King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(20)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“You don’t. But the way I see it, you have no choice, because I’ll kill you if you don’t do what I say. Either way, I win.”

She nodded, as if trying to swallow the bitter pill named Mia that had been shoved down her throat.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” I said. “Now, would you be so kind as to take me to my quarters and summon Callias for me?”

Her eyes burst open. “Why?”

“That’s my business. Just do it.”

“May I ask one question, Mia?”

I shrugged.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much about our king? It seems your demands are founded upon other motivations, aside from circumventing events that have yet to pass.”

She was right. My rage was more than simply avoiding this shit-storm called my life. Now that I’d caught a glimpse of the man—unspeakably beautiful and unsoiled by her damned curse—part of me mourned for that piece of him. Trapped, suffering and tortured for three thousand years, buried underneath layers of evil. If I could keep him from ever becoming cursed, it would not only change my fate, but his, too.

“It’s none of your damned business,” I said.

“You love him, don’t you?” Her words were spoken as an accusation, as if to say any acknowledgement on my part would confirm her suspicions of my insanity.

“Love is not a word I would use to describe how I feel about that man.” A man who sent me fleeing for my life. That said, I really didn’t know how I felt. It was complicated. “My motives and feelings are none of your business. Just do as you are told, Hagne.”

Dammit. I sound like King now.

Sinister intentions twinkled in her deep brown eyes, but her lips curled up into a polite smile. “Let us be on our way, then.”

Outside the temple waited five burly guards, their already dark skin deeply tanned, and their black hair pulled into tight braids. They each wore an embossed leather chest plate over plain blue tunics that reached mid-thigh. These guards also wore little leather headbands with bright red and blue feathers.

How festive.

“These are Spiros, the king’s personal guards,” Hagne said.

Spiros? These were Arno’s and Stefanos’s ancestors. My mind quickly toyed with the notion of undoing yet another unfortunate turn of events. The future Spiros didn’t seem too pleased about being eternally bound to King. On the other hand, it would be a moot point if I prevented King from becoming cursed.

Hagne added, “These men are to see to your safety, per the king’s orders.”

She really meant they’d make sure I didn’t go anywhere.

“What’s new?” I said. “Lead the way.”

With the escorts on our heels, Hagne walked me through several corridors, outside through another courtyard with bright red, overflowing flowers in giant clay pots. Every building and structure seemed made of the same pale stone painted with murals of sea creatures or goddesses.

As we neared a small fruit orchard overlooking the ocean, another large structure—with soaring pillars, large doorways, and more flowers—came into view. I realized it had to be King’s “wing of the palace,” because every room had more. More elaborate paintings. More ornate carvings on the stone pillars. More space. It had a grand palatial feel.

I stopped and looked at Hagne, pointing at the temple. “I’m staying…here?”

She nodded with a toxic glare. “You will stay in the chamber adjacent to his.”

I stepped back.

“Something the matter?” she asked, holding back a snicker.

I shook my head. “No. I just—”

“You said you would handle the beast. Are you not capable?” Her words made me take another step back. I was treading in unknown waters. This King wasn’t cursed or evil, but was he some other breed of savage? A man who took what he wanted, no questions asked?

We’re still talking about King. What the hell do you think?

Okay, but this is a much less complex and tainted version of King. This King is just a man.

I had to admit, a part of me secretly felt intrigued. This King was the one who still had all of the singularly seductive qualities—the raw male strength and the frigging hot as hell body—but without the curse. This version of King was human and alive, which meant the depths of his f**ked-up-ness were limited to one lifetime. In fact, I’d bet if we compared notes, my past would out-shady him at this stage.

“I can handle your king,” I replied.

When I entered the lavish chamber, I immediately noticed a few things. One: no doors. Two: adjoining balcony to King’s chamber, overlooking the ocean. Three: indoor plumbing.

Yes! Steam drifted from the sunken stone tub, and floral scented soaps were piled into painted dishes beside neatly folded stacks of soft cloths. I turned and savored the view from the glassless window overlooking a never-ending stretch of turquoise and deep blue ocean. In fact…

Holy shit. This was exactly where King would build his new home. Right on this very spot. The position against the setting sun and the shape of the shoreline—sort of a small inlet between two rolling hills—were almost the same. I noted to myself how even cursed kings can be sentimental creatures.

“I will have a fresh gown brought to you,” said Hagne, “and the girl will do your hair after you have bathed.” She pointed to a young woman, about fifteen or so, wearing a plain brown tunic, standing with a rigid posture in the corner of the room. Four more awaited instructions near the doorway.

“Does she have a name?” I asked.

“Why do you care? She is a slave,” responded Hagne.

“She’s a person. With a name. Just like you.”

“Ypirétria,” Hagne responded impatiently.

I hated that they called them maids and not by their proper names.

“And what are their names?” I jerked my head toward the other four.

“Ypirétria,” Hagne replied again.

I shook my head. “So, what? I’m supposed to call them out numerically, like Thing One and Thing Two?”

Hagne blinked at me.

“Never mind.” Now was not the time to school them in the value of civil liberties, but I did take comfort in knowing that this problem would eventually improve, though not soon enough in my book. In the meantime, it didn’t mean I had to follow their rules.

Hagne dipped her head and took her leave. One of the girls closed off a curtain over the doorway and approached me.