By the flickering light of burning wicks, I settled in with my meager meal of salted and dried meat, some cheese, berries, and bread, jotting notes in you so I may remember all the encounters and experiences I’d relished thus far on my sojourn.

  My eyes growing heavy, I rested my head on my folded arms and dozed, dreaming of the dashing, brawny, and ridiculously handsome friends I dallied with two nights back—they were so much fun. But I’ve already told you about them in a previous entry. Let me get back to my night in the cabin.

  I knew I hadn’t been resting long, but sounds outside the door suddenly stirred me awake. I didn’t know if it was an animal—it was hunting season, and I was sure the wildlife were being driven from their homes in fear for sport—or if it was something or someone else—I was, after all, squatting in someone’s residence, even if it appeared to be a temporary abode.

  Pulling the dagger from my boot, I remained seated, hiding the blade in the folds of my cloak and waiting to see what might happen. You may wonder if I was frightened, but given how long I have lived, I find that not much scares me. Concerns me? Absolutely. And so I was, concerned how things might play out.

  When I heard and saw the knob on the door turn, I knew my supposition of it being an animal was incorrect. I was definitely about to be confronted by someone on two legs. I only hoped they were benevolent.

  As the wooden slab swung in, the light of the full moon outside haloed and silhouetted a tall and broad form. From what I could see in the shadows, they were otherwise occupied with retrieving something from a bag slung across their chest and hadn’t yet realized they weren’t alone. I remained silent and still, simply observing as the figure took two steps through the doorway, the light of the candles finally reaching the fine features of his handsome face.

  The candlelight must have registered then, for he looked up, an expression of shock and alert rising. He dropped the bundle he had retrieved from his pack and immediately drew his sword from its scabbard. When he did, the pommel and blade glinted in the fire’s light, and I saw the design, the craftsmanship that had been captured in countless artistic renderings and on the pages of books spread across the kingdom. I was sitting in front of none other than Elian Da’Neer, current King of Atlantia.

  Even in the low light of the room, his black hair glinted blue, and despite the look on his gorgeous face—now shifting a bit to anger—his straight nose, high cheekbones, and proud jaw that appeared carved from granite lit something within me.

  He still had yet to speak, so I gently and quietly laid my blade on the table and stood slowly, raising my hands in front of me, palms out in a placating gesture.

  I bowed my head and addressed him, calling him Your Majesty. That seemed to disarm him a bit, and I saw his rigid stance in his long, lean, and toned body relax a fraction. I went on to say that I meant no harm or disrespect and that I was merely a weary traveler looking for a place to rest for the night. I added that I had every intention of compensating whoever owned the cabin for my time spent. I pointed to the bag of coins I’d left on the mantel.

  The King sheathed his sword and took a few more steps into the room, shutting the door behind him and closing out the chill from the autumn night beyond. While that should have put me at ease, the room seemed somehow smaller with the two of us now closed within it. He had a strange pull about him that drew you in and held you captive, though most enjoyably. I swallowed hard and met his golden-amber gaze.

  He asked me my name, and I replied, putting as much respect into my tone as I could muster. Surprisingly, what I saw cross his features next wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t confusion or uncertainty, it was recognition. He asked if I was the Seer, one of the newly created Council Elders, and I confirmed. That seemed to disarm him entirely for some reason. He picked up what he’d dropped earlier, set his pack aside and pulled out the chair opposite me, settling into it with a weary sigh and gesturing for me to sit across from him in the spot I’d vacated earlier.

  He joked and asked if I planned to use the blade on the table, gracing me with a devastating smile that had my insides quivering as he flashed a set of dimples that made my heart skip a beat. He was clearly a descendant of the Court of Vathi with features so fine. I returned his grin and dropped the dagger into the bag I had hung over the back of the chair.

  I asked the King if he wanted some wine. When he agreed gratefully, I pulled out my skin and extra cup and poured him a generous helping, topping off my serving, as well.

