The Heir: A Snow White Retelling (The Twisted Kingdoms Book 3) Read online

  “That was your sister, not me,” Tempest said with a straight face. His lips turned down, and he glared at her. She sniggered, not able to hold it in. “You’re like a child who’s been told to stay out of the honey pot.”

  He smirked and toyed with the laces of his silk shirt. Her gaze was drawn to his chest and the slice of burnished skin it revealed. Pyre winked at her, and she blushed. Damn him.

  Get yourself together.

  “So…” he drawled. “What else has been going on within the walls of Dotae? Want me to behead a few aristocrats to prevent an uprising? Or—”

  “I’m sure you know more about the goings-on of the city than I do, what with your spies and all,” she cut in, still feeling prickly that she’d been ignorant of Brine’s presence the whole time.

  His eyes gleamed in the light of the fire, and his smile widened, a small peek of his incisors showing. “How many of my spies have you caught, then?”

  She kept her expression neutral. “You don’t know?”

  “I know everything.”

  Tempest rolled her eyes. “You think you know everything. There’s a world of difference in the two.”

  “That’s where you are mistaken. How about I tell you what I know?” He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, all languidness gone, just predatory focus left. “I know that you spar every morning with your father. You live with your uncles, not at the barracks. You treat Ansette as you would a sister and that your still mourn your friends.” His gaze narrowed. “You also have a weakness for almond pastries and that the baker’s son likes you too much. And that you will not go back to that bakery again.”

  She blinked and processed all the information he’d given her. “So, you’ve been spying on me?”

  “I spy on everyone.”

  Her mind latched onto the baker’s son. “What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do? I will go where I please, when I please, and speak to whomever I want to.”

  He bared his teeth at her. “Brine says the baker’s son is being much too friendly. I forbid it.”

  “You get no say. You’ve forfeited that right.”

  Pyre froze, and his chest rumbled. “I’ve given up nothing. You are my mate, and he has no right to you.”

  “Your mate?” she asked quietly. Her hand began to tremble as her emotions rushed to the surface and exploded. “How dare you! You haven’t spoken one word to me in four months, and you expect me to believe that I’m your mate?” The back of her eyes began to burn, and she willed herself not to cry. “You’re a liar.”

  “You think this has been easy for me?” he demanded tightly.

  She laughed, the sound bitter. “You seem pretty happy to me in your stone palace. Your actions are opposite of your words which has led me to one conclusion. Your words mean nothing.”

  With careful movements he picked up his whiskey and took a long draught before placing it back on the table warily, leveling his full focus on her. Tempest’s skin prickled as he drank her in from head to toe.

  “You were needed in Dotae. My sister, your father, and your uncles needed you. You lost loved ones and needed time to mourn.” A ragged breath. “My duty was here. My people needed me. Heimserya is still a divided place. Things are not easy. I needed time to adjust.”

  Because she’d taken away his revenge. Her throat tightened at the memory of him pulling away, refusing to look at her. Rejection washed over her. It felt like it had happened just yesterday. “You cut me off.”

  “You make it seem like it was something I wanted.”

  “I wrote to you,” she accused softly. “You could have given me some inkling of how you were doing, but you left me in the dark.”

  “If I gave in, even a tiny bit, it wouldn’t have worked,” he snarled and tossed his hands up. “I’ve had Briggs drug me every single day to keep myself from crawling back to you.”

  Tempest stilled, her pulse pounding in her ears. He’d drugged himself. “Why?”

  “Because,” he growled, “you have been through so much in the last year. Feelings are heightened during a time of action. Emotion can cloud our judgment. I wanted you to have time to really know what you want.” His voice trailed into a whisper. “I wanted you to make a choice because you wanted it, not because anyone or anything was pushing you into it. Including myself.”

  Her breath caught. Actions did speak louder than words. He’d stayed away not because she’d hurt him or because he didn’t want her, but because he loved her and wanted her to know her own mind.

  That changed everything.

  She peered at his glass from the corner of her eye. There was barely a mouthful left. Her stomach flipped. All it would take was a sip from his glass to answer any unspoken questions between them. Tempest stood, and his hand snapped out, wrapping around her wrist. She gazed down into the kitsune’s desperate eyes.

  “Please don’t go.”

  “I wasn’t going anywhere,” she said. “I am getting hot, so I want to remove my cloak.”

  He reluctantly let her go, and she pulled her cloak off, her movements clumsy. Her nerves fluttered in her belly, and she took a calming breath before perching on the armrest of her chair closest to the whiskey.

  “I have a proposal,” Tempest said, speaking a little faster than she wanted to. She brushed at her worn trousers and then leaned forward, closing the gap between herself and Pyre by several inches. His molten gaze was locked on her, his expression placid. How did he stay so calm?

  He eased to the edge of his chair, an easy smile transforming his handsome face.

  “That sounds intriguing,” Pyre murmured, sin dripping from his tone. “What sort of proposal?”

  She blushed, knowing exactly what kind of proposal he was thinking of. “It seems Ansette needs some kind of…spymaster, if you will.”

  He blinked slowly as if that was not what he’d expected. “Oh?”

