The Prisoner’s Throne (The Stolen Heir Duology, #2)

by Holly Black

Oak turned his attention to Cardan again, and this time the High King met his eyes. Cardan’s eyebrows rose. There was a challenge in his gaze and the promise of lazy cruelty. Game on.

“That you’re terrifying?” he asked, his drawl becoming exaggeratedly languorous, almost a purr. “I adore it.”

“Well, come on,” says Hyacinthe. “Unless you want me to carry you.” “Carry me? What a delightful offer. You can bear me in your arms like a maiden in a fairy tale.” Hyacinthe rolls his eyes. “I can throw you over my shoulder like a sack of grain.” “Then I suppose I shall walk,”

“I haven’t been home in almost two months and am sticky with salt spray,” he says. “I want to take a bath and put on my own clothes and sleep in my own bed before you all start yelling at me.” Jude snorts. “Pick two.” “What?”