Chapter 29
W hen morning came, I found two deliveries waiting. The first contained my belongings from the apartment above the bookshop.
An aged trunk sat with my clothes and books.My fighting leathers and weapons were purposely absent. Someone had clearly searched through my possessions for contraband.
Augustus had included my two worn books, along with several other volumes. Among them were new romance novels I hadn't read yet. He'd also packed his precious history books about Sunneva. If he couldn't be here to help me, this was probably the next best thing he could do. His gesture spoke of a quiet, desperate hope that knowledge might protect me where he could not.
I wondered if any of these included information on the prophecy. Though knowing Augustus's views, these would likely contain only the crown-approved version of events.
I pulled one of the few simple dresses from the chest and changed out of the nightgown I'd worn to sleep. The morning light revealed the room's true grandeur, fit for the princess I was meant to become.
The four-poster bed had piles of cream and golden blankets atop it. Each spiral led up to a canopy of pink adorned with a sun. A marble fireplace commanded one wall, flanked by plush chairs.
Two glass doors led out to a small balcony, a promising escape route.
I made a mental note to watch the guard rotations and their sightlines to the balcony.
The wardrobe stood empty when I opened it.
I noted a couple of places that would be good for a weapons stash before placing my sparse belongings and closing the wooden doors. Another door caught my attention to the left of my bed.
As I went to open it, the handle didn't budge. I tried to force it, but still, it did not yield. There were no holes for me to attempt to pick the lock. My instincts screaming danger, I wedged a trinket from the mantle between the door and floor. If someone tried to enter, it would give me a second to act before I found myself a victim in someone else's schemes.
A knock at my door announced my second delivery. Oryn, his expression as murderous as yesterday. My body hummed with awareness as I stumbled back. He seized the opportunity, striding into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Who sent you?" he growled. My heart thundered against my ribs as I fought the urge to summon my shadows.
I arched a brow as he stalked toward me like a predator, his tall frame looming over me with a sneer.
"You expect me to believe this is coincidence?" he demanded, voice rough with hurt. "That we met, shared that night together before you vanished at dawn, cut off all communication, only to appear here as my chosen bride?"
I scoffed, my hands clenching at my sides. The audacity of him to accuse me when he'd been the one to disappear. Typical entitled prince.
"First of all," I snarled, " I didn't ditch you . That would require you actually being there. Secondly, I never chose any of this - not the assessment, not coming here, and certainly not marrying you."
I stumbled away from him to get some distance but he followed me step for step until he cornered me up against a wall. His arm slammed against the wall above me, the smell of citrus enveloped me.
"Is that why you left?" The look of murder eased from his eyes as his other hand toyed with a lock of my hair. "Because you awoke to an empty bed? Why didn't you just tell me when I tried to reach you through our bond? I felt you, heard you before you slammed that door shut."
"I have no idea what game you're playing, your message was loud and clear, Prince Oryn." I tensed as his hand drifted to caress my arm. I cursed myself for leaving my dagger by the bed. Even my shadows would be useless with him pressed so close. "You got what you wanted and promptly left by first light. I'm not sure why I expected anything differently from a captain in a tavern. "
He gripped my chin between his finger and thumb and forced me to look into his deep blue eyes. "I don't know what you think I wanted, but to return to you gone was not that." His words barely registered before his mouth crashed against mine, desperate and demanding. His hand slid to the front of my neck as his tongue coaxed my mouth to open further for him. The need to touch him overwhelmed me, pulling him closer until his entire body pressed me against the wall. That familiar buzz returned to a happy hum with every connection to the prince. How could I make sense of this? If he was upset I had left, if he had returned, why leave in the first place? My thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. I was too lost in the feeling of him, almost drowning in him. The fog in my mind finally cleared enough for me to shove him away. He stared at me confused.
"If you didn't want me to leave, you should've been there. What else was I supposed to think when I woke up alone?"
He raked his hair from his face, taking a step away and faced the room. "I had duties to attend to. And I never thought my mate would flee at first light. I also didn't imagine the first time I used our bond to reach out that you'd cut it off.” He paced slowly before me, his hands waving with flourish with every thought he spoke. “Did it ever occur to you I'd be back? Did you even think to wait for me? I was worried something happened to you."
