Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 9

9

A s twilight melded into the velvety cloak of night, the palace seemed to exhale, its daytime bustle giving way to a more serene, albeit still vigilant, calm. My restlessness mirrored the transition, a silent echo of the day's events and the weight of my thoughts. With a slight hesitation borne from not wanting to impose, I called for Tessa, her presence a steady reassurance in the vastness of the Eastern palace.

My lady-in-waiting appeared at the doorway, appearing every inch the epitome of readiness, her posture alert. “Yes, Your Highness?” Her voice carried the soft timbre of attentiveness.

The words left me in a gentle exhale. “I’d like to take a bath,” I confessed, my voice tinged with a vulnerability I seldom allowed myself to show. “If it’s too much at this hour, I can always wait until tomorrow. I’m just feeling a tad restless.”

Her response was immediate, her smile a beam of understanding in the dim light of my chambers. “It’s no trouble at all, Your Highness,” Tessa assured me, her tone imbued with warmth. “I’ll have some water warmed up for your bath.”

Her willingness to accommodate and ensure my comfort regardless of the hour was a small comfort in the grand scheme of things; a reminder of the quiet acts of service that wove through the fabric of our daily existence within these walls.

As Tessa vanished to prepare my bath, the burden of the day's events seemed to lift slightly, prompting me to seek the comfort of my night attire. I glided towards the wardrobe, the soft whisper of silk a soothing promise against my skin. With deliberate movements, I donned my nightgown and robe, the fabric cascading gently around me. Slipping my feet into the welcoming embrace of my slippers, I ventured out of the sanctuary of my chambers.

The sight of Viktor standing sentinel outside my door caught me by surprise. “Oh!” I exclaimed, startled by his unexpected presence. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“Tessa is seeing to your bath, Your Highness,” Viktor informed me, his demeanor a blend of professionalism and warmth. “Would you care for a late-night snack as well?” His inquiry, accompanied by a discreet gesture, summoned one of the nearby court ladies.

The mention of refreshments sparked a thought, a craving for a taste of home. “I heard Valoria has a famous wine called Love in the Moonlight . Is it available here?” I ventured, curiosity lacing my words.

Viktor's laughter was a light note in the night's calm. “We were told you liked wine,” he shared, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “The kitchens have been well stocked in anticipation of your arrival. I'll ensure a jug of Love in the Moonlight, along with some accompanying snacks, are brought to you.”

“Thank you,” I responded, a genuine smile breaking through. His steps, guiding me towards the bathing chamber, were a dance of shadows and light, the hallway a bridge between the day's end and the night's quiet promise.

The bathing chamber was a shelter of tranquility and opulence. As I stepped through the arched doorway, the warm glow from the wall sconces bathed the room in a soft golden light, reflecting off the intricate mosaic tiles that adorned the walls and floor. These tiles, a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, depicted scenes of moonlit Valorian landscapes and mythical creatures frolicking under the night sky, bringing the room to life with their vivid colors and detailed artistry.

In the center of the chamber stood a large, freestanding bathtub that could easily fit ten people, carved from a single block of marble. Its smooth, cool surface was inviting, promising a soothing embrace. Servants moved quickly to fill the tub with steaming water that seemed to dance under the flickering light, releasing gentle waves of vapor that carried the relaxing scents of lavender and jasmine, mingling in the air and inviting deep breaths and relaxation.

Beside the bathtub, a small, elegantly carved wooden table held an array of bathing oils and salts, each container more exquisite than the last, offering scents and healing properties sourced from across Valoria’s lands and beyond.

Toward the back of the room, a delicate screen of frosted glass partitioned a space for changing, ensuring privacy while also serving as a piece of art, its surface etched with scenes that mirrored the chamber’s mosaics. Beyond this, plush towels and a robe of the softest cotton were laid out, their crisp folds a promise of warmth and comfort to wrap around oneself after the bath.

