Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Aurelia
O nce we’ve clambered onto our horses, Bastien guides his to the south with a jerk of his head for me to follow. “I’ll get you there as quickly as I can. My recollection of the route is a bit hazy, but… We’ve had to lead search parties down to the Erlich Morass a few times, looking for civilians who’ve gone missing. It’s not the safest of places.”
As we set off at a trot, a shiver passes over my skin. “ Should I have insisted on bringing my guards?”
“I doubt they’d have been much help unless they’ve spent time in southern Cotea before. It’s not marauders we need to watch out for but sinkholes and murkpits.”
I grimace. “Sounds lovely. We’ll have to hope the josemine is growing close to the fringes.”
Bastien shoots me an affectionate glance. “I’ll get you through.” He pauses, a hint of redness creeping up his pale neck. “I was always too scared to go right into the swamp when I was a kid, but I memorized all the cautionary measures. And I’ve tackled much more frightening things since then. A bog is nothing next to Marclinus.”
I can’t restrain a snort at the comparison.
The prince pulls ahead of me on the road to better serve as a guide. He sets as fast a pace as the horses can handle without exhausting them, making conversation nearly impossible.
A knot of apprehension lingers in my gut, but the fresh late-summer air tickling over my skin is even more refreshing than when it gusted through the carriage windows. The pastoral fields around us are as soothing a scene as I could have asked for.
Just this once, I’m roaming the world free from my husband and his agents. I might have the horror of Linus’s challenge weighing on me, but I can rock with the horse’s strides and drink in the scents of grass and wildflowers without wondering how I look to anyone else.
My only companion is one I trust with my whole self, not just the portrait of an empress I have to give everyone else.
It’s been a while since I spent much time on horseback. By the time a stretch of water-logged terrain comes into view up ahead, my thighs and ass are aching. I suspect the journey back will be torture.
At least I’ll be making it knowing I have everything I need.
Amid the pools and strips of stagnant water, patches of the reeds I saw in my godlen-given vision sprout up, their ruddy cattails waving in the breeze. More unusual structures protrude here and there amid them, looking like giant orange vases veined with streaks of yellow.
Bastien has slowed, so I draw my horse up next to his. “What are those orange plants?”
He gives a dark laugh. “Frog pitchers. They don’t move, but you wouldn’t want to stick your arm in one. They ‘eat’ anything that’ll hop or fly into them, even if it’s as big as your fist.”
I can’t make out any of the josemine flowers we’re searching for at this distance. As I scan the bog, a danker odor reaches my nose on the wind—still green but with a hint of decay.
We tie the horses to a tree several paces from the first muddy patches. Bastien eases closer, studying the damp ground.
He points to a pool of pale muck. “You want to avoid the lighter muddy spots. Those are particularly viscous. And watch out for areas with a lot of crumpled reeds while none or only a few are still standing. Those are often covering sinkholes. But I’ll go first. You just stay right behind me, and we’ll be fine.”
“All right.” I hitch up my dress and tuck the hem into my drawers so the folds of the skirt only fall to my knees rather than dragging. The murky, decaying smell has thickened, seeping into my lungs.
Bastien sets out along a solid strip of land, brushing aside the reeds that jut up from it. I follow his path. Even the firmer ground here squishes unnervingly beneath my leather slippers.
What I wouldn’t give for some proper walking boots right now.
In my vision, I saw the josemine popping up at the base of the patches of reeds. As we weave along the edge of the bog, I crane my neck to peer around the stalks, searching for any speck of white.
“I suppose they’re not all that common even in a bog,” I mutter after several minutes trudging across the muck.
Bastien glances over his shoulder at me with a grimace of sympathy. “I think it may be a little late in the season for the blooms. But I’m sure we can find them somewhere here. Your gift wouldn’t have shown you them in blossom if you couldn’t find them that way, would it?”
“I don’t think so.” I wish I had more certainty than that. “The gods’ magic works in mysterious ways sometimes.”
“That it does. But it can also make our journey a little more pleasant.”
We’ve just come up on one of the orange frog pitchers, which stands as tall as my waist. A sourer, putrid scent carries from within the vase-like plant—for just a moment. Before my stomach can give more than a brief lurch, a gust of wind sweeps in from the fields behind us, washing away the worst of the bog’s odors.
Bastien is putting his gift to use too, to make this trek more bearable for me.
With a pang of affection, I step closer to rest my hand on his back. Bastien swivels to meet my gaze, and his own darkens.
