His rough fingers scratched her skin and spread wide over her buttocks. He squeezed her soft flesh and pulled her closer. With bruising force, his hardness pressed into her thigh. Too rough.

Eleanor squirmed and pushed against his chest. This wasn't what she wanted. Earth, any moment, sobs would break free. She held her breath to stop them.

"I'll be gentler. Turn over," he whispered. "I'll show you love." But he hid whatever he planned to do.

She should throw him out but his glimmer of a smile reminded her of the man he used to be. Confident, playful and kind.

"Trust me."

She wanted to. He couldn't truly hurt her. This wasn't real. Eleanor exhaled slowly and rolled away from him.

When his body curled up behind hers, she expected him to grind against her, like he had in the parlor but he didn't. Gently, he kissed her neck and caressed the sensitive skin between her fingers. He inhaled her scent and let her feel what she did to him.

Urges to plunge into her, tortured his mind. The plush flesh of her buttocks tempted him, yet he remained still. His cock twitched and his abs trembled. The electric sparks from her skin lit his nerves and tensed his body rigid.

But like an innocent, he held her hand and nuzzled her neck.

He made her ache. Half of her wanted warm snuggles with just a hint of his lips on her skin. The other half, her lower half, wanted his fingers to prod between her thighs while his ready cock pumped deep into her.

He was propped up on an elbow as his gaze fell to the swell of her breasts. She'd always feared they were too small but his desire to touch and taste her soothed the insecurity away.

"They're perfect," he whispered.

His breath tickled her ear and she arched hard against his cock.

He sucked in breath through his teeth. "You enjoy torturing me."

A little. With a sly grin, she lifted the back of her nightshirt. Take off your pants.

He abandoned her hand to grip her bare hip, as if to prevent her from pressing up against him. "This is the limit of my self control, Ellie. Don't push me."

"Why not? None of this is real. No consequences."

His grip left her and she feared he'd leave their dream world but he didn't. Instead, he pushed off his pants and spooned her, nude, his rough grip returned to her hip.

Sticky honey gushed from her.

His cock pushed up between her cheeks and his fingers snaked between her thighs. Effortlessly, he found her hardened pearl and slid past to drench his fingertips in her honey.

Eleanor squirmed to force his fingers and cock where she wanted them but he took control.

"Not yet."

He wet her clothed and beaded nipples with her honey. Her slicked nightshirt clung and slipped beneath his kneading touch. Oh, she wanted him to lick and suck it off.

He groaned. "Next time."

Before she could beg, his hips rolled below her pert buttocks. In one quick thrust, he speared her, filling her. Deep inside, bare, his cock throbbed. The thick ridge of the head and every bulging vein stroked her slick and swollen hole. His thumbs dug into her hips as his groin slapped her bottom with each hard pump.

She arched up and clenched her cheeks to his rhythm. Electric current grew with each stroke. She squeezed his cock, silently begging him to push her into ecstasy.

He flicked her pearl with his finger and she fell into his murky sea. She thrashed against him, drowning in sparks. He pounded into her, grunting, demanding more. But his mind pulled away from hers and she tried to follow, desperate for release. She ached, hard and trembling. So close. Just a little more and the sparks would blaze. "Please, Erick."

But he didn't hear her. He searched for a way out.

Then she realized why. He needed more. It didn't feel real enough.

She threw away the magical light and chiming crystals. Near-darkness fell over them to mimic real life with its desolate cold and threadbare sheets.

He jerked his pants off again and lifted up a fresh nightshirt, as if they'd reappeared. His imagination had split off on another track, distant from hers.

Eleanor struggled to catch up but arrived too late.

He spasmed, grip tight around her, while he spurted hot cream deep inside. The last tremor emptied him.

His body should have relaxed and his mind stilled but he jerked away, rigid. Earth, what did I do? He stumbled out of bed in a tangle of sheets. His eyes squeezed shut as he struggled free. If she becomes pregnant, it's over. Elves will slaughter me and take the throne if Henry doesn't kill me first. What if Violet reads this? I meant to be faithful. This wasn't supposed to happen, not with her.

Her chest sank, crushed by his regret. Tears blurred her vision, stung her cheeks and salted her mouth.

Eleanor shoved his mind back to reality and rolled over to face him. "You can't even fake love?" she screamed. How could she have been so stupid?

He lay there, unmoving, startled beside her.

She kicked and pushed him away. "Get out."

He sat up and felt the front of his pants, apparently reassuring himself that he hadn't fucked her. "Wait, Ellie. That's not why I came here. I need your help." His eyes shimmered in the dim firelight.

"What?" How dare he? As if she would help him now.

"You can sense everyone in the palace, right?"

"So what. Get out."

"I need her. Please. Where is she?"

This again? How could he be so blind? "Why?" He wouldn't believe her anyway. "I love her, Ellie."

"You don't know what love is." She sat up and threw a pillow at him.

"I know it isn't chocolate-covered caramel. It isn't sex. It isn't sparks and light. When she looks inside me, she makes me feel whole. She sees me as something more than I am and I'd do anything to be that man. I'm not a king with her. Everything fades away and I feel wanted. I could say anything and she'd still want me. Things I would never tell anyone. I'm hers. I need that, Ellie."

A sob emptied her lungs and she couldn't breathe. That's what she'd needed to hear. She'd waited so long for him.

"I'm not like you, Ellie. I can't shove everyone away and be happy."

"Stop. Don't ruin it." She wiped away her tears and tried to steady her breath. "What if you don't like what you see when the mask comes off?"

"I don't care what she looks like."