The entire chamber resonated with a harmony of elements—water, fire from the candles, earth in the marble and tiles, and air perfumed with floral scents. It was more than a place to bathe; it was a retreat designed to soothe the weary, to wash away the concerns of the day, and to envelop its occupant in the luxury and peace that few places within the palace could offer. Here, in this secluded haven, the outside world and its demands felt a world away, allowing for a rare moment of solitude and reflection.

When the last servant finished emptying the contents of their bucket into the tub, Viktor stepped into the doorway. “I’ll have Tessa bring you the wine and snacks,” he said, then excused himself and left the bathing chambers. The door closed with a soft click, sealing me within this luxurious cocoon, the world beyond momentarily forgotten.

Retreating behind the frosted glass partition, its surface etched with delicate patterns that danced in the candlelight, I shed the layers of my attire, each piece a whisper against the cool air. Standing in nothing but my skin, I secured my hair atop my head with a leather cord, ensuring the strands would remain dry and untouched by the bath's fragrant embrace.

Emerging from behind the screen, I approached the marble tub, its surface gleaming under the soft lighting, an inviting beacon. The few steps leading up to its rim seemed to elevate me not just physically but mentally, preparing me for immersion into a tranquil oasis.

As I slid into the water, the heat enveloped me instantly, a gentle yet all-encompassing warmth that seemed to penetrate the very core of my being. The water, infused with oils and herbs, caressed my skin, easing the tension from my muscles and coaxing a deep, contented sigh from my lips. For a moment, within the embrace of the steaming bath, all was right with the world.

As the quiet of the chamber descended once more, the soft murmur of fabric against stone announced the arrival of Tessa, her steps measured and silent alongside two court ladies. Their presence, a gentle intrusion into the solitude of the bathing chamber, was marked by efficiency and grace as they navigated the space, setting down a tray laden with a decanter of wine and an assortment of snacks upon the wooden table beside the tub.

Observing Tessa's intention to pour the wine, I raised a hand, halting her in the motion. “Don't worry, I can do it,” I offered, keen to maintain a semblance of independence even in such pampered surroundings.

“Very well, Your Highness,” Tessa replied, her voice a soft echo in the marbled expanse. With a collective bow, she and the accompanying ladies retreated, their departure as unobtrusive as their arrival, leaving behind a trail of quiet respect.

Alone once again, I reached for the decanter, the crystal catching the flicker of candlelight as I poured the wine into a glass. The aroma was a bouquet of fruit and mystery, a promise of flavors yet untasted. The first sip was a revelation. The wine's complexity unfolded on my palate as layers of taste surpassed even the renowned A Thousand Roses.

With a contented sigh, I nestled back against the cool marble, the edge of the tub providing a perfect rest for both my head and the cup of wine. The warmth of the water, the subtle dance of lavender in the air, and the exquisite taste of wine coalesced into a symphony of relaxation. I allowed my eyes to close, the cup securely placed on the tub's wide ledge, as the soothing properties of the bath began to weave its magic.

Drifting, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, the stresses and intrigues of palace life melting away into the comforting warmth and the gentle aroma that surrounded me. It was a rare moment of peace, a soft descent into slumber guided by the tranquil waters and the serene ambiance of the bathing chamber.

The peacefulness of my bath was shattered by an unexpected touch, a rough hand gliding down my neck and shoulder, snapping me out of my doze with a start. Instinctively, I recoiled, clutching my chest for modesty, only to find Ronan's familiar grin greeting me.

“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” he teased, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber.

Panic fluttered in my chest as I scanned the room. “What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?” The words tumbled out in a hushed rush, the fear of discovery pressing down upon me.

He eased himself onto the edge of the tub, dismissing my concerns with a shake of his head. “No, Viktor has the front covered. I found a less conspicuous entry.” His casual admission did little to quell my rising alarm.

“The security here is laughably lax,” I retorted, my gaze sharp, seeking to mask the turmoil his presence stoked.

