Teaching the King (Witchling Academy Book 1) Page 8

  The main hall was already filled to bursting with tables of food and drink. How the Fae managed to produce food so quickly taxed my brain, but no one else seemed to be surprised that a feast fit for a medieval victory banquet had been produced out of thin air. Tables were overflowing, as if the king’s entire staff had been working for weeks, and Aiden didn’t so much as glance to either side as he ushered me to a raised dais, where I could face the scrutiny of the three dozen or so family members and the nearly twenty-strong legion of warriors who filled the tables farthest away from the king, lining the walls.

  Apparently, not much happened in the realm of the Fae, because their fascination with me didn’t abate during the first course of fruits, cheese, and odd little vegetables that I couldn’t quite identify, nor in the second where we were served some sort of fish—or at least I was. I couldn’t pay attention to anything but what was laid right in front of me, and I ate out of nerves more than anything else, aware that this food could be drugged and no longer caring all that much about that possibility. This was my new reality, and I had to work through it.

  The king had positioned me three places down on the curved half circle of the high table, which surprised me until I realized it allowed him to keep me constantly in his peripheral vision, no matter where else his attention was focused. A small part of me had feared he’d want to feed me or something ridiculous like that, but in some ways, his constant scrutiny was worse. It seemed like he paid attention to every choice I made, from eating too many blueberries, or what I hoped were blueberries, to steering away from the sharper forms of cheese.

  At least at this distance, I didn’t have to physically touch him. I was rocking a perfectly sensible fear and loathing of the guy, yet I still wanted to melt into a puddle of goo every time our hands connected. I knew I was overwrought—and definitely over-stimulated—but it still sucked.

  Fortunately, none of the Fae talked to me. They conversed with each other in their own language, which I didn’t understand yet and didn’t care to learn this first night. There was a comforting isolation in my ignorance, and I embraced it with everything I had. The Fae language was beautiful, without question, but also startling, its lyrical progressions interrupted by sharp and pointy intonations as jagged as the turrets in the castle itself. These were beautiful people but also a race of warriors, I knew. Brutal killers, if the situation demanded.

  How had the Hogan witches ever got tangled up with this group? What could the Fae have promised us that would have been worth our generations-long indentured servitude?

  “Is there something else you would prefer?”

  The question was soft, almost hesitant, and I looked up to see a Laram female standing at my side, her silver eyes gleaming with concern. I blinked from her down to my plate and saw I had barely eaten a quarter of the food, apart from the blueberries. I felt Aiden’s gaze on me, and I offered her a smile.

  “Oh, no, but I appreciate it,” I said. “It’s all a little overwhelming. The food is delicious, and you’re very kind to ask.”

  She nodded, but made no other reaction as she withdrew. I didn’t get the sense that the lesser Fae were treated poorly by the nobles here, which honestly, was too bad. I suspected I wouldn’t find much sympathy for my plight in this house, not even from the servants. There was nothing more reassuring to someone being oppressed than knowing they were less oppressed than some other group. Then again, maybe I was the only one in this hall actually oppressed. Maybe these Fae spared no thought for me at all.

  As soon as I thought that, though, I rejected the idea. If they weren’t curious about me, they wouldn’t be trying to crawl inside my brain. I took a certain measure of satisfaction at knowing they weren’t successful. My thoughts were my own—even Aiden couldn’t pierce them, though I felt the pressure of his attempt most of all. Ass.

  I’d never thought the Hogan family wards against mind reading had been all that great, but once again, I was happy to learn I was wrong. How had we been this powerful without realizing it? Was it simply a function of being a witch in a foreign realm? Somehow just stepping on the open grass had allowed me to create a fantasy school out of nowhere, as well as a reproduction of my great-grandmother’s beautiful home from upstate Vermont. Had that home originally been here? Was that how my great-grandmother had known to build it?

  Too many questions, only one of which needed to be answered immediately: What exactly was going to happen after dinner?

  It was a question I was doomed to wait hours to have answered. After the main course, or what I thought was the main course, another course was served—nuts and sweet confections. Not many of them, but the few that I sampled made me think of rivers of chocolate and caramel, swirled in with coconut cream. These items might well be drugged, because they immediately dropped me into a sugar coma, only partially blunted by the dark, almost bitter coffee-esque drink the Fae served with it. It was by far the best thing about the night.

  There was no music or dancing after the meal, at least. The place just started emptying, with the lesser tables going first while the higher tables continued their conversation. Apparently, these people never shut up, and I smiled a little, grateful for the luxury of my own private thoughts.

  Even as I formed that thought, a soft, derisive laugh sounded from the head of the table, three people up. I kept my eyes on the plate as my cheeks flushed. Had Aiden broken through so quickly, now able to read my mind? My abilities had increased a hundredfold it seemed in this land. Could his have as well?

  I didn’t know and I didn’t want to ask him, so I turned my focus to the language flowing around me, letting it fill my ears, my thoughts. Was that displeasure that tingled at the edge of my senses? If so, good. If I couldn’t keep Aiden out of my brain by force, I would simply bore the Fae king to death.

