Another arrow, this time joining the one in her chest. “Stop talking,” Faren ordered as he approached her. He was bloodied but victorious. “One more word and it will be your last.”
Faren climbed the platform, nocked an arrow, and aimed it at her face. Desmerada opened her mouth to speak again, her brows drawn together in fury, but the silvery tip of the bolt seemed to change her mind. Silence.
Satisfied that there was no threat to Elena, I turned back to her. Her eyes fluttered open, and a weak blast of fire radiated around her. I withstood it, ignoring the pain, and pulling her tightly into my arms. The fire dissipated as soon as I touched her.
“Paris,” she whispered.
“I’m here. Rest now.”
“Safe?” she asked.
“Safe.”
Her lashes lowered, the gossamer gold resting against her pale skin. “Good. Wouldn’t w-want you t-to be spider bait.”
I pulled her to my chest and buried my face in her hair as she went limp, exhaustion stilling her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elena
I slept deeper and better than I ever had in my life. Awakening in a strange room, I peered at the dark furniture and overdone crimson accents everywhere. It was easily the hugest bedroom I’d ever seen. After living in Artemis’s woods for thousands of years, I might never get used to such grandeur.
The walls were heavily paneled with the same near-black wood that grew in the Darkwood. Images of Desmerada hung everywhere—dressed in a crimson robe, sitting astride some large, dead beast, its blood coating her mouth, and on and on. The boudoir paintings were the worst. Who had close-up, detailed paintings of their own most private areas lining the walls of their bedroom? Desmerada.
The ceiling soared away overhead, intersected by sturdy beams of the same dark wood. Mirrors hung over the bed. I could see myself, curled up on my side, my hair in a tangle. I wore one of Paris’s shirts, though I didn’t know how I’d gotten into it. I caught a shadow moving in a reflection and rolled to my right.
It was Paris, hopping on one leg as he stabbed the other into some pants.
I smiled. “Going somewhere?”
He gave up the effort and fell back onto the bed. “I didn’t know when you’d wake and figured you needed your rest.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Just overnight. The suns are rising over our kingdom.”
He encircled me in his arms and kissed me, taking my breath away with the steady pressure of his mouth. I had a million questions but seemed to forget every single one when he kissed me. I could focus on nothing but him.
I opened my lips for him, and he slipped his tongue inside, stroking mine. I ran my fingers through his hair and gripped him. He pulled the blanket away from my body and moved on top of me, one leg between my knees as he continued his now-fervent kiss.
He set a fire within me that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with how he made me feel. Gods, the hard sensation of him against me would drive me to do something wanton. I squeezed his locks until I knew it hurt. He growled into my mouth, eased a hand up my shirt, and cupped my breast, teasing the hard nipple with his thumb. He swallowed the moan that rose from me.
A cough from across the room had me crashing back down to reality. “My lord, I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed…”
Paris broke our kiss. “Faren, I forgot you were there.”
“Been here the whole time, my lord.”
I looked across the expansive room and could see Faren’s broad smile even from that distance. With a quick yank, I pulled the blanket over me. Faren’s low laugh caused heat to seep into my cheeks.
“Sorry,” Paris whispered in my ear. “I really did forget. You do that to me.”
“What’s going on? Where are we?”
“This is our bedroom. Well, it’s the king’s chambers.”
“This is going to require a lot of redecorating,” I said, hoping that I never saw another crimson piece of fabric as long as I lived.
Paris leaned back toward me, perching on his elbow. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
“Can we talk about this later?” I shot a glance to Faren.
“We can.” Paris’s tone was cool as he pushed away from me and managed to get his pants on.
Though my feelings for Paris were intense, this victory changed nothing. I still intended to take Menelaus’s head. And after that? I didn’t know. Who was I if Artemis no longer wanted me in the ranks? Where would I go? I needed to think, to plan, but all that crumbled whenever Paris caught me in that sky-blue gaze. He was now locked into my deepest heart, though he may have been in there all along. How could I explain all these feelings? Was there a strategy for that?