There’s no one around to see or care that a man who’s not my husband leans in to kiss me.
When our lips ease apart, he keeps his hand by my cheek. His tone comes out dry. “This isn’t the part of Cotea where I’d have wanted to arrange an interlude with you. Lorenzo gets a cruise—I offer you a swamp.”
I tip my forehead against his. “I’d rather be here with you than back in that fancy palace with Marclinus.”
As we walk on, Bastien’s strides look steadier. He keeps one arm stretched back toward me so we can clasp hands, weaving through the cattails together.
“Have any of our courtiers already tried to get your ear?” he asks.
“We only just arrived.”
“They’re not the most patient lot. Although I’d imagine they’ll mostly focus on Marclinus rather than you when you haven’t had much time to establish yourself as a source of power. Of course, the speech you gave might change that if you come back with a cure as planned.”
I cock my head. “Is gaining their interest a good thing or a bad thing? If they have any kind of sway with your family, I’ll want them on my side.”
Bastien makes a derisive sound. “Most of the courtiers are only on their own side. They’ll look for sway wherever they can get it—but they’ll happily circumvent or even undermine what’s best for the governing of the country to line their pockets or inflate their grandeur.”
My fingers tighten around his. “And your parents let them get away with it?”
He lifts his shoulders in a subtle shrug. “There isn’t much they can do about it. In a way, it’s our own fault. Innovation and diversity of thought have always been cornerstones of Cotean identity. We can’t encourage those principles and then tell people they have to follow the party line.”
“But to go behind their own king’s back to make a deal with the empire…” Surely they don’t interfere in any way that’s too damaging?
Bastien exhales in a rush of a sigh. He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t as if our royal family has been able to accomplish all that much on our country’s behalf in centuries anyway. The courtiers probably see it as more efficient to go straight to the source of real authority.”
I wince at the truth in his words, but I can’t help protesting all the same. “Having their own nobles working at counter purposes will only make it harder for your family to rule.”
Bastien tosses me another smile. “Perhaps you’ll be the one to convince them of that.”
“How much do they hassle you?” I ask as we walk on. “As part of the Cotean royal family imbedded in the Darium court, you must?—”
I stop at the shake of Bastien’s head. He doesn’t look back at me this time. “They tried, when I was quite a bit younger. The courtiers figured out pretty early on that I had no real sway with the emperor—and that I wasn’t willing to gamble what little security I did have making questionable deals.”
That sounds perfectly reasonable to me, but the prince’s tone is self-deprecating, as if he thinks it was a fault of his. I squeeze his hand. “You had much bigger—and more meaningful—plans to protect.”
“As long as those dreams lasted. But they did hold me through long enough to join in yours.” He pauses, and a wider grin crosses his face. “I think I see some of your josemine!”
We take a roundabout route between several spans of pale mud and matted reeds to reach the clump of cattails where he spotted the delicate white flowers. As I crouch down and start plucking the blossoms, my breath flows easier into my lungs.
I’ve gotten what we came for. We’ll be able to go back victorious.
Back to the man who didn’t seem to care whether I drowned in this bog.
Maybe that thought drags at me more than I realize. Or maybe it’s simply an unfortunate twist of fate. Either way, I wrap a couple of handfuls of josemine blossoms in wax cloth, tuck the bundle in my pouch, and set off after Bastien back toward our horses.
I’d swear I walk along the exact same path he does, but as he hops across a rivulet ahead of us, I set down one foot—and the soggy ground gives way under my heel.
My other foot jerks backward in an instinctive motion to catch my balance. It plants on a chunk of matted reeds that immediately plunges down beneath me.
My first foot slides with it. I crash into the lukewarm water.
A yelp breaks from my throat. As Bastien whips around, I snatch at the nearest reeds, at the firmer ground I slipped off. The surface beneath me keeps plummeting with a tug of my feet as if it’s dragging me down.
Bastien dives forward. Sprawling on his stomach, he throws his arms around me, catching me under my armpits just before my shoulders tumble beneath the surface.
“I’ve got you,” he says in a ragged voice.
I try to kick myself closer to him, but my feet can barely move. The tug I felt before keeps hauling me downward.
“My feet,” I gasp out. “They’re stuck—it’s pulling me into the water.”
Bastien’s arms lock even more firmly around me, though they’re submerged to his elbows now. “The reeds lift up and get tangled. Stay still for a moment. Just hold on to me.”
