A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(13)

Actually, I AM hopelessly na?ve. Other than our encounters, I haven’t done much more than missionary without the candles lit and an occasional finger up his bum to make him jump/spur him on. (I never could tell which that unsuspecting finger would result in.) So please don’t make fun of me. I’m suddenly regretful.

Many kisses,

Finley

The end.

The end.

The end.

The end!!!



I gathered the regular everlass I’d come to collect, stowed it away, and quickly headed out. I wanted time to read before I had to call it a night. The book on dogs would likely put me to sleep, and so that should be my book of choice, but the other promised to be full of action and fun and excitement, and I couldn’t wait to get to it.



“Finley. It’s time to get up.” Sable slapped me on the forehead.

I flinched before blinking my groggy eyes open, catching her staring down at me.

“Go away.” I gave her a shove.

“No. Hannon said to make sure you get up. You need to be an active member of this household and village. People are counting on you. Get up!” She slapped me on the forehead again, then zipped away squealing laughter before I could get my foot out to kick her.

I rubbed my eyes and then stretched. I’d stayed awake way too late again last night. The book he’d picked this time was so much better than the last. The adventure aspect was unparalleled, and the slow-burn romance had me turning the pages like fire. I was halfway through, and there’d barely been a kiss, but the sexual tension leapt off the pages.

Groaning, I rolled out of bed and headed to the wash shed and my version of coffee.



Later that day, after convincing Old Man Fortety that I did intend to end his suffering, though I neglected to say how, I gave him a weakened crowded nulling elixir and left Hannon to it. Just like with Father, I couldn’t stand to see someone die from one of my supposed remedies. Call me a coward, but some things I wasn’t sure I would come back from.

I used the waiting time to stop by the library. I couldn’t stop giggling when I returned the book on trees, reminded of the way Nyfain had crossed out the word poison. He wasn’t wrong. The author had slyly inserted information about various poisons in between the sections about trees.

I grabbed the book I’d be sending Nyfain’s way next—after I knew how he liked my comments. Talking dirty—or writing dirty—was new to me, and while I was immensely turned on by it, there was a large possibility that I sounded like an idiot. Time would tell. I doubted he’d come out and tell me if he didn’t like it, but I’d certainly be able to tell from his comments.

On my way through the village square to deposit my library book at home, I noticed a few of Jedrek’s “bros” standing in a cluster near the open door of the pub. It was early for them to be crowded around like barflies, waiting to see which available (or not-so-available) woman they’d try to take home. As I passed, their volume dimmed, and their eyes shifted toward me.

Tingles crawled up my spine at their various expressions. Most were conniving and smug, like they knew a secret about me. Obviously this could be traced back to Jedrek, but I didn’t like the fact that they looked so gleeful. One, a weasel-faced dipshit that was dumb as rocks, smirked before looking down my body in a suggestive but condescending way. It was the sort of look guys gave a woman when they thought their bro owned that pussy. One that suggested the woman held zero power in the dynamic.

What was Jedrek planning that these clowns thought would come to pass? Clearly he thought he had me somehow.

Cold dripped down my spine as I remembered his ridiculous talk about the demon king. He thought I’d tried to make a deal for my father’s life, as if anyone from this village could even reach the demon king.

Sure, Nyfain had suggested that I do that very thing—bargain for an escape—but the how of it was still very vague and half-formed. I struggled to believe someone as dense as Jedrek could have figured it out.

Still, that didn’t mean he hadn’t consulted with the demons in town. And if they went to the castle to ask questions, the answers would lead right back to me.

The question was, would the demons care? Their goal was to torment Nyfain. Maybe I was only relevant when I was his captive.

Then again, they knew that I was an easy way to get to him. Maybe they’d thought he’d killed me. Hearing that I was still alive and had escaped, or, worse, that he’d let me go…

Inside, my guts were twisting, but I stalked away like nothing bothered me.

“Hey.” I barged into Old Man Fortety’s house, emotions roiling.

Hannon glanced up from the couch, cookbook in hand. He’d always been able to read me, so it came as no surprise when he immediately tensed. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, maybe nothing. How is Old Man Fortety?”

“You tried to cure me, didn’t you, you rotten, good-for-nothing little heathen,” Fortety yelled out through the open bedroom door, crotchety as ever. “I’m feeling better, aren’t I? Yes, I am! You lied to me! Never trust a woman. Haven’t I always said never trust a woman? I thought you were different, Finley Mosgrove.”

I smiled in at him and then closed the door. His ranting continued.

“It worked,” I surmised, too distraught to feel happy.

“It continues to, yes, though if you were ever going to do an oops, he would’ve been the best contender for it. What happened?”