  “The mimkia problem throughout Heimserya is far from over,” she continued. “I’m sure you’re well aware of this.” The way Pyre’s jaw tightened at the mere mention of the drug confirmed that he did. “Ansette and I both agree that the people responsible for this are men still loyal to Destin.”

  “A fair assumption.”

  Tempest nodded. “But we can’t know this for sure, and even if we did—”

  “You might not be able to find them all and take them in,” Pyre finished for her. “So, my lovely sister wishes to push off the work of finding those responsible onto a third party, is that it?”

  “Not so much a third party.” She licked her lips. “You’d be working closely with me.”

  His smile dimmed. “And this…would this be a formal proposal from the Crown?”

  It’s now or never.

  She slowly reached for the whiskey, her eyes locked on his. Her fingers curled around the glass. “A formal proposal, yes, but perhaps not technically court-sanctioned, given that you’re a criminal and all.”

  His gaze heated as she lifted the cup and swirled the spirits. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief and barely contained desire.

  “I know this custom.” She held the glass to her lips and watched him over the rim.

  “Once done, you can’t take this back. It’s forever.” He was on edge, barely even breathing. “You have to mean it.”

  She smiled and then tipped back the contents of the glass into her mouth. The liquid burned her throat—she didn’t think she’d ever get used to the stuff—but when she caught the way Pyre was looking at her, she thought the burning was rather fitting.

  “Does that answer your—” she began, but before she could finish what she was saying, he yanked the glass from her hand and pulled her into his arms.

  Heat and hunger sharpened his features as he reached out and captured her chin in one hand. “God help you, you’re never escaping me again.”

  He leaned forward and crushed their lips together. She sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed a h
andful of his hair and pressed against him. Pyre gasped as she swiped her tongue along his bottom lip. His hands grabbed her waist and hauled her against him, every hard muscle pressed intimately against her. Heat spilled through her body, and tears gathered in her eyes. She’d dreamed of her kitsune kissing her like this for months now.

  Tempest gasped as he slid his tongue into her mouth with a groan. Her arms wound around his shoulders as she clung to him. His hands tightened at her waist, and he bit at her lower lip. Pyre claimed her mouth roughly.

  He wasted no time moving his attention to her chin, sliding his mouth down her neck. She threw her head back and sighed. A sense of belonging settled into her.

  “You took your time,” he breathed against her sensitive flesh. The frenzy in his touches slowed to something reverent.

  She clasped each side of his face and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I had to be—”

  “Certain?”

  The barest of nods set him off.

  He leapt to his feet, and she yelled in surprise as he swiftly lifted her into his arms bridal style.

  “What are you about?” she asked with a laugh, one hand wrapped around his shoulder, the other resting on his chest.

  “If it took you four agonizing months to be certain, then like hell am I wasting any more time in making this official, darling.” The way Pyre purred out the word darling made her mouth run dry.

  Her brain pushed past the euphoria… Official? “Wait, are you talking about a—a—mating ceremony?”

  He grinned as he jogged toward the door. “Do you object? I’d rather bloody hope you don’t after that show with the whiskey. Many shifters would consider us as good as married.”

  “You wish to marry me?”

  “I want to be tied to you in as many ways as possible. You tell me what you want. I’ll be your devoted servant.” A wicked smile curved his lips. “I’ll be happy to be your love slave as well.”

  She tossed her head backward and laughed, feeling freer than she had in ages. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “How about a mating ceremony now and a wedding later?”

  “Yes to both.” Pyre yanked the door open and cursed as he tripped over the rug in his haste. He stumbled into the hall and gave her a silly smile. “You make me clumsy.”

  “You make me happy,” she said, rubbing her nose against Pyre’s as he looked down at her.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  And, for once, Tempest did not second-guess her decision.

  Pyre’s heart belonged to her, and hers to him.

  Thirty-Nine

  Thorn

  Thorn leaned against the wall of a sketchy tavern; her hood low over her face. Traveling to Betraz had been the right move, but it still unnerved her. There were too many soldiers out looking for a fight. The shifters may have won the battle and put a new ruler on the throne, but the war was far from over. The lords of the north may have sworn begrudging fealty to the new queen, but they were no friend to the Crown. Queen Ansette’s policies regarding work rights, freedoms, and regulation of mimkia wasn’t going over well. If the young queen wasn’t careful, there’d be civil war.

  Thorn wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was assassinated within the month. Not that she wished for that to happen. Heimserya needed to change for the better. Hopefully, it would stick this time. She wouldn’t hold her breath. Those with power and riches seldomly liked to share that with others.

  Her attention honed in on a tall figure who ghosted up the street and swerved in her direction, his face hidden from view. She eyed how his cloak hung over his wide shoulders and pulled her dagger from the sheath at her waist. A precaution. Thorn had learned over the years to trust no one. Especially anyone who solicited her help. Being a treasure hunter was dangerous.

  The man slowed to a stop and leaned against the opposite stone wall. “Good evening.”

  A cultured tone. Highborn no doubt.