His response made me pause. "What are you talking about? What do you mean our bond?"
"You're telling me you can't feel this pull between us?" He closes the distance between us, his presence overwhelming my senses.
"The way you call to me is maddening. I sought you everywhere yesterday. From the moment you walked into that tavern, nothing else existed but you. When you tried to leave that night, I meant every word about begging you to stay. The thought of you walking away felt like a blade twisting in my chest. Did you not hear me calling to you that morning?"
The pull to him was undeniable. Like a sickness in my blood since that night, making me speak more than I ever would, drawing me back for more time with him. The devastation when I woke alone had shattered something inside me. I wasn't imagining the voices of both him and Ma?l. Deep in my mind, my consciousness brushed against that door where I'd felt such insistent pounding before. Now only the faintest taps remained.
You should open it, Lor, Ma?l's voice floated to me like a gentle touch, distant but comforting.
I cracked open that mental barrier with trembling caution. A foreign presence rushed in immediately.
There you are, Love. I stared at Oryn's unmoving lips while his voice caressed my mind, intimate and impossible. My heart stuttered in my chest as ice flooded my veins, the reality of what this meant threatening to bring me to my knees.
"Has no one ever told you about mates?" His voice softened, he could sense the storm of emotions coursing through me as memories of our time together flooded back.
The fury in his eyes yesterday had cut deep, yet I couldn't look away from him. My isolated life in the village had left me ignorant of so much. I'd never witnessed a mated pair, never heard whispers of such an overwhelming connection. The pull between us bordered on madness.
In the days after our night together, thoughts of him haunted me like a sweet poison. I'd buried those feelings deep, locked them away where they couldn't torment me. I convinced myself I'd been nothing more than a conquest, a fool dancing to his tune. Yesterday's cold fury was a stark contrast to that night when he'd looked at me like I held all the stars in my hands.
He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, releasing a heavy breath before capturing my hands in his warm grip.
"Gods, I wanted to hate you. What else could I think when you vanished, when you rejected our bond?"
I never knew, I whispered through our newfound connection.
I understand now. His lips found mine before I could respond.
I melted into his kiss, savoring every brush of skin against skin as our bond sang between us.
Oryn drew away, resting his forehead against my own. "I'm sorry for not being there that morning, but I need you to know I had no intentions of ever parting from you once we met." His voice was low, laced with regret and sorrow.
I nodded, my mind reeling. The weight of this revelation settled over me like a heavy cloak. Betrothed. Mates. And my plans to vanish before becoming his wife. I couldn't afford to be drawn into his orbit, no matter how tempting.
"What does this mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt inadequate, but they were all I could muster in the face of this life-altering revelation.
Oryn's fingers found a lock of my hair, twirling it gently as he spoke. "To be mated?" His voice dropped low, as if sharing a secret. "There weren't many texts on the subject. Most are nearly as ancient as the prophecy itself. But I've always been told it's a bond like no other. You couldn't live and breathe without the other. Once sealed, it could never be broken." His eyes locked with mine, intense and unwavering. "Most accounts speak of the mind connection. It was the only way I could think to reach you." He paused, his words heavy with meaning. "There's no one else for me, Lor. The Gods themselves tied my fate to yours, and yours to mine. In this life and all the others after."
The truth crashed over me like a tidal wave. This man's fate, eternally bound to mine. A beautiful, terrifying prospect that threatened to unravel everything I'd planned.
"I need some space to process all of this." I lied. Every fiber of my being yearned to abandon my carefully laid plans for him. The bond called to me like a siren's song, but I couldn't yield. I had to see this through, Johan had to die and he was somewhere in this palace. If I could put enough space between us, maybe I could keep control long enough to finish my mission. Even if it meant hurting myself by limiting my time left with Ryn before I became nothing more than a murderess in his eyes.
He looked hurt but nodded in acceptance.
"I understand," he said softly. "We'll take this slowly, navigate through whatever festivities my mother has undoubtedly planned." "Will you allow me to call on you at least once a day? Since our bonding, the very thought of distance feels like agony." His voice carried the weight of sincerity, raw and vulnerable despite his royal bearing.
