*Ainslee*
“Zoey, you can leave for now, thank you,” Rafe tells the maid. She hesitates, looking from him to me, as if I also need to tell her it’s okay. He’s the prince; who am I to argue with him? Well, over that anyway. I nod, and she scurries out the door, but I don’t think she’s gone too far. She’ll need to come back in a bit because I’m not sure I can unzip this dress. Thoughts of Rafe being the one to unzip it enter my mind, and I almost laugh out loud. Yeah, uh, that’s not what this conversation is going to be about.
“Well?” I ask him, folding my arms under my chest. I realize I am inadvertently pushing them up to the top of my lowcut dress, but that’s not my intention, and if he notices them, there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Well….” He is staring at my boobs for a moment before he raises his eyes back to my face. “Well, I’ve known you are a Luna for about two days,” he admits. “Zeke told me right before the culling.”
I stare into his eyes, waiting for him to blink, waiting for him to waiver. I’m not sure I believe him. It would be very easy for him to make that story up. But I have gotten to know him better than I want to admit or can explain in the last few days, so I believe him. His tell-tale signs that he’s fabricating are missing.
“How did Zeke know?” I want to sit down on the bed because these heels are killing me, but I don’t dare.
“He did some research. He recognized your last name.” Rafe shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Do you understand now why I needed to bring you here? It wasn’t me who wanted you in the culling, Ainslee. It was the Blacks. They want you out of the picture because they see you as a threat.”
The laugh that comes out of my mouth sounds enough like a donkey braying that I am momentarily embarrassed at the noise before I remember that I don’t give a rat’s ass what Rafe thinks about me. “Me, a threat? Don’t be ridiculous. They see me as a weak child, that’s all.”
“Really? Then how do you explain the lengths they went to to make sure that you were part of the culling? Do you think they see those other people the same way? Granted, the blonde girl who got lost rather quickly is likely here because of something her mother said, but the rest of that outfit had done something to make the Blacks think they might turn against them, hadn’t they?”
He has a point. We’d discussed it. Almost everyone could pinpoint what it was they had said or done to make the Blacks angry. And some people, like me, had more than one event.
I let out a sigh and turn away from him. It’s too much. I’m having issues processing it all. I wish I’d known before dinner. Having the king spring it on me like that was overwhelming. I have a fucking tear in my eye as I turn back to him. I’m so over crying all the time like a little baby. “You could’ve told me before.”
“When?” His eyes go wide for a moment. “After the culling you were ready to kill me again. I didn’t have a chance.”
“You could’ve told me during the culling,” I remind him. “Fuck, Rafe, we were lying next to one another in a deep black hole for five hours.”
He stares at me for a second, and I realize I have just called him by his first name—very disrespectful. I want to apologize, but I can’t. He shakes his head as if to undo it and says, “I couldn’t tell you then, Ainslee. I wasn’t me. I was John. Why would John know who you are?”
“I don’t know. Maybe John asked me my last name, and when I told him, he recognized it.” I shrug, thinking he could’ve came up with something. “Really, it wouldn’t be that hard.”
“So when John, the guy in the dark, told you that you were a Luna Queen, you would’ve just accepted that, huh? And not have jumped to any conclusions? Like maybe that’s the reason I wanted you here, as a political prisoner?”
“Isn’t that what I am?” My forehead knits as I go over the conversation we’ve just had. The king admitted at dinner that he killed my great-grandfather. Whether he meant he had him killed or did it himself, I don’t know, but he essentially erased my family from power and from existence, save me. So here I am, a nonthreat, in the castle for—what reason?
“No, you’re not a political prisoner.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair. I wear him out, I know. Maybe I should stop doing that. “I brought you here to protect you from the Blacks.”
“But the king probably wants me dead, too, don’t you figure?” It only makes sense he’d want to finish the job.
“He can’t. If he does, he’ll start a war. He is trying to avoid those right now. Come on, Ainslee, I know you’re not really happy with me at the moment, but you can’t think I’m that stupid, do you? By now, your cousin is very much aware that you’re alive and well and living in the palace. King Axel doesn’t know that he wasn’t aware of you until today. But he does know it’s not worth it to piss him off. For all Axel knows, you were working on the inside for your cousin, and now you’re here because I got you out.”
I stare at him for a long moment before I admit, “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. My cousin? This all sounds like political espionage to me.”
“In a way it is, but only because I had to keep you safe. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have turned to our enemy to let him know you were here. And I wouldn’t have lied to the king to make him think there was even the remotest possibility you were a spy for Warfang.”
“Warfang?” I am aware of the kingdom on the other side of the wasteland at the border of Shadowglade territory, but I don’t know what that has to do with me.
“Yes. Alpha King Striker is your cousin, Ainslee. The Blacks essentially swallowed up your family when they came to power. Axel wouldn’t let your grandfather stay, so he disappeared, but then your father came back, and the Blacks got rid of him. I doubt Striker knows you even exist.”
I sink down on the edge of the bed, despite previously thinking it was a bad idea, trying hard to process what he’s telling me, but it’s all too much. Alpha King Striker is my cousin? I go over what I know of his family in my mind, but there’s not much there. I try to remember what I know of our last Alpha King. It’s very little. We were told it was best not to learn such things in school, and all my mother knew was that his name was King Darius. It hadn’t been that long since he was on the throne, yet, no one was able to speak his name, so our history faded away.
“It’s a lot.” Rafe’s voice is calm and soothing. “I’m sorry to spring it all on you.” He sits next to me, only a few inches between us.
We both stare at the wall for several seconds. I’m trying to figure out who I am, and he’s probably second guessing all of his life choices that have brought him to this moment. I turn to look at him, noting his perfect jawline, how symmetrical his face is, how he holds is lips while he’s thinking.
When he turns to face me, the distance is closed, and all of the information overload suddenly melts away, as do our titles, who we are, who we’ve been, everything. All I see is a handsome man who smells like masculine flowers in a way I can’t describe, and I want him. My ability to think gone, I do the unthinkable.