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Afton
Afton relished in the bloodshed of her enemies, especially when she was provoked. King Thorin’s guards had reached for her with chains, knowing good and well what she and her sister were capable of. Perhaps they hadn’t believed the rumors. Perhaps they didn’t know the magic she could conjure inside the castle walls was more potent than anywhere else. Perhaps they had been fools. All of them.
The guards had been silent when they arrived with the note from their king in hand. Shani—one of her outside guards—had brought her the envelope, and Afton then granted them entry into the meeting room. Before, she hadn’t allowed it, but she was growing tired of receiving these letters from Thorin.
Afton peered at the light green color of her dress, now ruined by crimson speckles. Such a shame. It was an exquisite gown, after all, the way the material swished around her and hugged her curves. Her wardrobe was filled with others just as bold, just as beautifully deadly.
One of the servants had already unlaced her gown and left Afton to herself. She peeled the silky material from her body, letting it pool to the floor before stepping into the tub. The water’s warmth lit up her skin as she lowered herself inch by inch into its depths, the liquid caressing every part of her body. In that moment, she wanted to explore herself, press her hands between her thighs, rid herself of the stress from earlier. What if she hadn’t been at the castle? What if the guards had gotten to her sister? Silver was as strong as Afton, but she still could have been hurt—or worse, killed. She couldn’t focus on relieving herself while her thoughts continued to turn to Enare.
King Thorin would remain an issue. The territories were separate for a reason, but that didn’t stop Enare’s villagers from slinking into Ketill and stirring up problems. They’d been a direct threat, yet now their bones resided with the growing collection in the tunnel. Chance after chance had been given, but after today, she knew it wouldn’t end unless she did something more drastic.
Afton didn’t know much about the newly-crowned king who had stepped into his father’s role six months ago. Thorin’s father had been a tyrant, and based on today, his son had taken after him. If the king wanted to woo her, he should have come himself and attempted to talk to her, not send letter after letter insisting that she travel there. Today had been more of a demand. And if anyone was going to make demands, it would be her.
The truth was nothing could tempt her toward Thorin because her heart already belonged to another. Ragan. He’d staked a claim on the organ and had somehow pierced past the layers, lightening the darkness within her. Yet, she couldn’t avoid Thorin any longer.
Shaking away the anger coursing through her, Afton grabbed the vanilla soap bar and scrubbed herself clean. If Thorin wanted a betrothed, then he would get one. One who would rip him apart, remove his head, hands, and feet, then take over his territory. And not because she was a greedy monster, but because his territory had been in ruins for far too long. It was why some of the villagers were the way they were. Once she gained control, she would rebuild Enare.
By joining the two clans, Thorin would want Afton’s territory for himself. That would never happen—it would only lead to the destruction of her people. As for the other surrounding territories, they could do as they damn well pleased—provided they remained on their own turf.
Reaching for her dagger, Afton picked and cleaned the debris from her nails. She sighed as she peered down at the clash between red blood and white soap, life and death entwined, swirling around her.
There wasn’t time for her to relax, not when her body was still humming with energy. What she needed was to find a true escape. There wouldn’t be time for a long interlude, since she had to follow through with her plan the following day. But it would be enough.
Afton needed to find Ragan now. When the spark between them had begun, she didn’t love him—she’d never fallen for any of her past lovers. Before, Afton had always believed that to love was to yield, and she’d never wanted to yield. She’d wanted to loathe it, wanted to deny it, call it weak. Yet she’d chosen to give in. And she couldn’t stop their first meeting from rising to the surface.
Silver stood chatting with a man whose back was turned to Afton. He was tall, broad, his brown hair pulled back with a leather strap. Her body heated just from looking at his backside, then she realized what he was. A stranger in her kitchens, with her sister.
“Who’s this?” Afton asked, her tone clipped.
“His name’s Ragan.” Silver beamed, waving Afton closer. “Jeanette brought him here for us to meet, to see about him taking over some of her shifts in the kitchens.”
The man turned to look at her, and Afton blinked. His face was one of the prettiest she’d ever seen. Strong jaw, defined lines and angles, long lashes above deep brown eyes.
“You must be Afton,” Ragan said, his voice low and deep.
She scowled at his easy use of her name.
“What do you think?” Silver grinned.
Afton thought that perhaps he should leave and never return. Instead, she asked, “Can you make tarts?” Anyone who worked there needed to know how to bake them for her sister. Silver wouldn’t have cared, but Afton did.
“I can make anything you want.” His lips tilted up, his eyes not lifting from hers.
“Then start now, and I’ll come back to try them later. If they suit our tastes, then you can stay.” She whirled around and trudged toward the front of the castle, refusing to glance back, before she invited him to her bed. He might be pretty enough to take for the night, but that would be all.
Afton had been so wrong about that... Those damn tarts had led much farther than she ever would have expected.
For now, she would have his naked skin against hers before returning to her duties. Throwing on another gown with a plunging neckline and a slit on one side of the skirts—this time red to go with the bloody theme of her day—Afton headed out of her room. Her boots dug into the plush carpet as she walked past the rows of statues, ones that Afton had made Silver hide behind when their parents’ moods would take an even darker turn.
She brushed off the familiar fury that still rose in her chest when thinking of her parents. Afton grasped the wooden handrail while descending the onyx staircase to the wide sitting room below. New silk pillows decorated the purple velvet settee, and not a speck of dust covered the marble floors or any of the decorations.