A chuckle escaped him, his amusement clear. “Or perhaps they're just accommodating an old friend's visit.”

His teasing did nothing to soothe the tension threading through me. “Even so, you can’t keep sneaking into the Eastern palace. You’re going to get caught!” I whispered, the threat of my mother's wrath looming large in my mind. “If my mother— ”

“She won't find out,” he assured swiftly, his confidence unsettling.

I sank deeper into the water, my attempt at modesty a stark contrast to Ronan's brazen ease. “What are you doing here, Ronan? If this is about last night, we can’t—”

“We can’t what?” he cut me off.

“It can’t be repeated,” I mumbled and looked away, my face heating.

With a smirk, he began to unbutton his shirt, slowly revealing his inked skin adorned with the tales of the Crimson Clan and sending a jolt of shock through me. “Ronan!” I exclaimed, turning my back to him in a fluster.

His laughter filled the chamber, a sound too carefree for the gravity of our situation. “You've seen it all before, Leila.”

“What are you doing ?” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I’m taking a bath. Is there a problem?”

His query, a playful challenge to the absurdity of the moment, left me incredulous. “You can't join me in here! This isn't the time or the place. Return to the Northern palace at once!” I insisted, my voice a blend of frustration and disbelief.

Ronan's presence, bold and uninvited, was a turmoil I was ill-prepared to navigate. His defiance, wrapped in the guise of nonchalance, was a reminder of the delicate balance I had to maintain—between duty and desire, caution and yearning.

The moment transformed when Ronan suddenly plunged into the tub, sending ripples through the water and a shock through my system. “Ronan!” His name escaped me in a startled gasp, my hands flying up to shield my eyes as Ronan’s nude body entered the tub with me. His fearlessness escalated with each encounter, weaving a tapestry of exhilaration and apprehension within me. Each day he became more and more daring. It made me nervous. “Please,” I pleaded, although I wasn’t sure what I was asking for.

Ignoring my protests, he waded through the water with a predator's grace, closing the distance until only a breath's space remained between us. “Did you miss me?” His voice, a husky whisper, curled around me like smoke, his arm snaking around my waist to draw me closer, an anchor in the swirling warmth. “Because I missed you,” he confessed, the timbre of his voice carrying the weight of longing, of a day spent in the shadow of separation. “I've been counting the moments until I could see you again.”

Tentatively, I lowered my hands, opening my eyes slowly as I allowed myself a glimpse of the man before me. Ronan, in the flickering candlelight, was a vision of ethereal beauty—his hair, a cascade of midnight, parting to reveal intricate braids that framed his face, a testament to his heritage. His eyes, a deep, mesmerizing crimson, bore into mine, soft yet intense, brimming with an emotion that tethered me to the spot. The sight of him so vulnerably majestic ensnared my gaze, rendering me incapable of looking anywhere else.

In that moment, the world beyond the steam-filled chamber ceased to exist—there was only Ronan, the warmth of the water, and the burgeoning realization of the depth of our connection.

As Ronan's declaration hung in the air between us, a profound silence enveloped the chamber, thick with unspoken promises and the weight of our reality. My fingertips, barely grazing the canvas of his ink-streaked skin, felt the subtle rise of his muscles under the intricate tapestry of tattoos that adorned his body. The sensation of his breath, sharp at my touch, reverberated through me, a tangible marker of our closeness.

Confession spilled from me, a whisper lost in the steam and warmth. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.” My voice was barely audible above the sound of water lapping against marble. The admission of my longing for him, mingled with the knowledge of the impossibility of our union, left me adrift. “I want you. Desperately. But I know we can never be. I don’t know what to do.”

His question, soft and insistent, cut through the fog of my hesitation. “Why?” He searched for logic in my denial, a reason within the confines of our desires. “Why is it impossible? Why is it wrong? Nothing has ever felt more right.”

