The Queen's Line (Inheritance of Hunger #1) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,92

much force, but there was barely a snag in her loose shirt.

"Point," I said, shrugging at her eyes.

"Out of three," she said immediately, gaze narrowing.

Well, this was a different kind of seduction than I might've expected, but I liked it better, my blood hammering through my veins as we moved back into position.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lips pursed in a pout of frustration that I was sure she would've pressed to a flat line if she'd realized it was there.

"Begin."

She learned quickly, charging and lacking any hesitation, taking an opening on my right shoulder that most of my schoolmates had never bothered learning. The tip of her blade bit into the skin of my arm, but it just raised my excitement, the little pinprick she'd promised to deliver.

"Point," she said, arching an eyebrow.

She blinked at my answering smile and backed away, our steps a reflection of one another. "At the ready," she murmured, sinking into her knees.

Now was the moment, fuck the third point. I'd have a victory either way.

"Begin," I said, and we both made quick steps to center.

I held my blade wide, dodging out of regulation as she aimed for me. I appeared in front of her before she knew I was coming. Her breath caught as I wrapped an arm around her back and hauled her roughly against my chest, her head rearing back to look up at me.

"I wonder why your Chosen didn't stay. If sword-fighting doesn't satisfy you, I can promise a better way to make your heart race…" I trailed off as I watched her, felt her stiffen in my arms, watched her eyes widen, pupils contracting as she tried to lean away.

Fear. Just for a moment.

Perhaps I knew three kinds of women because this was a familiar sight too. My mother had startled and cowered this way when she found herself abandoned in our cottage, alone with a man and only me as a little boy to bear witness. I was ready to pull away, but Bryony was quicker, and I stilled as a long blade slid neatly up through the space between us, the sharp tip kissing the underside of my throat.

"Apolo—"

"Are you my Chosen, Daniel Farraque?" Princess Bryony asked, eyes narrowing to slits.

"No, Your Highness," I said, quick to drop my hands to my side, all the purr I'd tried to gather in my voice fading away to flat.

Bryony took a small fraction of the offered space, the sabre tip digging just enough for me to feel the heat of pain. "Have I requested your attention in some way?"

"No, Your Highness."

"If you touch me again without my express demand, I will cut your hands off and courier them myself to Lord Roderick, do you understand?"

I understood, but my cock didn't because it jumped with a horribly timed interest and nudged against the princess's waist.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Leave the room," Bryony said, almost a growl, as she stepped back from me.

I made my exit quickly, and with a strange thrill coursing through my veins that had nothing to do with my hands still being attached to my arms.

The door was cracked open when I reached it, and the guard outside was smirking.

I'd been to Rumsbrooke often enough, although it wasn't a place one generally looked forward to visiting. The people were unfriendly and guarded, the streets were filthy, the buildings were decrepit, and I always left feeling as though I was covered in a thin but invisible layer of grime.

It'd been months since my last visit, and I took a deep breath of the moderately fresh air before approaching the gate. Except the city inside wasn't quite what I expected. It was still dirty, still close, still crowded, but the people seemed busy now and…

"Oh, excuse me, sir," one young girl cried before dashing through the street, grinning and giggling as she reached her friends on the other side. And no one cursed after her.

Not everyone was in high spirits, but tempers seemed a little brighter than usual, and there wasn't half the trash and refuse lying about that there usually seemed to be. I nudged my horse forward, waiting for the city I remembered and not quite finding it. I glanced up at the sky and decided to blame the sun being out, which it almost never seemed to be in Rumsbrooke. Maybe I had only ever been here during bad weather.

I reached the Yawning Pig and guided my horse to a stand, finding a small boy sitting under an