King of Pain - Tasha Black Page 0,10

overlooked a small clearing, surrounded on three sides by trees. Furs covered the single bed and a bird feeder hung from the window.

Cullen snatched a small stuffed deer from the bedding.

“And that’s Bron,” he said, putting the toy in his cloak. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

“What about your room?” she asked.

“What about it?” he asked. “I don’t need anything of my own.”

“I’d like to see it,” she said.

He shrugged and they headed back to the hallway, where Cullen opened a fourth door.

This one had a view over a hedge maze. The single bed was made neatly. The shelves held a few books and a small carving of a fox. There were no toys or playthings.

A model of the planets hovered over the perfectly organized desk. When Jessica looked closer, she could see that the planets were rotating so slowly it was almost imperceptible.

“Let’s go,” Cullen said from the doorway.

She took one more glance around the room.

It was hard to know him from this tidy space. It felt like an adult had lived here, not a child.

“Time is short,” he said impatiently.

“Sorry,” she said.

She kept forgetting that they were on a timeline. Maybe this was why he was being so abrupt and unkind.

They dashed down the stairs and she followed him through the big doors out to the lawn.

Fuddleman was already walking up with Nyx, whose coat shone like ice in the morning sun.

“Perfect timing, Your Majesty,” Fuddleman said in a pleased way. “He’s fed and groomed and feeling himself now, I reckon.”

“Good, good,” Cullen said impatiently.

“I hope we’ll see more of you around here, Your Majesty,” Fuddleman said hopefully.

Cullen reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, pressing it into Fuddleman’s palm.

Jessica could see the pain in the little man’s eyes. He had not wanted money. He wanted his master’s attention, even for a moment.

She felt that tickle in her mind again.

“Thank you so much for your help,” she said warmly. “You have been so kind.”

Fuddleman turned to her with a big smile. “It’s my pleasure, my lady. Safe travels.”

Cullen lifted her onto the horse without ceremony and a moment later they were galloping along the path, Nyx’s hooves beating a swift tattoo away from his family home.

8

Jessica

Jessica closed her eyes as Nyx carried them away, the rumble of his hoofbeats like the roll of distant thunder.

She rode in silence, trying to access the memory that had threatened to surface back in the castle, when Cullen was being unkind to his nanny. She tried to let go of the present, and the feel of his strong arms around her.

She replayed his words in her head.

We really don’t have time.

Suddenly, her memory showed her a place.

Jessica is in a bright office building with glassy windows revealing the Philadelphia skyline. She sits on a white leather sofa, waiting to talk with Cullen about…

Something important.

But what?

She notices the angle of the morning sun and the way the buttery leather sticks to the backs of her thighs.

She is wearing a denim mini-skirt and a peasant blouse, Cullen’s favorite. But she feels out of place in this building filled with people in suits.

A young man in a bright blue tie behind a two-person desk presses an intercom button.

“Yeah?” Cullen’s voice on the other side is brusque.

“M-Mr. Ward, I just wanted to know—”

“I really don’t have time for this, Tim,” Cullen roars and hangs up. “Figure it out.”

“—what you want in your coffee,” the kid finishes quietly to himself.

The woman sitting at the other end of the desk laughs.

“He likes it black, new guy. Like his soul.”

“Why is he so mean?” the young man asks.

“Because he can be,” the woman replies with a wry grin.

Jessica peels herself off the sofa and heads for the elevator.

“Wait,” the woman calls after her. “The boss wants to see you.”

Jessica breaks into a run, smashing the elevator buttons without really looking at them.

Her eyes brim with tears.

She has made a decision…

“Here we go,” Cullen said in a weary voice, bringing her back to the present.

Jessica opened her eyes, wishing she could remember what she had been meaning to talk to Cullen about in her memory.

They had reached a bridge. Large planks of splintery wood stretched between stone monuments on opposite sides of a swiftly moving river.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked. “Are you not sure it’s strong enough?”

“No,” he chuckled. “There’s a troll here who guards the bridge.”

“Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “That sounds unpleasant. Do we really need to use this bridge? Can’t we just find another