As our gazes locked, the moment seemed to be suspended in time as the depth of our predicament unfolded within the span of a heartbeat. “Do you honestly believe your father will give up on abducting me? Your people are desperate to resurrect the fox demon and you need me to do it,” I countered, the reality of our situation a barrier as tangible as the walls of the palace that trapped us both.

Ronan's vow, fervent and unwavering, enveloped me like a cloak. “I won’t let you get hurt, Leila,” he assured, his hand cradling my face with a tenderness that belied the strength within. “Even if I have to go against my father I will … for you .”

The gravity of his pledge, a promise of defiance for my sake, left me breathless. “You shouldn’t have to,” I murmured, a plea for him to understand the magnitude of his proposed sacrifice. “Your priority is—”

“ You’re my priority,” he interjected, his voice a beacon of resolve in the uncertain waters of our future. “Nothing else.”

Before I could say anything further, his lips descended onto mine. With my senses heightened, I felt his hands on my body, the parting of my lips by his, the sensation of his tongue on mine. I was lost in a sea of awareness so deep that when he pulled away, I felt lightheaded and he had to hold me steady.

“If you say no, I’ll leave this instant. So tell me, Leila,” he whispered. “What do you want?”

My heart beating like a hundred war drums, all I wanted was to feel his touch just one more time. Without hesitation, I wrapped my legs around his waist and hoisted myself up, draping my arms around his neck and slamming my mouth onto his. Kissing him with a hunger I’d never felt before, his hands engulfed me and he spun us around until my back was against the edge of the marble tub.

His lips slid down my neck to my chest, until he latched onto my breast. I moaned as he sucked and nipped, the throb at my core growing with each practiced flick of his tongue. I felt his hard length stroke my core and I gasped at the sensation as he rubbed against me.

“Ronan…” I moaned his name like a prayer, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I closed my eyes, absorbing all the sensations. Biting my lip and wanting more, so much more, I reached down between us and grabbed onto his length. He hissed and bit down on my nipple at my touch. Slowly, I stroked him and rubbed against him.

“Leila,” he moaned against my breasts. “You’re driving me crazy.”

I couldn’t hide the satisfied smirk that spread across my face as I stroked him faster and faster. I wanted him to go crazy. I wanted him to be lost in my touch as much as I was in his. At this point, I didn’t know where we started or ended. All I knew was that I wanted this feeling to last forever.

A whimpering moan escaped me as my legs began to quake and I felt myself teetering on the edge. Rubbing faster, I gasped when I saw stars float across my vision as shuddering waves of ecstasy consumed me. Soon after, Ronan tensed and shuddered as he placed his head in the crook of my neck, biting down hard as he came into my hand. As our breathing slowed, we held onto each other as if we were the other’s life raft in a turbulent sea.

“Ronan?” I whispered. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out before I give you my all.”

He shook his head, which was still in the crook of my neck. “There’s no rush, Leila. We have plenty of time. The prophecy—”

“I don’t care about the prophecy,” I blurted.

“You’re not thinking clearly.” He pulled away from me. I unhooked my legs from his waist and slid down his body. “You don’t know the repercussions—”

“I don’t trust anyone but you,” I said adamantly. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Ronan caressed my face and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. “I know. But we’re in no rush. I’m in no rush. I want us to take our time. I want you to make your decision with a clear head.”

I nodded in understanding. “I will. I promise.”

“Good girl,” he said with a grin as he brushed the loose strands of hair away from my face. “I should probably go before someone finds us.”

I wanted to beg him to stay. I wanted to beg him to follow me into my bed chambers and spend the night with me, but I knew realistically, it wasn’t possible. At least not yet.

“When will we see each other again?” I inquired, already desperate for our next meeting.

“I’ll visit you tomorrow night. And the night after that, and the night after that,” he promised. “I’ll find a way.”

“Be careful,” I whispered as I stood on my tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I look forward to tomorrow.”