The Passionate Queen (Dark Queens Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

had already begun to dry, causing the filthy rags to stick to my flesh; the mere act of taking it off caused the lacerations to tear open again and seep fresh blood.
    Ragoth would be in a fury if he saw me this way. The thought of my boy made me quiver. I should not go see him today, not like this. He hated to see me hurt, and each time he did, his temper only got worse.
    My boy was hardly a boy anymore. His powers grew more immense with each day that passed. I did not like my captors, nor did I wish them well, but I desperately wanted Ragoth to remain my secret from the world.
    A shuffling behind me broke me from my thoughts. If I dawdled much longer, Zerelda would come snooping around.
    Bracing myself as best I could for the shock of the icy waters, I still cried when I stepped in and it covered me up to my small breasts.
    Even the dancing lights of fairies in the skies above failed to bring a smile to my face tonight. It hurt when I turned my neck to the side, and my ribs ached fiercely. Each breath was a labor; she’d probably broken a rib. But she’d broken them before.
    The beauty—Zerelda had once told me—of my morphism was that at the point of my blooming, I was like new. Any pains, any hurts I’d received before the change would simply vanish. Forever altered to become the perfect companion to a future mate.
    It was for that reason that I knew she took gleeful delight in hurting me. She was the more powerful of the two of us, and yet somewhere deep down inside in an ugly, spiteful place in her heart, I knew she resented my beauty. Resented who I was, a mere product of happenstance.
    Skin crawling with goose bumps, I swallowed two deep breaths and then sank beneath the waters to retrieve the wild turnips she’d requested.
    By the time I pulled myself out, I was wheezing from the cold and feeling as though I’d never again know warmth.
    I’d tarried as long as I’d dared. Zerelda wouldn’t sleep without her turnip poultice in place. Moving as fast as my feet could carry me, I made a very quick detour to my small garden. I’d seeded the soil years ago with wild wolfsbane, making sure to keep it well away from Zerelda’s watchful eye.
    Snatching up another handful, I frowned at my pitiful yield. I’d already run through half of the bane this season. Too much more of this, and I’d be unable to slip out to see my friend.
    Thankfully, I was mere weeks away from my seventeenth year and soon to be out from under the witch’s evil eye.
    Tucking the plant beneath my left armpit, I kept that arm firmly glued to my side and raced back as quickly as I could with Zerelda’s turnips. Wild turnips were small and difficult to peel.
    By the time I’d finished crafting her poultice, my fingertips were bleeding. She lay in the middle of her bed, a withered old hag with her shift rucked up around her skeletal hips.
    “C’mon then,” she snapped, “put it on. The rains are coming, and this hip is paining me.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” I tipped my head and zoned out, going to my happy place.
    The only place in all of Kingdom that I could still find any happiness in. The only place that never failed to lift my spirits. The copse where Ragoth awaited me even now.
    I layered the greasy, smelly concoction onto her hip, placed a bit of moss over the top of it to pack it in good, smoothed her shift back down, and nodded.
    Her nose curled. I knew I’d get no thank you for it. “You still smell of filth,” she snapped.
    I could have told her that it was the pig lard, turnip, and mud mixture she’d forced me to make her that made me smell so, but I didn’t.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Rolling her eyes, she pointed a gnarled finger at the door. “Go away, and do not disturb me. Tell Hagar to set before your door.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Turning swiftly on my heel, I walked from the room, keenly feeling the lapse of time. He’d leave me. He’d leave. Of the times I was able to show I’d never caused him to wait longer than