Page 33 of Fae Mates

“By answering your questions,” he said with a sigh. “Very well, Gala wanted to divest you of a specific destiny that was a danger to the realm.”

“More like useful in her quest to become the queen.”

He paused to level me with his cold, green eyes. “Do you want me to answer your question, or will you continue with these loathsome interruptions?”

I stuffed a heaping spoonful of porridge in my mouth and chewed.

“Gala needed to protect the kingdom from dangerous influences and decided that the best way to remove that destiny would be to burn its vessel.”

“And stand close enough to absorb the smoke?” I added.

Prince August narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“She stood by the supposed burning corpse, didn’t she?”

“To make sure no-one put it out,” he said with a look of anguish that twisted his features.

“Careful,” said McVittie from the top of the stairs. “You can’t argue with these kinds of deep-set curses. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence, the victim will find the truth too painful to consider, and the facts will slide off his brain.”

“How do you know all this?” I glanced down at the black cat.

“Living in Spindlewinder with all those hags taught me a thing or two about the darker elements of magic,” replied the cat.

“I might have known.” Prince August placed the last spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“That curse you placed on me earlier. The one that milked me dry—”

“That was all you, Your Highness,” muttered McVittie.

Prince August pointed at me, his cheeks turning red. “And your contraption that choked my sword and pumped me for my seed. This is all part of a plot to discredit Gala and steal her rightful crown.”

McVittie tapped the side of my leg with his paw. “Don’t argue with him. It’s not worth the effort.”

“You’re right.” I stood, placed my bowl on the tray, and approached the bed. “Have you finished eating?”

Prince August snatched my arm and wrenched me onto his lap. “Release me.”

My heart thudded. Just because the cuffs had suppressed his magic, it didn’t mean he was without physical strength. One arm held me tight around my middle, and his hand wrapped around my throat in a punishing grip.

“You,” he snarled. “The talking cat.”

“Let go of her,” snapped McVittie.

“Bring your other accomplice and order him to release me, or I will crush this traitor’s throat.” He stood, dangling me off the ground by my neck with only an arm around my waist for support.

“Get help,” I wheezed.

McVittie’s eyes widened, and he bolted down the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Prince August set me on my feet and loosened his grip, but not enough for me to wriggle free or gain any leverage. I reached between our bodies to grab hold of his balls, but he canted his hips out of the way.

“Not again,” he snarled into my ear, his breath hot. “I will never allow an unworthy creature like you to lay one finger on my person.”

“You’re just saying that because you enjoyed every minute of what happened earlier,” I spat.

“I did not,” he whispered, although there was no conviction to his voice.