The Forsaken King - Page 7

“That’s not what I mean, Ivory.”

“Then what do you mean?”

With his arms by his sides, he stepped closer. “Becoming a member of the Royal Guard has been a dream for my family. My father is proud, and my mother uses my earnings to support the household.”

My father and his associates never ventured into the town to converse with the civilians he ruled over, and he didn’t spend more than a few minutes talking with the guards who would die in his stead. But I did, and it made me realize how much I had. I didn’t need more in life because I already had everything. Quinn, along with everyone else, wasn’t blessed with the same luxury. I hadn’t even earned it. I was just born into it. “You needn’t say more. I understand.”

“No, you don’t understand.” His dark eyes became fixated on my face. “I want more…with you.”

I could feel the features slip on my face, slowly sink down.

“The second I set eyes on you, I knew you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And being with you…has been an honor. I don’t want to sneak around in the dark. I don’t want to be clandestine lovers. I want us…to be together.”

The disappointment of his words was a punch to the gut. “Quinn, I made it very clear what this was—”

“I know you did. But things have changed. Have they not changed for you?”

I wouldn’t mince words. I wouldn’t let him down easy. I needed him to understand—for his own sake. “No.”

He winced.

“It’s just physical.”

“But you gave yourself to me—”

“I’ve given myself to men before you, and I will do so after you. I’m sorry that you feel this way, but trust me, I’m not worth it. Your family should be proud of you because you’re a great man, and someday, you’ll meet a beautiful girl who thinks the same. I’m not that girl. I’m not worthy of your heart.”

His eyes dropped.

“This is over, Quinn. You should go.”

He remained rigid, trying to recover from the way I’d ripped him apart.

“I’m sorry.”

A small smile moved on to his lips before he raised his head. “Now I wish I hadn’t said anything.”

“I’m glad that you did.”

“I’m not.” The smile remained, fused with sadness. “Because I don’t want this to end.”

My hands cupped his cheeks, and I brought our foreheads together. “When you’re old and sitting by the fire, you’ll look back on this and grin to yourself. You bedded the duke’s daughter—and it was a lot of fun.”

Now his smile was genuine.

“Your son will ask what’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done, and you’ll have a great story to share.”

Now he chuckled.

I gave him a final kiss before I let him go. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

I cracked the door open and peered into the hallway. The sconces on the wall cast a dim light across the floor, and I listened for the sounds of heavy footsteps of a pacing guard. It was quiet. “Coast is clear…”

Quinn pulled his helmet on his head and walked out with me. We made it to the edge of my hallway so he could turn down a different hallway, and that was when we said goodbye. He gave a short nod, the sadness in his eyes, and turned to leave.

That was it. It was done.

I wasn’t sad that it was over, but sad that I’d compromised his heart.

I turned around to return to my room.

But now, the hallway was blocked.

By an enormous man in full armor, two short blades at his hips, and with eyes that cut to the bone.

Blue eyes.

I didn’t have my sword or my armor, and there was no escape in the narrow hallway. I could scream, but the second I opened my mouth, he would strike me down. His enormous hand could grip me by the throat and extinguish my life with a simple squeeze that would break all my vertebrae.

I didn’t scare easily.

But I was fucking scared now.

To my surprise, he pulled his gaze away and moved past me.

I didn’t even know where he’d come from, when he’d appeared, if he’d seen Quinn leave. “What the fuck do you want?”

He actually stopped—and then slowly turned around.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

Face-to-face, his blue eyes looked down at me, wide and open, furious.

All I could see was the blue color of his eyes, not his mouth, not the lines of tension around his temples, not everything else that made a face expressive. But my imagination filled in the gaps, and I pictured a man who wanted me hung by a noose.

After the heated stare, he turned away once more.

“Asshole, I asked you a question.” My response to terror was confidence, to make myself big and loud, to make myself seem like a bigger opponent than I really was. And there was a bit of rage there, because this man didn’t belong in the castle, and my father would value my warning a lot more if I were a man instead of a woman.

Tags: Penelope Sky Fantasy
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