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Dade gestured to the square table beyond the far side of his bed that sat flush between two large windows. Two chairs perched neatly beneath, his di
“You’ve already bathed,” he said, seating himself on the other side and pouring a glass of wine. “Vanilla.” He handed me the glass.
There was only one, and my heart warmed as I took it, my fingers brushing his. “We can share, and yes. I was…” I blew out a slight breath, admitting as I removed the lid from my dish and set it aside, steam wafting into the air. “Nervous, I suppose.”
Dade, quiet for a moment, sliced into a steak as big as my head, blood oozing out and slowly pooling over the white plate around the steamed vegetables. “Are you not excited to see your mother?”
“Yes and no.”
He nodded, understanding my fears, for I knew he harbored similar worries, his teeth plucking the large hunk of meat from his fork.
I cleared my throat and cut into my pie. “What do you know of yours?”
“My mother?” he asked, brows furrowed and food still in his mouth.
I smiled at my plate, shoveling the fluffy pie into my own mouth and nodding.
He swallowed and sliced into more of his meal. “Not much besides the basics. She was fond of politics, swimming, and cooking.”
“A queen well-suited to the throne of Vordane.”
He ignored the slight mocking in my tone. “She also loved the piano, though rumor has it that she wasn’t very good. My father had hoped for a demure wife, I’d heard, and instead, he wound up mated to a female who challenged him at every turn.” His nonchalant tone did not stop those words from making me meet his smiling eyes. “He liked chess, battle, of course, and sailing.”
“Sailing?”
He chewed and swallowed more meat before answering. “He owned a fleet of ships, and he and my uncle would often set sail twice a year under the guise of trade.” I ate some more as he went on, my chest growing tight for all he hadn’t gotten the chance to know for himself. “A male of few words, supposedly, but a keen observer. Prone to terrible tempers every other full moon should someone test him, but otherwise content.” He sipped some wine, his eyes downcast. “Many say he was u
My appetite waned; the delicious, buttery crust that dissolved over my tongue struggled to slide down my clogged throat. Neither of us looking, we both reached for the wine at the same time, the king removing his hand when I pulled back. My cheeks warmed, but I took it and greedily drank a few mouthfuls.
“How did your parents meet?” I shouldn’t have asked. I was a glutton for punishment, but it mattered. Even if he hadn’t known them himself, they were a part of him, and they mattered.
“My uncle, actually,” Dade said without inflection. “He’d dragged my father to the great lake beyond the city when he’d heard of a group of females competing in a swim competition.” A roguish smile brightened his features. “My father apparently protested as he’d had plans with two females later that evening and didn’t want to run late.”
I nearly dropped the wine as I set it down. “Two?”
Dade nodded, his knife sliding with ease through the bloodied meat, then gathered some vegetables to scoop over the top. “Supposedly, he was a little too friendly with females, though not in an overt way, but privately.” I waited as he ate, his full lips darker, wet from his food, when he continued, “Serrin promised they wouldn’t be late, but in the end, he did not return home until three days later.”
I laughed at that. “Your mother gave him a hard time.”
“No, she knew what she wanted when she’d climbed from the lake and saw him standing there.” He sat back, fingers dancing around the wineglass, his eyes dancing on me. “They hired a room in the city until they were satisfied their bond was uh… welcomed.”
My skin grew tight, too hot in an instant. I looked away, returning to my food. Yet I couldn’t keep from wondering if that was what I’d done—if that was what we’d done a few nights ago—welcomed the bond.
His sweltering stare, the burning air between us, was answer enough.
We ate in tense silence, Dade’s attention a furnace I couldn’t force myself away from, yet I didn’t look at him.
A grating and toe-curling chuckle erupted, but he rose from the table before I could glare at him. He retrieved a book from the bottom of the small pile upon his nightstand and stared down at the age-worn brown cover.
“I didn’t take you for a reader.”
“It is hard to find the time with so much murderous intent, I will admit.” I balked, the wine souring in my stomach, then his head lifted, and he laughed again—loud and utterly genuine. “Your expression just now.”
The sound—stars, the deep, melodically guttural timbre that vacated him threatened to decimate me where I sat. “You’re not fu
He huffed, stalking with that lazy yet lethal grace back to the table, and retook his seat. “Here.” Sliding the book over the wood, he instructed before returning to his meal, “Open to the first page.”
Carefully, I plucked up the book, watching him eat for a moment. He seemed to be waiting while appearing as though he cared nothing of it as I set the book in my lap and appeased my curiosity.
A female, brunette and smiling in a way that would undoubtedly make nearly anyone want to please her, gazed back at me with deep blue eyes. Below a high, marbleized cheek, a lone dimple popped, brown curls falling around a heart-shaped face as though created to help soften the eye-drawing yet cruel sensuality.
Next to the beautiful female’s image was another. This one of a male of similar brutal beauty. His bone structure was not softened by anything, least of all the eyes that smiled yet remained a deep, dark blue. His near-white hair fell to his shoulders in thick, messy waves, his lips not as full as those gracing the male seated across from me.
I looked back at the female, noting Dade drew that feature, as well as the intimidating structured edges of others, from her face.
From his mother.
Beneath the two singular, painted portraits that were finger smudged by littler hands over many years and glued to the first page of a book of outdated nursery riddles were their names.
Vern and Maya Volkahn.
Swallowing, I closed the cover over the souls that haunted the male sitting across from me and gently placed the book upon the table. “You have her cheekbones and forehead.” I gestured to my own, then my cheeks. “A slight set of dimples, her lashes, and her lips.”
Dade paused, slowly straightening and lowering his cutlery.
I continued. “Your father gave you his hair but a shade darker, and that deep, ocean blue that sometimes takes hold of your eyes.” Pressing my hands over the skirt of my nightgown to keep the tremble that arrived hidden, I managed a small laugh. “Oh, and his strong nose.”
“Strong nose?” he asked, his head tilting.
I nodded. “That perfect bridge with just the right amount of thickness and length.”
He stared for a moment, then his features creased as he sat back and released another glorious yet brief bout of laughter. My cheeks burned when he settled and stated with deliberate slowness, “Thickness and length.”
“King of jokes now, are we?” I coughed to smother my bubbling laugh. “Don’t be so lewd.”