The clanging of metal reverberated through the walls near the bottom of the stairs. She already knew it was Javan in the weapons room. He grated on her nerves, ever since she was a small child. Because he had done nothing, while her parents had done everything. And the everything her parents had done to her and Silver didn’t have an ounce of goodness hidden within. Deep down, a minuscule part of her knew Javan had tried to do better once Afton murdered her parents. Though she had never forgiven him, and never would, she couldn’t kill him either. Silver loved him too much. Besides, he’d proven his loyalty to the two of them time and again.
Afton lifted her chin, picked up her skirts, and kept her footsteps light as she walked past the weapons room. She was certain Javan wouldn’t want to follow her to see where she was going.
The energy from the earth strummed a fast and furious song within her, the magic practically yelling at her as the wax churned upstairs. Her digits twitched, wanting to draw it in, and she extended her claws, then retracted them, to calm it. The magic quieted while she walked down the narrow hall, once covered in the past royals’ portraits. Now they stood bare—she’d burned the paintings, destroyed the faces of the queens and kings who had been no better than her parents.
Afton itched for her mace, but she’d left it behind in her room. Her fingers brushed the dagger hidden in the secret pocket of her dress. With a smile, she ran her sharp nails across the wall to signal Ragan. A shuffling came from the kitchens, and she knew he was in tune to her every movement.
As she rounded the corner, her hand dropped from the wall, and she sauntered into the wide space. The scent of roasted meat and buttery rolls filled the air. Copper pans hung across one of the walls, and white powder covered several of the gray stone countertops. Ragan stood in front of the stove with his back turned—he didn’t even glance behind him when she neared. Afton’s heart swelled as she folded her hand around his neck and pressed her nails to his skin, digging in, but not deep enough to draw blood, just right where he liked it.
She couldn’t pinpoint when and how her feelings for him had changed. Perhaps it was while sitting beside him on his porch out in the woods as they gazed up at the merciless stars. Or maybe it was how he’d never once asked her why she hadn’t kissed him on the mouth. Yet she had pressed her lips both ferociously and tenderly to every other inch of his flesh. It may have even been his lack of fear for the darkness of her heart, for he knew what she’d done to her parents, her enemies.
“Hello, Afton,” Ragan rasped.
“Hello, Ragan,” she whispered in his ear and removed her fingernails.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” His movements were swift, lifting her so fast that he already had her seated on the counter with his strong body positioned between her legs. White flour coated the front of his apron, and flecks of it had gathered on her dress from the counter.
A brown lock of hair had escaped the leather tie he always wore, and she swiped the strands behind his ear. Her body heated as his piercing gaze locked on hers—those eyes were what had first drawn her in. Not the shade, it wouldn’t have mattered the color, but the intensity, the loneliness—something she’d wanted to unravel. And then she’d wished to stay instead of leave.
“Did you request hearts on this fine evening?” he asked silkily, his lips pressing soft kisses to her neck.
She reclined her head back to give him better access as she drew him in closer by the waistband of his pants. “Is that all you have for me?”
His mouth left her flesh and he stepped back, making her viciously desperate for his warmth to return. He moved toward the stove, where two cooked organs rested on top of a tray, though there should have been three... But she wouldn’t question Javan now, not when flames were licking across her body with a sharpening need for Ragan.
Scooping the hearts up, he plopped them on a plate and handed the organs to her. The brown outer layers looked positively delicious, not a hint of rawness in sight.
“I suppose I’ll share one with you.” She smirked, lifting the warm meat to her lips and taking a bite. As the piece slid down her throat, magic shook within her, hard, fierce, like an earthquake about to shatter the ground. Perfect.
Afton held the organ toward Ragan, and he smiled as his teeth sank into it. She set the meat back on the plate and placed her hands on Ragan’s back.
“Do I want to know how you obtained these?” He grinned while chewing.
“I’ll tell you the story after.”
“After what?” Ragan leaned forward, his eyes on hers.
“This.” Afton tugged his hips toward hers and pressed her lips to the center of his throat—the same place where her nails had dug in earlier.
“Then let’s not waste time,” he groaned, his length hardening deliciously against her.
She still didn’t allow her lips to caress his mouth as she skated them behind his ear, then under his jaw. Even though she’d never kissed a single lover, she yearned to do it with him. She would give him her first kiss eventually, but not today.
Ignoring that want—that need—she unbuckled his pants. Her fingers trailed down his lower stomach, then slipped beneath his waistband, so close to touching his hardness.
A loud clatter sounded, making Afton protectively push Ragan to the side to look past him. Her claws extended, her hidden teeth lowering. Shani stood frozen, staring at her, with her gray eyes as wide as saucers. Afton’s gaze drifted to the two metal trays on the floor.
She hopped from the counter—any heat burning through her extinguished.
Ragan groaned, knowing he would need to get back to work. “Later? In the gardens?”
Afton wanted to—was about to say fuck it all—yet she needed to remain focused. “I’ve got some business I’ll have to take care of for a few days, but after that? I’ll do anything you want in the garden. And perhaps, I may confess to you more of my secrets if you tell me more of yours.”
His gaze pinned to hers, the edges of his lips tilting upward. “I like that idea.”
She turned to Shani, who had scooped up the trays. “You’re lucky you walked in when we were still dressed.”
Shani’s face flushed against her brown skin. Afton chuckled and headed back to her room.
Throwing open her door, she grabbed the trunk from beneath her bed and packed it with a couple simple dresses. As soon as the sun rose in the morning, she would leave Ketill.
First, as the world grew dark, Afton needed to stop by the cottage outside the castle for a few supplies. The idea brewing inside her head was better than any she’d had in a long time. But she couldn’t execute this plan on her own—it would require her sister. Afton hated asking Silver for help when it could put her in danger.
For this, though, it was necessary.
