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“I should put all four of your heads on a pike for treason. I just assaulted the Queen, and you cowards stood there and watched me do it. The next time someone lays a hand on her and you don’t kill them where they stand, I’ll carve out your eyeballs and feed them to the fucking hounds. It doesn’t matter if it’s me or the Regent or Blessed Mother Lumnos herself. Do your damn jobs and protect our Queen.”
“And here I was thinking you all only carried weapons as jewelry,” I said, nodding at the ornate sword hilt peeking over his shoulder. “This sword is a family heirloom. It can cut as well as any blade in Emarion—and it’s seen plenty of battlefields.” He sounded a little defensive. It was, disturbingly, a little cute.
Luther’s emotionless eyes slid to my brother. “Is she normally like this?” Teller raised an eyebrow. “You mean irrationally angry at everything and everyone?” Luther nodded. “Yes.”
Seriously
“They want us to feel small, Eleanor. They want us to be quiet, be predictable, be unimportant, behave. Then they make us think we deserve it. But I think they’re just terrified we’ll stop listening to them and start listening to each other. And do you know why they’re so scared of women like us?” Our gazes met, two sets of glittering eyes shining in shared determination. “Why?” she asked. My answering grin was positively wicked. “Because they damn well should be.”
“But rest assured, my Queen, when I do kiss you, there will be no confusion. You will know that I have claimed you—and I won’t have any desire to deny it.”
“Luther,” I gasped. “Two jokes in one day! You’re going to need a nap to recover from this excitement.”
“Or maybe you prefer me in muddy pants and a borrowed tunic.” “Only when it’s mine.”
Ayyyee
Luther sighed. “Just say the word and I’ll hang him upside down from the rafters.” “Not again,” Taran moaned. I laughed and settled back into the cushions. “If Taran wants to boast that he can’t get a woman in bed unless there’s money involved, far be it for me to stop him.”
“This was a bad idea,” Luther muttered. “You two becoming friends is my worst nightmare.”
Taran and I shared a mischievous grin. Over the course of the funeral, he and I had become fast friends.
So now he's at risk of dying lol
After vowing to call me “Her Depressing Majesty, Queen Die-em the Royal Undertaker” for the rest of my life, he’d finally thrown an arm around my neck and turned his teasing on other members of the family.
I scoffed. “You think I would let anyone dare to stand in the way of my beloved cousins and mind-blowing sex?”
“I step away for a few minutes and the conversation has already turned to sex?” The three of us looked up to see Luther towering over us with eyebrows raised. “Diem is lifting Garath’s ban on royals mating without permission.” Eleanor smirked. “And all in the name of good sex.”
He smiled—a true smile, broad and exquisite, his face radiating such matchless brilliance that I pitied the sun.
“If a kiss is the reward, my Queen, I’ll get on my knees for you whenever you want.”
Oh my goddddd
“A scar is a sign of survival,” I continued. “Of endurance. It’s a sign that its bearer triumphed over what might have killed a lesser person. To show off your scars is to tell the world you’re not ashamed of what you’ve overcome. Frankly, I can’t imagine any better symbol of strength. And if Luther were my King, then I would make him swear to me he would never remove it. I would hope he wore it with pride for the rest of his life.”
“You have me beat on number, but I think I’ve got you on size.” I broke into a mischievous grin. “It’s not the size that matters Luther, it’s what you can do with it.”
I’m as mature as a middle school boy. I see sex jokes and I highlight.
