King Sized

My legs feel like lead weights as I guide Britta up the back staircase. I’m going to leave her alone in her room and think about what I’ve done. I’m certainly not going to think about the fact that she ordered me to have an orgasm—and I loved it. That I craved being ordered about by the little queen. I’m not going to think about it for the next seventy years straight. Seriously.

We reach the hallway where the queen’s bedchamber is located, both of us stopping short. Up ahead, there is a guard pacing, looking confused.

“Oi,” he calls, deflating a little. “There you are, Monroe. I’m guarding the queen tonight or didn’t you remember?”

The queen steps out from behind me and the guard stumbles back, slapping a hand over his heart and bowing. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, I didn’t see you there.”

“Think nothing of it,” Britta says lightly, though there is a line forming between her brows. “What do you mean you’re guarding me tonight?”

“Those were my orders, Your Majesty. Monroe has the night off.”

She blinks up at me.

For a moment, I’m confused as she is. And then I remember the date in a nauseating rush. “Damn. I forgot. It’s Priscilla, my youngest sister’s, sixteenth birthday. I asked for leave from duty for the night. Weeks ago.”

This timing is easily the worst in history.

One does not simply give the queen an orgasm and vanish for the night.

Again, I live with five sisters and Britta’s shifting expressions are telling me everything I need to know. She knows it’s ridiculous to feel abandoned, but she feels it nonetheless. Her chin comes up bravely, but she’s looking past my shoulder. Trying not to let her emotions get the best of her. And lord, I’m so in love with her, it’s excruciating. “Of course. You have to go. Sixteen is a very important birthday for a girl.” She glances toward my replacement, back at me. “Have a lovely time, Mister Monroe, and please send my regards.”

Oh now I just want to follow her into that bedchamber and lick between her legs until she stops speaking to me so formally. She knows her prim goodbye is going to drive me crazy, too, doesn’t she? I’m supposed to serve her. I crave the privilege of serving her. So when she gives me a small smile and closes herself inside the room, I want to roar in frustration.

“Are you off, then?” the guard asks, casually, no sense of the undercurrents between me and the queen, thankfully. “Anything I should know?”

“Yeah. If you set foot inside that room, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t dare. Do you think I fancy a trip to the gallows?”

No. Obviously not.

Apparently I’m planning a trip there, however, because I’m definitely considering sneaking the queen out of the palace, so I can bring her to my sister’s birthday party.

It is a terrible idea.

Terrible.

For one, I’d be putting her in danger. Sure, I would never let harm come to Britta. Not while I’m breathing. But I doubt the palace advisors or the people of Downsriver would see it that way, if we were caught. They would only see me bringing her outside the palace walls, to a place where she could be vulnerable to people who disagree with the decisions of her parents. Or citizens who are simply overzealous in their affection. Men who might try—

Nope.

Can’t even think about.

I’m not doing this.

What was I thinking? Bringing a queen to the modest, thatch-roofed home where I grew up? It smells of cow shit half the time. And my sisters… My God, they would drive her daft with questions about dresses and other nonsense.

No. Not happening.

Not sneaking the queen out to a party, like someone with a death wish.

With that settled, I nod and descend the stone steps…but I pause halfway down.

A party would go a long way toward brightening Britta’s spirits. Doesn’t she deserve that? And the possibility that she might be feeling abandoned is eating me alive. I’ve only been her personal guard for a matter of hours and now I’m skipping out on my duty?

I shove a hand through my hair, let a breath seep out.

Well, if I’m going to sneak her out, I’ll have to be crafty about it.

I take a moment to think, then climb the stairs once more. When I reach the top, my replacement guard does a double-take. “Back so soon? Must have been a shite party.”

“They’re giving out free beer in the courtyard.”

“What?” He shoves off the wall. “Cover my post a tick. I’ll be right back.”

Off he runs.

Well that was easy.

Making a mental note to make sure such an idiot is never put in place to guard Britta again, I knock lightly on the door.

Britta opens it a few seconds later, her long, black hair loose around her shoulders, having been taken out of its bun. She’s so beautiful, her face kissed with candlelight, I have to clear my throat before I can speak. Was I really allowed to perform cunnilingus on this angel? “I, um…” I have to cough again. “Well, this is probably a horrible idea, but I got to wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming to the party with me. You can just say no—”