  He asked what I was doing in his hunting cabin. So, I told him about my wandering soul and thirst for adventure and how I regularly used out-of-the-way shelters to rest during my journeys, making sure to compensate my unknowing hosts generously.

  As the night wore on, and the wine continued to flow, Elian became more comfortable—he even told his guards to set up camp farther into the forest. I felt myself relaxing, as well. I had seen him, of course, knew of his legacy, how he’d summoned a god and singlehandedly smoothed things over between the wolven and the Atlantians after the war. Still, I’d never had the pleasure of being in his company except from a distance and for a very short time.

  As is my way, even without libations, my comments turned flirty, and my innocent touches became more numerous and intentional. I could tell that Elian was not unaffected. I caught him swallowing thickly on more than one occasion, his Adam’s apple bobbing and casting shadows on his graceful neck.

  With the wine working its way through my insides and the candle flames and body heat warming my skin, I found myself shedding layers of clothing as the night progressed. He had done the same, simply making himself more comfortable, and I suddenly realized how comfortable we were becoming.

  It is well known throughout the kingdom that the King and Queen have an open marriage. They have children, of course, and I truly believe they love each other in their way, but it’s no secret that the Queen prefers women and has no issues with the King taking lovers.

  With that knowledge firmly affixed to the forefront of my mind, I bolstered my courage and stood, approaching Elian where he sat slumped in his chair, a bit away from the table, legs spread in ease. I situated myself between his thighs and looked down at him, attempting to convey with a look alone what I desired, testing the temperature of the waters and hoping he’d take the plunge with me. He stared up at me earnestly, his gorgeous, glittering eyes going a bit heavy-lidded, his chest rising just a bit faster with his breaths.

  I slowly, oh, so slowly, reached out a hand, moving toward his face in increments, waiting to see if he’d stop me. Instead, he grabbed my fingers and put my palm flat against his cheek, turning into it and kissing the inside of my wrist. My belly fluttered, and heat suffused me at the touch of those soft, pillowy lips to the sensitive flesh there.

  He breathed in deeply, and I knew he could scent my arousal. I wasn’t the least bit ashamed. Quite the contrary. I hiked up my skirts with my free hand and settled myself firmly on his thigh, letting him feel what the night had done to me, the heat and dampness that had settled at my core.

  He groaned when I rocked myself on his leg and let my head drop back in bliss, our still-linked hands falling to the base of my neck right above the ruffled bodice of my gown.

  Before I could even take a breath, he had freed my breasts from the confines of their trappings, the air caressing my nipples and making them bead. It wasn’t exactly comfortable seeing as I was still clothed, but all thoughts of discomfort fled when he lapped at first one rosy bud and then the other, massaging one with a thumb as he took the other into the wet, hot cavern of his mouth. He licked and laved, making me nearly pant with want.

  I ran a hand up his free thigh, twisting my wrist so I could palm the steely length of him where it struggled to be free of its soft leather cage. Elian groaned again and renewed his fervor at my chest when I applied just a bit of pressure and squeezed, dipping an index finger behind the flap of his breeches to gently scrape along his length with a blunt nail. That made him hiss and raise his head to look at me.

  The look in his eyes was nearly indescribable. The closest I can come is to say he looked as if he were starving.

  ON BEHALF OF BLUE BOX PRESS,

  Liz Berry and Jillian Stein would like to thank ~

  Steve Berry

  Benjamin Stein

  Kim Guidroz

  Chelle Olson

  Hang Le

  Chris Graham

  Tanaka Kangara

  Jessica Saunders

  Malissa Coy

  Jen Fisher

  Stacey Tardif

  Suzy Baldwin

  Grace Wenk

  Laura Helseth

  Jessica Mobbs

  Vonetta Young

  Dylan Stockton

  Peggy Boulos Smith

  Richard Blake

  and Simon Lipskar

 

 

  Jennifer L. Armentrout, A Crown of Ruin: A Blood and Ash Special Edition Novella

 

 

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