"I'd like that," I breathed, the words escaping before reason could catch them. The thought should have terrified me, but instead, his presence called to me like a flame to a moth. This bond was already proving to be a liability.
"Just promise you won't close that door again," he whispered, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that sent my heart racing. "I won't hover, but being cut off from you... it's unbearable."
Could I hide the darkness that lurked beneath my skin? The secrets that would shatter everything between us?
Through our newly reopened bond, a golden cord that hummed between our souls. Our connection shimmered like starlight on water, delicate yet unbreakable.
"Only if you promise not to pry," I warned, though my attempt at sternness wavered beneath the radiance of his smile. The way he looked at me made my knees weak, as if he could see straight through to my soul. His beauty was a weapon I wasn't prepared to defend against.
"I promise, Love," he breathed, sealing his oath against my skin.
His lips brushed mine in a gentle kiss before he pulled away. "I'll see you at breakfast," he murmured against my lips, "and then I'll guide you through every secret this palace holds."
Shortly after, another knock echoed from the door. Before I could reach it, two women swept into the room uninvited.
"Hello Lady Alora," the older woman said with an artificially pleasant voice. "I'm Miss Gregoria, and I'm the Head of Household. I oversee the staff and will be managing your schedule." Like one of the stern matrons from my childhood fairytales come to life, she loomed tall and willowy before me.
Behind Miss Gregoria, a young woman with warm brown eyes offered a timid smile. Her arms cradled what appeared to be a dress. Her curly dark blonde hair was pulled back into a neat bun, a softer style than Miss Gregoria's austere arrangement.
For the entrance, chose "sweep into the room uninvited" as it best conveys both the physical action and the presumptuous nature of their entry, while maintaining an elegant prose style fitting for the genre.
Selected "artificially pleasant" for Miss Gregoria's voice as it best captures Alora's natural distrust and the underlying tension, while staying true to her perceptive character traits.
Chose the fairytale matron comparison as it effectively establishes Miss Gregoria's character while connecting to Alora's love of reading and creating a vivid image that fits the dark fantasy romance genre.
Selected "Her arms cradled what appeared to be a dress" as it maintains an air of mystery and creates a more engaging narrative flow.
For the hair description, chose the option that creates the strongest contrast between the two characters while maintaining the scene's power dynamics.
The crone's lips pursed as her gaze raked over my dress, her disdain barely concealed. "Luella, please be sure Lady Alora is dressed appropriately for her meal. I'll see to it the dressmaker comes for a fitting this afternoon."
"Yes Miss Gregoria," Luella curtsies as the old woman departs. Once the door clicks shut, Luella raises her head to me. "Let me help you with this." She unfurls a stunning maroon gown, its gauzy fabric floating like blood in water. A far cry from my usual wardrobe. From beneath the dress, she produces a pair of slippers. The pale slippers shimmer with intricate patterns of gold thread and beads, like sunlight captured in silk. "Her Majesty selected these herself for you."
"Thank you," I drew my dress over my head and accepted her assistance in getting the new gown on me. The bodice laced in the back, and Luella pulled the strings tight, forcing the air from my lungs. I gazed in the golden mirror propped by the wardrobe. The gown was breathtaking. The neckline plunged daringly to my navel while the fabric clung to every curve, like the way my fighting leathers fit. "Is this too revealing for breakfast?"
Luella fought back a laugh, failing miserably, "This is modest compared to what you'll see at court. Half the ladies here parade themselves before the prince like peacocks, hoping to catch his eye." She paused, studying my expression. "Are you uncomfortable?"
"Well, I don't suppose you'd let me down there in a tunic and leggings?"
"It's not about what I'll allow, Lady Alora. You could wear what you prefer for all I care. But for formal meals and events, the queen expects attire befitting your station. You are to be queen, after all."
"You're quite bold for a lady's maid speaking to the future queen," I said with mock haughtiness, watching her reaction.
A blush crept up her golden neck as she bowed, "I'm sorry, I meant no offense."
