King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(23)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Holy shit. I’d seen over that balcony, and it was a straight drop down to the rocky cliffs below.

My feet began to move toward the stone bannister, my eyes tearing. “Don’t make me do this.”

But King simply stood inches away, a cold, heartless expression on his face as he watched me climb onto the bannister, my back to the ocean.

“My king! What is happening?” I heard a woman scream.

I turned my head toward the sound of the voice, my heart and lungs pumping frantically, wanting to override the desire to jump to my death. In that moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. King’s head swiveled away from me to see who’d called out. As I too looked, I felt my body falling back over the ledge. King’s head whipped towards the sound of my scream, his beautiful face filling with horror, realizing I’d gone over. He lunged his powerful body and caught my ankle. My body slammed hard into the wall below, knocking the wind right out of me.

“By the gods of insanity, woman!” he roared.

I was in shock, dangling precariously by one foot, my dress completely covering the upper half of my body while the rest of me, everything normally below the belt, blew in the wind. Tears of pain and horror streamed from my face.

I heard the voices of several other men and a flurry of gods-related exclamations.

“Help me get her back up,” King commanded.

Another set of hands gripped my ankle and heaved my body back over the bannister to the terrace.

With my dress now falling into place around my nether regions, I leaned forward to catch my breath.

“What is happening, my king?” I heard Hagne’s voice ask.

“She slipped,” King said. “She is fine now. Go back and enjoy your meal.”

The crowd of guests and guards exchanged hesitant glances and returned to the dining hall.

“Jesus Christ,” I panted and then stood. Immediately my feet began moving again to climb the railing. “Dammit! Tell me to stop!”

With panic-stricken eyes, King quickly grabbed hold of my arm and flung me over his broad shoulder. “Cursed crazy woman.”

As we strode off back toward his chamber, he grumbled antiquated profanities, again targeted at the gods. I had to admit, hearing him make references to deities of fire, war, death, and destruction was almost comical. Almost.

When we reached his quarters overlooking the ocean, the room glowed softly with dozens of oil lamps. Murals coated the walls with scenes depicting warriors gripping spears and animals being sacrificed.

He flung me down on his bed—also a raised cement platform with a fluffy mat and pillows. I sat up and held back an epic tongue lashing. I wanted to throttle him. I could’ve died.

He hovered over me, fuming.

“What?” I growled.

He suddenly crouched down in front of me and grabbed my “K” tattoo. “Do not ever think to do that again,” he commanded.

I snapped my arm back. “Thank you. So now you believe me?” I stood, placing us belly to belly. “After you nearly killed me!”

“I did not believe you would jump.”

“Well.” I poked his chest. “Now ya know!”

He took a sharp angry breath that caused his nostrils to flare. “Now you will tell me why you are here.”

I was about to snarl and scream, but he surprised me by grabbing my wrist and repeating his question.

I glowered at him for a moment before my mouth began to move. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“A person is not granted such a power,” he pointed to my cuff, “without having a divine purpose.”

Oh God. This is so weird.

“Tell me what you want from me.” The muscles in his square, bristly jaw pulsed with tension.

“I don’t want anything.” I snapped my arm away. “I-I…” I sat back down. “Jesus.” I sighed. This was going to break the man’s heart.

“What is Jesus?” he asked.

I glanced at him. “He’s a who, not a what, and never mind; it’s a long story.”

“I command you to cease these riddles and tell me what you are hiding. You say that you know me, that you are my woman—my betrothed many, many days into the future. Am I old? Am I dying?”

I shook my head.

“I’m”—going to sound crazy—“from three thousand or so years ahead.” I didn’t know what calendar they followed in these times, so I did some quick math. “About a million days.”

“I don’t know this million.”

I scratched my head. “Well, say you have one revolution of the sun, winter, spring, summer, and fall.”

He stared.

“Okay,” I said. “Cold weather followed by planting, growing, harvest?”

He nodded.

“Good. That’s one cycle. One year. If you had ten of those,” I held up my fingers to show ten, “that would be a decade. If you had ten decades,” I flashed my fingers ten times, “a century. If you had ten of those, that would be a millennium. So try three millennium.”

He frowned. I think he got the picture. “This is impossible. People do not live that long.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“Get to the point, woman.”

Mia. Why is it so hard for him to call me “Mia”?

I took a deep breath. “Sit.” I patted the bed next to me. Hesitantly, he did as I asked.

His big body next to mine made me feel like a fly sitting next to a Venus flytrap. I could be gobbled up at any moment.

“Hagne doesn’t love you,” I said.

His straight black brows pulled together. “Of course she does not.”

“Then why are you marrying her?”

“Her lineage is powerful and her family is feared and well respected by our commoners. Our union will ensure peace for many generations to come.”

Okay. That was good. He didn’t expect love from her. On the other hand, I clearly remembered Hagne’s journal. King had it translated and made me read it so I’d understand how he’d become cursed and why he did the things he did. I admit, his story had made me see him in a different light. I understood his pain. But he’d written his thoughts in that journal (I supposed he wanted the last word), and I sensed he’d cared for her at one point. Therefore, I could leave no doubt in his mind about Hagne. She was a psycho, backstabbing bitch. He had to believe it.

“But she does love your brother, Callias,” I said.

“This is impossible.”