Resisting every instinct to thrash, I force my legs to stop moving. The pressure remains, but the tug lightens a little.
“Good.” Bastien keeps his voice even, but he can’t erase the rasp from it. “Now wiggle your feet just a little. Tiny movements, until you feel the grip loosening.”
I twitch my feet this way and that. The tugging sensation shifts, clinging to my slippers. With a few more furtive movements, one of the shoes slides right off my foot—and the reeds’ grip leaves with it.
The frantic thumping of my heart eases just a tad. With several more cautious wriggles, I free my other foot, losing its slipper as well. “All right, I think I’m untangled.”
“Here we go.” Bastien squirms backward, dragging me with him. As soon as I can press my own arms against the solid stretch of earth, I haul myself out of the water as quickly as possible.
I collapse amid the reeds next to Bastien, my sopping dress clinging to my limbs. A hitch has come into his breath. My own lungs have constricted.
An echo of the water’s chill and the drag on my ankles reverberates through me. The impression of the deep darkness I was nearly pulled into floods my mind.
If Bastien hadn’t been here, if he hadn’t acted so quickly, I’d almost certainly have died. The sinkhole would have swallowed me whole.
A sob I didn’t know was coming breaks from my throat.
Fuck Linus. Fuck Marc too, for letting his twin carry on his sadistic plans.
Fuck the entire empire for standing by while the rulers of Dariu sow pain and sorrow everywhere they go.
“Hey.” Bastien wraps his arms around me more gently this time and nestles me in his embrace. “You’re okay. We got through it. I’m right here, and I’m never letting you go.”
Gods above, how I wish that was true. He’s going to have to let me go in most of the ways that count the moment we’re back within view of the court.
Another sob rises up. The only way I can smother it is by pressing my lips to his.
Bastien kisses me back hard, the heat of his mouth searing away the worst of the anguish. I soak up that warmth as if I’m starving for it—and perhaps I am.
I don’t know how to let him go. One of my hands tangles in his wayward hair, my other arm looping around his neck. Through each scorching kiss, my body presses closer against him.
Bastien seems to recognize the desperation wrenching at me, and he takes charge as only he can. He clasps my face between his hands, melding his mouth to mine and then meeting my gaze with a command in his. “Get rid of your drawers.”
I don’t think, just wriggle out of the drenched fabric. Bastien pulls me down to straddle his lap. His lips brand my jaw and my neck while his hands roam across my breasts, sparking heat wherever they touch.
With a jerk of his trousers, he releases his cock. “Take me,” he orders, and there’s nothing I’d rather do than comply.
As I sink down onto him, both our chests hitch. The hot stretch of his cock has never felt more vital. I press myself onto him, welcoming him as far as he can go.
Bastien groans and tucks his head next to mine. He squeezes my ass before guiding me up and down over his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet my sex.
The words spill out of him like a vow. “I’ll always be there for you. No matter how much distance there has to be between us. We’re as twined together in our souls as our bodies are right now, and no one, not even an emperor, can break that bond. You’ll remember that. You’ll stay as strong as I know you are.”
“I’ll remember,” I promise, and whimper as he plunges even deeper inside. A shudder runs through my body. I can’t stop myself from clutching him tighter.
Bastien’s teeth graze the side of my neck. He bucks up into me, heedless of the roughening of his breath. “That’s right. You hold on to me, always. This is what matters. This is who we are.”
Not the parts we play in front of the court. Not the fronts we have to keep even with our own families.
Right now, despite soaked clothes and deadly bog around us, I’m more alive than I’ve been in weeks.
Bastien trails his hand down from my chest to my clit, stroking me right above the spot where we’re joined. My moan fragments with the surge of my release.
I quake over him, pleasure searing through every nerve. It flares even hotter when I feel him join me.
I ease to a stop still caught in his embrace. Bastien gathers me close while his labored breath evens out, dappling gentler kisses along the sides of my face.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
I choke up. “I love you too.”
I can’t resist one last, lingering kiss. Then I force myself to clamber off him and retrieve my drawers.
At a panicked thought, I open up the pouch on my belt. A little water spills out, but when I unwrap the josemine blossoms, I find the waxy paper has protected them from the sudden dunking.
Bastien offers me his hand. His clothes are as mud-stained and damp as my own, but I don’t think I could imagine a more gallant figure. “Let’s get you out of this bog.”
I draw my posture up straight with a hardening of my resolve. “And back to Delphine. I have an antidote to brew.”