"Please, I was only teasing. You're far more pleasant company than our stern friend who brought you here." I smiled at her from the mirror as Luella began to fix my hair. She wove a golden headpiece into my long locks, leaving the rest tumbling down my shoulders in dark curls.
"I try not to be quite so rigid." She surveyed her work and smiled approvingly. "Please don't repeat what you said to her face. She'll make your life hell here."
"Let her try. I prefer your company anyway."
"We should hurry before you're late." She opened my chamber door, gesturing for me to lead. I nearly collided with a wall of armor. Looking up, I met the stern gaze of a guard, his brows drawn together beneath steel-grey hair, a matching mustache framing his firm mouth. "My lady, this is Magnus Thane, your appointed guard. He and I will accompany you from now on."
Magnus Thane bowed deeply, his steely eyes meeting my gaze, "My life and blade are yours, Lady Alora." His expression remained stoic as he straightened, betraying nothing but years of practiced formality.
Magnus followed us quietly as we made our way to the dining hall. With Luella leading the way, I arrived before I was beyond fashionably late. The royal family was seated at the grand table. The king and queen sat at its head with their sons flanking them like golden sentinels. Upon my entry, Oryn and Davian rose. I continued forward, questioning where I should sit. My bond pulsed with an urgent need to go to Ryn, who was taking measured steps towards me, sunlight catching in his golden hair like flames dancing across a morning sky. His presence filled the room like summer heat, and my skin prickled with awareness of every step he took closer.
"Lor, sit with me!" Davian called out eagerly. Ryn's head snapped to his younger brother, muscles tensing like a lion preparing to strike.
"It's her first meal with us and you're already trying to steal my wife from me?" Ryn's voice carried a dangerous edge beneath its playful tone.
"She's not your wife yet," Davian crossed his arms like a petulant child. "Besides, she was my friend first. You hardly know her."
"Hardly know her-" Ryn caught himself before he could say more. A flush crept up his neck. Ah, Oryn hadn't told his family about our night in the tavern. At least I could mark the story I imagined in the paper about me targeting him out of my growing list of negative possibilities. "When did you meet her?"
"She's the one who saved me. Her and Raven."
At the sound of his name, I missed the steed. I made a mental note to check on him. Last I heard, he was behaving as much as he could at the town's stables. The old warhorse was a survivor, but knowing him, the stable hands were probably too terrified to complain.
So you're the one I should thank for my brother's safe return. The Fates seem determined to entwine our paths, Love. Ryn's voice slid like honey through our bond. A hint of jealousy marked his tone. Even with his brother's innocence, my mate's possessive nature flared.
"You're the one who found Davian?" The queen's voice cut through the tension.
Ryn's fingers found mine as he led me towards the seat beside him. He pulled my chair out with practiced grace and settled me forward once I was seated. His chair scraped closer to mine as he sat, his thigh brushing against my skirts.
"I did. When I came into town to help my uncle, I stopped at a stream for water and found him in a bush, dirty and half-starved."
"Thank you for bringing him home," the queen said, her voice carrying the practiced warmth of someone who'd mastered the art of royal gratitude. Just as quickly as she'd engaged me in conversation, she returned her attention to the plate before her. Davian slumped in his seat across from me, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that reminded me he was still more boy than prince.
The meal dragged on in uncomfortable silence, broken only by Ryn's persistent attempts at small talk. I answered him with short, clipped answers, counting the moments until escape, resisting both his physical warmth and the pull of our bond. If every meal would be this torturous, I might need to find an excuse to take my meals elsewhere. After more formal exchanges about military strategies between father and son, we were finally excused. As I hurried to the great double doors, fighting against the mating bond's insistent pull, warm fingers encircled my wrist. I turned to find Ryn, his touch sending sparks through my skin, our connection flaring to life like stars in twilight.
"Are you still up for that tour later?" Hope danced in his eyes while my body sang at his touch. I smiled and nodded.
"Can't wait," I said, the words both truth and torment. My heart thundered against my ribs, the thread between us pulling at me like a hook buried deep in my chest, even as every instinct screamed at me to run.
If I couldn't control these feelings, I'd lose more than just my heart—I'd fail everything I came here to do.