FOREVER KNIGHTS: #12 Primal Intent
Peaceably For Now

“To the peasants.”

You still think that’s me? He shook his head contemptuously.

“Do you even have a conscience?” She persisted.

“Riaura, you’re still a foolish girl.” His jaw ticked in annoyance. He tipped his head back to stare down his nose at her. Shifting to rise.

Unwilling to lose her advantage, she leaned over him. Pressing her forehead to his and easing him back. Her hair pouring across his cheeks in a silken cascade. Touching him like the hands of a lover.

He allowed her to move him back until he was strung sideways across his bed.

Her petite frame warming him as she crawled atop him. Pressing him down.

He groaned at the feel of her. Eyes sparking with interest.

She had his attention, and she intended to keep it. She licked her lips, letting him study the small motion. Her voice was coaxing when she spoke. “Alazar, I need to know why they’re being hurt. If you don’t tell me, I’m forced to come to my own conclusions.”

The peasants? She’s kissing me and talking about torture. He tried to focus his addled brain.

Her expression was cold. “Why do you keep this secret from me? You purposely withhold what you know even though you know it causes me pain.”

No. I’ve told you countless times. You just refuse to hear anything about Danbury.

He snapped, “You cause me pain every time you look at me callously, curse my name, or flatly reject even speaking to me.”

“How can you claim emotion, yet show none when you say that?” She gestured to him. Before continuing. “Because you’re lying. You don’t care about anything!”

That’s a lie! He lifted his head to glare at her.

“Why has Charles become sicker? What have you done to him?”

He’s turning Cimmerii. Alazar had noticed the stink of him was getting worse. His body is dying.

Is there anything she doesn’t blame me for? He was really beginning to wonder.

“His seizures are getting worse.”

Many of those are fake. Alazar could smell the difference in someone who had a real episode. What he does is for her sympathy or to change the subject from something he doesn’t like.

Alazar had quickly caught onto that. Why hasn’t she?

“You refuse to allow me even the smallest grain of happiness.” She hissed. “You know I should be celebrating an engagement. But you’ve interfered and tormented me.”

“How precisely have I done that, Riaura?”

She glared down at him. Face framed by the thick gold waves of her hair.

Because of your own feelings? He realized. Frowning.

That’s not my fault!

“You’ve spoken poorly of Charles incessantly.”

“Stop mentioning that scrap of a human to me!” He roared angrily.

“Alazar!” She gasped in horror. “He’s my fiancé and deserves the respect due a future king.”

Alazar choked with rage. No. He most certainly doesn’t.

And no one is going to give it to him!

“You truly believe I’d let that excuse for a man be a king to any realm?”

Certainly not Nightway.

She pounced, leaning closer. “Is that a confession?”

Of what? He was baffled.

“Your precious Danbury will never rule me. I’d laugh over his cold corpse first. I don’t need to hurt him. He’s sealed his own fate. He’s the reason he’s dying.”

Blind with rage, Riaura jerked from him. Yanking a dagger from her skirts and pushing it to his throat.

For a second time. His teeth gritted and his nose twitched in irritation. For the last time.

“I should have you whipped for your insolence.” She grated out.

Where’d she learn to say such a ridiculous thing?

“The men that come to my den to whip me, would leave it only to be buried.”

She pressed the blade into the thin flesh above his collarbone.

His expression was unmoved. Red droplets cascaded down the blade.

“You’ve made a terrible mistake Alazareth. And I am sorry for it.” She glared hatefully at him. Mouth open as she shook her head sadly.

He took it. Catching the back of her head as he consumed her lips. Delving in to taste her while she gasped in outrage. He swallowed the sound and the memories flashing over her mind’s eye.

Her childhood. Up to her tenth birthday, when Marod had locked her in a dark closet and forgotten her. When she was twelve and he’d taught her to skip rocks on Dread Brew Wake. When she’d cried to him and he’d sat shoulder to shoulder with her in silence. Offering comfort.

The memory ended abruptly when she dug in her blade. Shoving him firmly back.

“Now I’ve made a mistake.” Though there was no remorse in his voice. He tossed her off him and rose to his feet, striding to the door and throwing it open. “Call them, Little Queen.” He gestured. “I go peaceably…for now.”

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