Eleanor couldn't stop a smile from lifting her face. She tried to hide it away but it wouldn't leave. A giggly feeling pushed on her lungs. "You'd have to face some fears for her."

"I don't care. I'm not afraid of her." "Are you afraid of me?"

When he didn't answer right away, she wished she hadn't asked. Hope fell and dragged her smile down with it.

"No." He lied.

Deflated, she motioned to the door, gaze dropped from him. "I can't help you. Go away."

"Wait, Ellie. I trust in you. Please. I'll give you what you want if you'll do me this favor. You can oversee repairs to the palace. You'll have whatever funds I can spare."

The palace could use some fresh paint and lacquer. Some walls needed restructuring.

"Please. I don't have much time left. My last days should be with her."

What had he done? She scanned his offered memories and grimaced. "Earth, Erick. Why don't you let me fix that?"

"How?'

He wouldn't like the answer. It would be better to wait until after he lifted the mask, assuming he didn't panic and push her away. Maybe given time to fall deeper for her, he could accept his fate. "Just don't aggravate them any more for a few weeks. Months. No, wait until summer before you send any more messages." Would that be enough time?

He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled a harsh puff. "Hell, if you could just find her for me, I'd be happy. That'd be enough. But if you can get me out of this mess, I'll be eternally grateful, Ellie."

Maybe. Hopefully. She couldn't lose any more, could she? But could he risk what little he had, for her? How deep did his trust truly run?

Chapter Fifteen.

December 26, 9544 AR

Valetta, Biston

Something pounded next door and knocked loose centuries-old grime onto his face. Erick bolted up from bed, coughing and cursing. What the hell was that?

He tried to brush the filth from his face and chest but managed only to smear it.

Another pound and clang rumbled the walls. More grime sprinkled from the ceiling and mortared bricks. Whatever it was, it could crumble the palace. Were they under siege? The stench of sulfur and ash fouled the air.

Reiley. He must have had troops waiting in Biston. Son of a bitch.

Erick snatched his sword from the scabbard fixed to his nightstand. He kicked open a rarely used door, expecting Porteran soldiers to rush him. But the door crashed against the wall and bounced halfway closed, without resistance. No one caught it.

Two of Eleanor's guards lay passed out on the floor. No wounds marked their pressed uniforms or fresh-shaven faces. Blood didn't pool. Not even enemy soldiers stood over them.

"Morning," a woman's voice bubbled. What the...?

Eleanor's smiling face popped out from behind the door with a playfulness he hadn't seen in years. "I couldn't sleep, so I started early." She disappeared behind the door.

No one should be in this room. The queen's quarters had been empty nearly all his life. What was she doing?

Erick pushed the door completely open with the flat of his blade. Her remaining, conscious guards stepped into view and stiffly bowed. However, their gazes remained fixed on Eleanor.

Against the right wall, slender steel cylinders extended up from a hole in the floor, into a large, glazed planter and up the wall into the ceiling. A trough sat beside it. A trough? "What is this? What happened to them?" Erick motioned to the two men on the floor.

"Oh, a pipe hit them. An accident. They're fine." Blanket wrapped tightly around her, clutched in her fist, she bounced excitedly. "Now, I know it isn't fancy yet." She dropped her blanket to pick up an enameled pot, which she lowered into a hole atop a dresser with a less than feminine grunt. "But it works for now. The potter in town is making something nicer but it won't be finished until summer. He has to build a bigger oven to glaze a tub. But look." She practically danced to the trough to turn the knob attached to a steel cylinder. Water spurted, then gushed out to splash the bottom of the steel trough. "And," she pulled a cord, which tipped a lever above the large planter. Water babbled in the planter like in the automated honey buckets of Gildon.

Why had she done this? Was this what woke him? Where was the fire? He glanced about for what stank up the room but not even the fireplace glowed.

"Sorry. No, that's from me." She held up her hand, murmured harsh, foreign words and fire, real fire burned from her hand complete with smoke.

"Wizardry." Shit. That's what made the rank odor.

Her smile fell and she snuffed out the flame with her other hand. "I used it to weld the pipes. Bradley had the spell, when I..." She let the sentence drift and her gaze fell from him to the unconscious men being carried out by her alert guards.

"This is wonderful," Phil proclaimed from the door. He strolled in past Ellie's guards, as if in a magical realm.

Ellie's smile returned. "I figured Erick's queen wouldn't mind."

Erick choked on his saliva and coughed it out. What queen? Did she mean Violet?

"I'll make something next to your room too. Let me just finish the sink here," she said to Phil and dropped to her knees beside the hollowed-out dresser.

The man who she'd saved from execution stepped forward from the shadows. "I can do that, Lady Barona." He held a strange glass contraption filled with something that smelled even worse than wizardry.

This was her version of a punishment? She was supposed to torture the thief.

Phil helped her up and wrapped the blanket back around her shoulders. Blue tinted her fingernails like polish. She must have used quite a bit of magic to weld all that metal. She should be navy-colored.

"In the spring, I can grow some vines into an elven pattern to make a screen to hide the pipes," she prattled, blue eyes twinkling.

Earth, when Erick had said she could oversee repairs to the palace, he hadn't meant this and he definitely hadn't meant so early in the morning. The deal had been to bring him Violet first. "Did you find her?"

Eleanor's smile fell and her eyes seemed to shrink. "Isn't this nice?" Phil interrupted.

Earth, Violet must have said no. Erick slumped onto the odd toilet. The cold, glazed clay chilled his flesh through the thin fabric of his silk pants but he barely felt it. Something crushed his lungs and he wished it would pierce his heart. Let the elves come.