and held up her hand, fingers and thumb splayed. Five correct.
Cardan realised that Jude was running out of places to hide the poison. Staring at her face, he could have kicked himself when he realised the most obvious place she would have hidden a poison. You absolute idiot! he thought to himself, the voice in the back of his head agreeing wholeheartedly with him.
Throwing caution to the wind, he tilted his head and leant forward to kiss her. Don’t forget the poison, was his last coherent thought. He closed his eyes.
Her lips were like fire, hot and burning his own. The fire in the pit of his belly rose to meet it. He caught tastes of earth, loam and a greyness before he lost all sense of himself.
He felt Jude gasp in his mouth, that intake of breath that made him forget everything but this moment. His arms wrapped around her pulling her closer to him, her knees opening so he could step forward and pull her flush to his body, suddenly uncaring that his very obvious erection was now pressed against her lower body. His chest rising and falling against hers with each racing breath.
Her hands threaded into his hair, trying to pull him even closer, and he smiled against her lips, her tongue fought with his, their breath mingling. This is glorious.
One of her hands let go of his hair and started tracing down his face. He risked opening his eyes for a second, Jude’s were still closed but her eyebrows were raised as if she was shocked by what she was doing.
Her hand skated down his neck, the sensation of it making him shiver. Her gentle touches on him, skating down his chest, her hot fingers burning again any bare bits of skin she found as her hand travelled down. And down. And…
He gasped, body freezing, eyes flying open as her hand brushed across his trousers, across his cock, which traitorously twitched at her caress.
Jude was now staring at him, her mouth still on his. It could have been seconds, it could have been days, he wasn’t sure, but he felt her mouth curve against his as she stroked him again, harder this time through the fabric and kissed him just as hard.
His vision blurred, and he had to grab Jude as his knees gave way nearly tumbling both of them to the ground. This is it, he thought, I’ve died, she killed me with bloody blusher mushroom and this is the afterlife. He felt Jude wrap her legs around him, keeping him steady.
He tried to focus on her eyes, which were shining with mischief as she kept rubbing him through the thin fabric of his trousers. When her thumb started circling the top of his cock, he groaned and bit down on her bottom lip. He didn’t mean to, he was trying to bite his own. Jude didn’t break away, if anything her kisses got rougher, she squeezed his cock through the fabric, almost painfully and increased her pace. It felt amazing and he couldn’t stop himself moaning her name into her mouth. The friction of the fabric against his sensitive skin was almost too much to bear. Undo the buttons…please….
Jude’s other hand was still in his hair, tangled in his curls and as she tugged on them, he felt something shift on his head, followed by a clang. She’d knocked off his crown. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
His hands shifted, grabbing her waist as she drove him insane. His hips were bucking under her touch, these noises he’d never heard himself make were coming out of his mouth, his vision was blurring again, and her lips, oh her lips! Tasting of sweat and the iron tang of blood…
…everything went white…
…he slowly realised that he was still standing up, his forehead touching hers, the gaze of her eyes on his face, the absence of her hand, the warm wetness in his trousers. He flushed, but not with embarrassment. She’d made him come. Without even really touching him. He wasn’t surprised. She’d been doing it in his dreams for months. He could feel that the tuft of hair on the end of his tail was puffed out, but for once his tail was still. Are you as shocked as I am? he thought at it. She is going to be the death of me, I swear. Even the voice in the back of his head was silent.
He dragged in a shuddering breath, remembering the earthy taste of her lips. “Blusher Mushroom,” he breathed. He felt her head nod once against his.
The silence stretched between them. Cardan didn’t dare move.
“One more. There’s one more,” Jude’s voice was barely a whisper, lips barely moving. Cardan couldn’t take his eyes off them. A bead of blood, like the bead of liquid on a blusher mushroom, stood out on her bottom lip. He wanted to do nothing more than lean back down and kiss and lick it away, letting the salt and iron sting on his tongue and down his throat, but he willed himself to stillness.
He dragged his eyes up to meet hers, it was like looking into his own, her pupils so wide her eyes were black, with a fine ring of walnut brown circling them, in contrast to his own gold.
He could hear their laboured breathing, feel his heart pounding, but he felt detached from it all, as if he was watching from a distance. All he wanted to do was drown in the black pools of her eyes. Even the voice in the back of his head, mocking him for being over-dramatic, sounded muffled, like it was shouting through a closed door.
A million miles away, across the room, the fire crackled in the hearth and occasionally sighed as the wood burnt through and collapsed on itself. The candles flickered and guttered as wax dripped down their sides.
One more.
Where?
Then he remembered the rustle of skirts when his eyes were closed, the way she sat on the table, swinging her legs. His eyes widened. Sneaky Jude, sneaky sneaky Jude.