  At length it was our turn to leave, and Aiden moved quickly to my side, making no bones of the fact that he was going to be my escort to wherever we were headed next. His cousin Lena beamed at me with unconcern, while Cyril muttered something to himself that I’m sure had nothing to do with me. Alaric, the Fae so eager to start his instruction, had already fled the party. Maybe he was the smartest one among us.

  Within a few short minutes, there remained only three people in the feasting room. Me, the High King, and his hard-bitten second-in-command. Niall eyed me with stoic indifference, his hair standing on end where the ridge of the helmet I suspected he usually wore had rumpled it. Aiden gave him a final order, and Niall nodded, then stood back as Aiden turned and gestured me ahead. The gesture was accompanied by a short declarative sound, most likely the Fae equivalent of “go.”

  Irritation blossomed within me. I didn’t know if anyone was watching from secret corners or hidden spaces, but if they were, Aiden definitely was driving home the idea that I was his slave. I didn’t know how or when, but he was going to pay for that.

  Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to waste my energy fighting it, fighting him. Not tonight. That was a hopeless gambit. So, dutifully, I headed out of the grand chamber, stiffening only slightly as Aiden moved behind me and murmured another word while touching my left arm. The Fae equivalent of left, I assumed, and I turned again.

  It took us only a few minutes to reach a section of the castle fronted by a grand staircase, with two guards flanking the bottom step. A second pair peered down at us from the first landing, and I suspected there would be more to follow. Here Aiden took my arm, and I steeled myself at the rush of heat and need that his touch incited in me. I didn’t think he would take advantage of me, but I didn’t like it anyway.

  “You’ll understand our language completely once Cyril finishes your rituals tomorrow,” Aiden murmured as we mounted the steps, distracting me from my own embarrassment. “Your magic is strong. None of the others could penetrate your mind.”

  “Yeah, well,” I offered grudgingly. “You could.”

  “Less than you think. I have a sense of what you were thinking, but not specific words or clear
ly framed thoughts. As I said, your magic is strong.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not—the Fae were nothing if not masters of manipulation. But I took some comfort in the idea, which clearly he intended, and I managed to make it up the stairs and down a sweeping hallway without tripping over my own feet. Bonus.

  After passing easily a dozen guards, including four outside the final doorway, we entered another chamber, alone. I grimaced, forcing myself not to pat my jeans pocket to make sure my knife was still there—not that it’d do me much good. These were Aiden’s private rooms, they had to be: a sumptuous sitting room with a fireplace along one wall, chairs arranged around it. A large desk sat next to a heavily draped window, and an imposing door stood open across the floor, leading to a shadowy alcove. I stopped short, fear and something far less reasonable making my heart pound.

  I steeled myself and lifted my chin, turning to meet Aiden’s neutral gaze. I could do this, dammit. I just needed to know one thing.

  “How much is this going to hurt me?”

  14

  Aiden

  It was only my warrior training that kept me moving smoothly across the room without faltering. I could barely see from the desire that had begun raging through me the moment the door closed behind us, could hardly breathe with how much Belle’s scent filled my nose, my mouth. I wanted her so badly that a dark red curtain had fallen in front of my eyes, my hands opening and closing reflexively, desperate to pull her to me.

  Her words punctured that haze, but not completely. I moved toward the fire, already stoked high, and threw another log on it. Once side of me argued that Belle didn’t understand that she was more than my witch. The other side knew it didn’t matter if she understood or not, she was mine.

  I knew it the first time she spoke, her words enough to turn the tide at the battlefront when she was a realm away. I knew it when I’d seen her masquerading as an old woman, as heart-wrenchingly beautiful with the lace of age draped over her as she was in her youthful state. I knew it when she’d set foot in my own realm, her power blossoming like an unfurling flower, acts of will creating buildings with barely a thought. And I knew it when she’d stubbornly set her mind against my touch, even as her body quivered with heat and expectation every time I drifted near her.

  She was mine—my witch, my teacher, and possibly something more than that. The pull she had on me was too strong to ignore. The ancient bonding drive of the Fae was an archaic instinct we’d long since dispensed with, particularly in the realm of the high Fae, but it clearly hadn’t disappeared altogether. And I felt something profoundly powerful drawing me to Belle…even though she didn’t feel it for me. Yet.

  That fact remained, however…she didn’t feel it for me. And so a steadying voice of reason whispered more insistently within me, drowning out my incoherent need. If she’s truly yours, then you’ll find your path together. Why rush and take that which might easily be given in time?

  I blew out a long, steadying breath. I liked that idea. A lot.

  I turned back to Belle in time to see a look of momentary relief flash away from her expression. She couldn’t read my mind, not completely, but the two of us appeared to be highly attuned to the other, fully aware of the emotions and desires that the other couldn’t quite hide. What she saw in my face made her step back a half step before she steadied herself, her chin firming. She was no fool. She wasn’t about to die tonight. By her own admission, she merely wanted to limit the damage.

  I would be doing some damage, all right. Only not the kind she expected.

  “You can feel this between us?” I asked, stopping short to hook my thumbs in my belt. I wouldn’t rush her. I didn’t need to. “You can sense the heat? The need?”

