Chapter 32 Making An Heir

Chapter 32 Making An Heir
“My lady— forgive me, my queen — do you want me to put more white powder on your face?”

I huffed, already annoyed, “Yes, Lydia, go ahead. Pour the whole bowl on me so I can turn into a ghost. Maybe that cruel man will get a heart attack when he sees me.”

Lydia winced like I slapped her. “My queen, if the grand queen hears you again, she will be furious. You’re a queen now, please stop speaking like a thug.”

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost flew out. Know my place?
My place was with my parents, in my own home, eating fruits in the garden, laughing without fear. Not here. Not in this giant cold palace where I knew no one except Lydia.

“There,” she whispered after fixing the last powder. “You look amazing, my queen.”

Amazing. Right.
My heart was pounding so loud it echoed in my ears. Tonight was the consummation of our marriage — and to make things worse, the royal court would be sitting and watching like it was some play. Humiliation served on a royal golden plate.

Thunder, please. Strike me. Knock me unconscious. Let me skip this whole nightmare.

“Maybe there’s a way to stop this, Lydia? Maybe you tell them I’m sick? Like severely sick?”

She looked at me like I suddenly grew two heads. “My queen, that is immature. And low. Rumors spread fast here. Do you want people thinking you ran away on your first night?”

“Fine,” I said, but my stomach twisted so hard I could faint. My fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting.
I had zero experience with men. Not even a single kiss. I might as well be a block of wood.

Then a loud voice: “The Queen is being summoned to the king’s chambers.”

The doors opened, servants bowed.
Lydia gulped. “Am I allowed to go with her?”

Please say yes. Please.

“No lady in waiting is allowed,” the servant said, eyes on me.

Great. Abandoned. I walked slower than a dying snail, sweat dripping down my temples and the sides of my face.

“Your Majesty, the queen has arrived,” a guard announced as they opened the chamber doors.

I swear my soul almost escaped my body.

Cillian wasn’t in bed.
No, he was in a huge wooden pool — more like an indoor lake — water shimmering around him. And he was shirtless.

Shirtless.
Lord have mercy.

I slapped my hand over my eyes so fast I almost poked myself. His body glistened under the dim lights, and his scent… warm, fresh, clean… it hit me instantly.

“Close the door,” Cillian said, voice calm but commanding.

I stared up at the ceiling to avoid seeing anything I shouldn't.

“Why are you still standing? Come.”

I pretended I didn’t hear him and hummed a random tune like some confused bird.

“Rinoa.”
His voice sharpened — irritated.

“Yes?” I clutched my chest like that would protect me.

He motioned for me to join him in the water.
I shook my head so fast my hair flapped. “No. I don’t like dipping into water. I’ll just… stand here.”

A low grunt escaped him.
“I guess I have to punish your lady in waiting for failing to teach you the palace etiquette.”

Punish?
Lydia?

My heart exploded with anger. “You will not do that,” I snapped like a dragon breathing fire.

He leaned his elbow on the edge, hand under his chin.
I stupidly copied the motion, glaring.

“Like what you see, wife?”

My jaw dropped. Wife? He had the nerve? What a strange, two-faced man.

“Uhm, nothing I haven’t seen before,” I lied so badly the heavens probably cringed.
I had never seen a half-naked man. Ever.

Only King Cillian.
Right now.
Only him.

Then he stood up.

Water slid down his toned abdomen, his hips, his chest. His lower half was only covered by white silk that didn’t hide much.

“Where are you going?” I blurted, voice cracking. I was seconds away from fainting.

His dark eyes locked onto mine. “I’m going to carry you from where you’re standing… to where I want you to be.”

“And… where is that?” I asked, staring somewhere — anywhere — except at him.

“Beside me.”

Dominating. Confusing. Annoying. And worse — attractive. I hated that I found him attractive.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing, like I was a feather he picked off the ground.

“Cillian…”
My hands landed on his shoulders, then his chest. My lips accidentally brushed his skin and I nearly died inside.

“Are they watching? Is that why you’re acting extra caring?” I asked, eyes squinting as his steps splashed water.

“No one is watching us,” he said as he sat down in the water, placing me on his lap like I belonged there.

“What? No one?”

“Yes. I told them all to leave. I wanted our first night alone.”

I tried to wriggle off him. No use. His grip on my waist was firm.

“You can let me go now,” I said, staring at a random lamp on the ceiling.

“No.”
His voice was closer. “Why do you always avoid looking at me? Do I have a disease?”

No. But he was more dangerous than any disease known to man.

If only he knew.
If only I dared say it.

“You’re a stranger," I whispered. “I don’t even know you. And you’re the king.”

He smirked. “I’m your husband. And I’m about to see the things a husband must see.”

I choked on my own breath. Husband? I wanted to spit on him.

I covered my chest with my arms and shut my eyes.
He flicked my nose.

“What was that for?”

His eyes darkened with mischief. “Don’t worry, my queen. I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

“Are you really following the rule of—”

He raised a brow.

I tried to focus but his warm chest was touching my skin and my sanity was slipping. “The rule of, uhm… intimacy.”

“You mean making an heir?” His voice was husky and dangerous.

I swallowed. Hard.

He reached for my hair and tucked the strands behind my ears.My whole body shivered.

“Cillian… let me go back to my quarters.”

“No. We have a lot of practice to do.”

I stared at him, horrified. “Practice?”

He smirked. “Making an heir.”

His words fell over me like a nightmare crawling under my skin.

How would I survive this?

How would I survive him?