  “You arranged for this meeting,” she drawled, making her voice deeper than it actually was. She took on all sorts of personas while on the job. It kept her family safe from unhappy customers.

  “Your reputation proceeds you. I have to admit that I’m impressed with your skills.”

  So, he thought to flatter her. Thorn’s eyes narrowed. She’d bet her best sword that his task was not legal. The sleazy ones always tried to butter her up.

  “The job,” she said flatly.

  The man chuckled. “Right to the point. How refreshing.”

  Her hackles rose at the haughtiness that saturated his tone. She pushed away from the wall. She didn’t need his money. Working with men like him wasn’t worth the gold it paid.

  “Stop,” he said. He tossed a bag of coins at her feet. “That’s just the first half. You’ll get the second when you complete the job.”

  She made no move to pick up the velvet bag even though her fingers itched to do so. What he’d tossed away like trash would buy a plot of land and a home for her sister and nephew. Thorn cocked her head and licked her lips. She’d have to tread carefully with this one. She sensed that a predator lurked beneath his cloak. If she showed one shred of interest in his money, he’d hold all the power.

  Thorn nudged the bag with the toe of her right boot. “I cannot be bribed.”

  “I know. That’s why I’ve come to you.” He held out a small scroll, black gloves covering his hands. “Here is all the information you need. If you decide to accept the job, we’ll set up our next meeting.”

  She took it, careful not to touch his fingers. “I’ll consider it.”

  “Do so.” He nodded toward the bag as he moved passed her toward the street. “The gold is for you when you take the job.”

  She stared hard at his back. “That’s awfully presumptuous, don’t you think? I could disappear with this.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” The stranger turned his head, and she caught a glimpse of a smirk beneath his hood. “Be seeing you soon.”

  He disappeared around the corner as she tucked the scroll away and collected the bag of coins from the ground. Unease skittered down her spine. It was heavier than she expected. What sort of man tossed around coin like this? She was half tempted to leave the money in the alley but that would have been stupid.

  Thorn sulked down the alley and moved through the city, making sure to keep away from any of the rowdy soldiers. The men Betraz employed were known to be brutal bastards. The lord ruled with an iron fist, and his men were even more bloodthirsty.

  She doubled backed several times to make sure she wasn’t being followed before arriving at her inn. Thorn scaled the side of the building and slipped through a window and into her room. Once she’d checked the chamber for danger, secured the window, and closed the curtains, she finally pulled the small scroll from her pocket and the coins from her cloak.

  Her suspicion flared as she opened the drawstring and ran her fingers through the gold coins. It had to be close to ten years’ worth of wages. What the wicked hell did he want from her? Was she to find a philandering husband or wife? Retrieve an heir from a drug den? Retrieve a bauble of worth?

  Breaking the seal, she unrolled the parchment as she sat on her bed. Thorn frowned. It contained a sketch of a flower that she knew her employer desired to possess and details of how to contact him. Her hands dropped to her lap. He wanted her to find a flower? It seemed simple enough, but the simple tasks always were the most dangerous. They were never what they seemed.

  What did he want with the flower?

  Not your business.

  Thorn stood from the bed and tossed the note into the fire. Her instincts said to walk away, but her sensibilities told her not to be hasty. Her sister was ill and couldn’t work any longer. How long would it be before the madam would toss her into the streets? The madam wasn’t heartless, but she also couldn’t care for every widowed woman and orphan. Times were tough.

  The man had seen right through her bluff.
He knew she would take the job.

  Her attention moved back to the gold. No one paid that much unless it was dangerous. He’d kept something from her—they all did.

  Thorn just prayed that whatever it was, it wouldn’t get her killed.

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  Epilogue

  Tempest

  “Close your eyes and lift your hands over your head,” Nyx commanded.

  Tempest did as she was told and smiled as soft, heavy fabric cascaded over her arms and head, falling to her feet. Nyx’s hands tugged at the back of her dress, and Tempest heard the sound of the laces being pulled.

  “Now you can look.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection.

  The gown was black.

  Tempest lifted her arms and admired the bell sleeves that fell to the floor. The straps rested on the edges of her shoulders, showing off her collarbone and neck. She smiled as her fingers traced the small crystal stars embroidered onto the dress.

  It was perfect. Simple but elegant.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked as Nyx fussed with her hair.

  Her soon-to-be sister smiled and clipped back a lock of Tempest’s hair with a diamond hair pin. “Pyre had it commissioned months ago.”

  Tempest’s stomach flipped. “He had this made for me?”

  Nyx paused and met Tempest’s gaze in the mirror. “Did you think he’d dress you in a cast-off gown for your mating ceremony?”

  “I was ready to marry in my traveling clothes,” she admitted, a blush heating her cheeks.

  “And they call us barbarians.” Her friend grinned and hugged her from behind. “Are you ready?”

  She smiled, butterflies taking flight in her belly. “Yes.”

  Nyx took her by the hand and led her out into the hallway. Her pulse picked up as they rounded a corner and six men came into view.

  Maxim, Dima, Briggs, Brine, Damien, and her father.

  “How?” Tempest choked out, heat pressing at the back of her eyes as they approached the men who’d become her family.