  “I can feel there’s strong magic in you,” she replied evenly. “I can feel an echo of that magic, that power, in me. But the relationship between us was codified hundreds of years ago. What we’re feeling is most likely due to ancient spells or enchantments put in place by our ancestors. You can’t tell whether it’s how you truly feel.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” It wasn’t that her reasoning was false, it was that it was pointless. I took a step toward her, and everything in the room brightened. The fire sparked in its hearth, while the sconces in the wall flickered and danced as I drew closer to her. “What I feel for you and what you feel for me isn’t the result of any spell. I think it’s far more basic than that. But if it’s a spell, then you are a witch. You can break it, right? If there’s truly something to be broken?”

  She scowled, but didn’t shrink away from me. At this distance, a mere four feet, I could see the perspiration on her brow, the faint bruising of her lip where she’d bitten it. Her gray eyes were now smoky with desire. I wasn’t imagining that.

  “Please, don’t do this,” she murmured. Her lips parted, trembling softly, even as her fists clenched.

  “I won’t do anything to hurt you.” I stepped the final few feet to stand in front of her. This close, our size difference was more pronounced, and she tilted her head back to meet my gaze, though I could tell it cost her. This close, there was no denying the heat that wrapped around us in a web of need, want, and possibility. I could hear her heart hammering and felt the hard, echoing twitch in my own body.

  But I could wait. I could stay the course. I could make her want me more than I wanted her.

  “I’ll ask only one thing of you, every night and every morning from this point forward,” I told her. “And that is your kiss. You’re the witch of the High King, and you must teach me magic. To do that, we must be bonded physically.”

  She gaped at me, clearly stunned. “We what?” she demanded, a little too breathlessly. “That’s part of the contract?”

  I didn’t hesitate. If it wasn’t part of the contract, it damned well should be. But I lifted my hand to her face, barely controlling myself as my fingers grazed her cheek. Need roared through me, and I nearly dropped her to the floor right there. Instead, I held her gaze, shoving my desire back, focusing only on her.

  “Will you kiss me, Belle?” I asked. It was only the second time I’d used her name since I’d first crossed her threshold, and her cheeks flushed with awareness. There was no mistaking her soft response.

  “Yes,” she breathed. Her gaze had dropped to my lips, and I could no longer see her eyes. I wanted to take her then, hard and sure, but I held myself in check for a moment longer, willing to twist her up a fraction more.

  It took her only a moment to realize I wasn’t going to make the first move, and she shifted her gaze to my face again. As if wanting to act before she could lose her nerve, she lifted her hands, flattening her palms against my chest. I couldn’t help the shudder, but I didn’t shift forward until she clutched the thick material of my tunic in her trembling fingers and pulled it down. Urging me toward her. Barely able to breathe, I leaned into her and finally brushed her lips with mine.

  Desire raged through me, the taste of her so sweet that I barely restrained myself from swallowing it in one huge gulp. She groaned and lifted one hand higher, curling it around the back of my neck as she pulled me more firmly to her, deepening the kiss.

  My heart thundered as if I were preparing for battle. I felt Belle’s answering gasp, the wave of heat skittering along her skin. In that moment, we were one racing heart, one wordless need. My legs braced to fight whatever battle I would give them, desperate to engage, but I didn’t collapse over Belle, didn’t drive her to the nearest cushion. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t.

  But by the Light, I wanted to.

  She also didn’t stop, not at first, but her mouth roamed over mine, her tongue pressing against my lips. When I opened my mouth, she explored eagerly, heatedly, shifting her slender body up against me, as if she craved something only I could give her.

  Whether she believed it yet or not, she was right. I pressed back with equal strength, but let her guide the movement, reveling in the hiss of pleasure as my own tongue tangled wit
h hers, inviting deeper pleasure. A soft, throaty moan sounded around us, too delicate by far to be mine. It rang in my ears with a sense of truth.

  Belle must have heard it as well, recognizing it for what it was, because she broke away with a gasp, her cheeks flame red as she stumbled back, barely catching herself before I gave myself away by trying to reach for her again.

  But I kept my arms by my side, my fists clenched. I had taken my kiss, and it had cost Belle far more than she’d intended to give. As frustrated as I was, it was worth it to see the blooming awareness in her face. I didn’t think I was the first male she’d ever kissed, of course…but I definitely was the first she’d kissed so well.

  I cocked a lazy brow. “That’s it?” I asked, and her cheeks flared crimson.

  “Of course that’s it,” she gasped, as if expecting a fight. I merely lifted my hands and gave her a slow smile. “Then that’s it.”

  I briefly turned back to the fire, striding over to reseat an awkwardly shifted log, an affliction that affected more than the fireplace, as it turned out. But by the time I turned back to face Belle, she hadn’t recovered her composure so well. She yanked her hands down from her still-burning cheeks, then finally seemed to shake off the residual magic that spun around her. Her reaction wasn’t entirely her fault, and she knew it, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier for her.

  “Okay,” she finally said, clearing her throat. “So that’s it. What happens tomorrow, then?”