“Tick tock,” Jude whispered.
Reluctantly, Cardan loosed his grip on Jude’s waist and stepped backwards. He touched her shin, just below her knee, touching her thigh would probably be A Bad Idea. “Can I? Here?” he asked. She nodded her assent and as he knelt in front of her, she lifted her skirts just enough to expose her ankles. “How demure,” he murmured. He grabbed her ankle, pulling her leg out straight and pushing her skirt back to her knees. No telltale glimmers. He kissed up the side of her calf just to make sure. Her leg was trembling. He kissed her knee, noting the scars that crisscrossed it. No poison here.
He grabbed her other ankle, his eyes catching the tiniest black dot near the top of her calf. Pretending that he’d not seen it, he kissed his way up her leg again, watching goosebumps rise on her skin. One of her hands found his hair again, nails gently scratching his scalp as her fingers tangled in his curls. The other clutched her bunched up skirts.
He swirled his tongue over the black dot, it tasted brackish and slightly of rot. He knew this one too. He kissed the inside of her thigh, eliciting a gasp from her. He kissed a little higher up her thigh, and again, inching his way up. He paused, looked up at her through his lashes. “That’s the Devil’s Porridge,” he told her, trying to keep the triumph out of his voice. Mostly succeeding. She looked down at him, knelt between her legs and slowly nodded.
He kissed her again on the inside of her thigh, and again, and again. Wet kisses claiming each inch, savouring the warmth and voltage of her skin. Pushing her skirts up higher with each kiss.
When he reached the top of her thigh he stopped and looked up at her again. “May I?” Hoping she’d say yes. Hoping she’d say no.
Eyes wide, biting her lip, Jude nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
Gently, so very gently, Cardan brushed his fingers over the fabric of her underwear. He wanted nothing more than to rip and rend them, to tear them from her body. To push her back until she was lying on the desk and then…and then…
…no. No. I’m not doing that with her on my brother's desk.
Instead, he gently ran his fingers over the fabric again. Feeling the heat of her, the dampness of the material. He growled low in his throat before he could stop himself.
He pushed the material aside, holding it out of his way. He licked right up, in one smooth stroke to her clit, circling it. Above him, Jude tried to smother a moan. The hand in his hair clenching.
The taste of her was exquisite. He kissed and sucked on her clit, dragging noises out of both of them. I could do this forever. Let me do this to you forever. Jude was clutching his hair so hard that it hurt, nails digging into his scalp. He didn’t care. The pain meant this was real, this wasn’t a dream. He dipped his tongue inside her, causing her hips to jerk, pushing her body into his face, making him growl again.
His tail was beating the fabric of his trousers, it was flicking back and forth so fast.
The salt of her made his lips and tongue tingle, a not-so-gentle burn, all he wanted to do was taste it all. He kissed and licked and bit, until she was writhing against him, until he was murmuring her name over and over, until she whispered his back between breathy, quiet moans, until she stiffened and she orgasmed, a string of curses that would make a sailor blush leaving her lips.
Unable to stop himself from grinning, he slowly trailed wet kisses, drew lazy whorls on her lips and nipped a couple of spots before turning his head and kissing her inner thigh. Finally able to push his smile off his face, he stood, palms flat on the table, on either side of Jude’s body and leant forward.
“Eight,” he said, slowly licking his lips. “Jude Duarte.” No smile this time, holding Jude’s gaze. Jude was the first to break, her gaze shifting to look over his shoulder.
“It appears you were paying attention during your lessons,” Jude said quietly, still not meeting his eyes.
“I have a very compelling teacher,” he replied, a smile curling a corner of his mouth. A matching smile briefly crossed her face and her eyes met his again.
“I admit, I was surprised that you got all seven right.”
“Eight,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I got eight right.”
They stared at each other for a few moments more before Jude rolled her eyes and pushed him in the chest, just hard enough to make him stagger back a step or two, his heel catching one of the legs of the chair, tripping him into it.
She hopped down off the table, bending to pick up the forgotten crown from the floor and giving Cardan an obscene view down the front of her dress. She dropped the crown and one of the Bomb’s vials in his lap, a wicked smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
“Next time, you can lick them off the Roach,” she said, laughing at the horrified look on face. “Enjoy your delightful bottle of wine,” she added as she turned and walked out the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He raked his hand through his hair, barely believing what had happened, still not entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream.
Jude Duarte. Maybe my deadliest poison. But I’d drink her up every day, consequences be damned.
Letting out a low laugh, he ran his fingers through his hair once more before settling the crown back on his head. He pushed himself out the chair and walked around the study, blowing out the candles, one by one, before heading out of the door, leaving it ajar and heading back to his rooms and that cut-glass flagon of wine.