are supposed to be. Now, turn that shit off because you’re killing my fucking eyes.”
“Sorry,” I said, closing my eyes until he chuckled. Opening them, I smirked, happy to have finally stopped glowing. “Take me to him, and I’ll hear him out.”
“He’s in the throne room, poring over maps with his counsel.”
Chapter Eight
Ryder watched me approach with Zahruk by my side as we entered the throne room. His dark head lifted from the map on the large wooden table. Slowly moving across the room, I noted him, taking in the tight jeans that hugged my legs and the thigh-high boots. My heels clicking against the smooth, marble floor was the only sound in the entire room, even though it was filled with men planning for war.
“Decided to apologize?” I asked, hitching one brow before crossing my arms, waiting for him to do just that. He shook his dark head, letting power slither over my flesh while he remained cold and distant. Golden eyes lifted, locking with mine in a silent battle.
“I have nothing to apologize for, Synthia,” he muttered, studying my narrowed gaze. “You’ve wasted enough time hunting the Stag. It’s time you helped around here and stopped wasting your fucking time pouting about stupid shit.” I studied the faces around the table who observed me carefully, while those who knew me refused to meet my confused stare.
My spine stiffened as I pondered his words, wondering what I’d failed to do for the prick. I’d held court, ate nasty food with creatures that made my skin crawl while somehow keeping a smile plastered onto my face during the entire process. Ciara had helped order food, sending it out to the fae who needed it, and still storing a more substantial portion in the cellars that lined the dungeons in case we endured a siege.
I’d spent entire days preparing the castle in the event it was attacked and making sure that, if the villages of the horde had to evacuate, they could find shelter here with us. I’d worked endlessly, and in my spare time, which wasn’t much, I’d hunted the Stag.
Today had been the only day I’d gone out early, and I’d checked my schedule, which was filled with mundane tasks anyone could have done. I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly through my mouth while noting the heads of the horde clans were here today, and while I wanted to slap the smug look off Ryder’s face, I wouldn’t.
“What do you need, My King?” I asked in a saccharine sweet tone. The words dripped over honey, so no one heard the barb buried within them.
“For you to do your fucking job as queen, and tend to your fucking people,” he snorted. “Stop acting like a child for a little while and realize there’s a lot more at stake here than your wounded fucking pride.” Still glaring at me, Ryder pointed to the room next door. “There is an entire room of creatures waiting to be heard. I can’t run battle strategies and listen to the grievances of our people. Go change your clothes into something that isn’t so fucking human, Synthia. Act like you’re the Queen of the Horde for once,” Ryder hissed, raking his angry glare slowly down my body.
“As you wish,” I hissed back, holding his angry stare until he swallowed hard. “I’ll change immediately and do my duties.” It felt like he’d backhanded me with his words, and swallowing my reply burned my throat as I took it without argument.
Turning on my heel, I left the room in long, angry strides that took me as far away from him and the heads of the horde houses as quickly as possible before I shoved my four-inch heels down his throat. Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what I expected. Maybe I’d asked for it by blurting out what I had upon entry before I’d noted who was around the table. But between learning to handle the never-ending pain that rushed through me in waves and the war breathing down my neck, I didn’t think much before I acted. I was scared and hurting, and it wasn’t a good combination.