The Prince’s Heart

9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

M y good mood persists through the rest of the day and into the next. Even after I eat a light breakfast and walk to Mother’s study, I feel like my feet aren’t really touching the ground. I know this feeling won’t last forever, but I’m going to enjoy it while it does.

The door to Mother’s study is open when I get there, but I knock anyway to announce my presence. Mother, sitting at a teak writing desk near one of the windows, looks up at the sound. “Good morning, Darien,” she says. “You’re up early.”

She’s not wrong. For the second night in a row, I couldn’t sleep, although for a different reason this time.

“Good morning.” I walk into the room and kiss her lightly on the cheek. Her room is nowhere near as utilitarian as mine. Paintings hang on the walls and vases full of fresh-cut flowers sit on windowsills, while light streams in from large windows along one side of the room, lending a rich, rosy glow to the cherrywood-paneled walls. A small piano sits in the back. Quite often, when I come here for one reason or another, she’s playing, and I hear her before I even get close. “I figured you’d be here.”

“And you were right.” She gestures to a chair nearby, and I sit down. “To what do I owe the honor?”

I try my best to appear unconcerned. “I was just wondering—how did you and Catherine Leara end up becoming friends?”

She gives me a piercing look. “That’s an odd question. Why do you want to know?”

It’s a simple question, one that I expected her to ask, but I still hesitate before I answer. Despite what I told Tag yesterday, some people will disapprove of me courting someone who’s ranked so much lower than me. Most of the council will be in that group, and probably Father too. If I’m lucky, Mother will tell me something, anything , that I can use to argue that Tag is an acceptable suitor.

Still, I promised Tag I wouldn’t tell anyone about us yet, so I just shrug and say, “Like I said, I was just wondering. I know she’s important to you, and I feel bad that I don’t know much more about your friendship beyond the basics.”

Apparently, that was a good enough answer for her. “Catherine’s grandmother Elsera served as an advisor to my grandmother while the latter was queen, and then to my father after he became king. Elsera was born into a very old family. A branch of my own family, in fact—although they branched off many, many years before Elsera and my grandmother were born. Well before the Empire fell, even.” She crosses her arms. “Unfortunately, when I was young, your grandparents only allowed me to fraternize with other children of ‘appropriate’ rank. While Elsera’s branch of the family wasn’t particularly influential or rich, they were related to royalty, which lent them a certain amount of prestige. It was enough that Catherine and I were encouraged to become friends from a young age. Most of the other children I was allowed to play with were terrors—spoiled brats who were used to getting whatever they asked for—but Catherine and I got along quite well, and the rest is history, I suppose.”

Okay, that’s good—the part about Catherine’s family being good enough to meet my grandparents’ apparently high standards, at least. “If her family was so prestigious, why did she bring Tag and Riella here instead of going back there?

Mother smiles tightly. “Oh, that was never going to happen. Catherine may be many things, but conceited is not one of them. She never really fit in well at a court that was obsessed with rank above all else. Even so, I don’t think she ever got quite used to living out in the country where nothing ever happens. She certainly seemed happy enough to accept my invitation to come here for an extended stay.” She uncrosses her arms and looks me directly in the eye. “Now what’s this all about, really? I know you love history, but this is obscure, even for you.”

“Nothing! Truly, I mean it.” I try to sound innocent. “She clearly means a lot to you, and I guess I just wanted to understand why. You certainly talked about her quite often before they got here, but you never really mentioned how you two came to be friends in the first place.”

She looks at me for a few seconds before saying, “I suppose that makes sense.”

I silently breathe a sigh of relief.

“How are you getting along with Tag?” she continues. “Catherine told me that you offered to introduce him to life at court, and I hear that the two of you are becoming quite close.”

Just like that, my guard is back up. “We are,” I say carefully. “I’ve been spending some time with him over the last few weeks. In fact, we just went on a ride together yesterday.”

“Excellent!” If she does know, she’s doing a good job of not showing it. “I know you’re already friendly with Riella, but from what Catherine has told me, it sounds like you and Tag should have no trouble becoming friends as well.”

I can’t tell whether there’s a hidden meaning behind her words.

“Now, I don’t want to be rude,” she continues, “but I do need to get back to work. So, unless there’s anything else?”

I shake my head. I suppose I could try to surreptitiously figure out whether she knows about me and Tag being more than friends, but if she does know, there’s really nothing I can do about it anyway. I bid her goodbye and take my leave, feeling better than I did before.

Later that evening, I’m alone in my chambers, waiting with increasing anticipation, when a quiet knock sounds on the door. I’m there in a flash, and when I open the door and see Tag’s beautiful face staring back at me, I quickly pull him in and close the door behind him.

I’ve no sooner turned back to face him when he’s pulling me in for a deep kiss, his tongue brushing against mine. Then he leans back for a second, and I look at him, trying to drink this scene in, everything, so I can burn a perfect image into my memory. I can’t believe how incredible he looks, even in casual clothes—a loose, white nightshirt, and plain tan pants that are doing an excellent job of showing off his legs. His short hair is messier than usual, but, somehow, it’s endearing. I almost like it better this way.

I cup his face in one hand, gently caressing the silky-smooth skin of his cheek, and brush a solitary loose curl of his hair back with the other. He smiles at my touch, and, for a moment, it’s like the world around us has vanished, as though he and I are the only things that matter. “So, now that I’m here,” he says quietly, “what would you like to do?”

“I’ve got a few suggestions,” I whisper into his ear, before I pull him close and kiss his perfect lips. I’ve wanted others before, felt as though I’m a firework about to explode, but I’ve never needed anyone like I need him. All the other men that came before him pale in comparison. I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling him open up to me, and slowly move my hands lower on his back. Now that I have him, I don’t want to let him go.

He looks up at me, our faces barely inches apart, and it’s clear he knows what I’m thinking. Then he’s kissing me again, lightly at first, slowly getting firmer and deeper. His lips are softer than moonlight, and the touch of his hands on my bare skin is as gentle as silk. Before I know it, my hands are grabbing his shirt and pulling it off him. The sight of his muscular arms, chest, and stomach depletes the vestiges of reserve that still remain in my mind, leaving only desire in their wake.

My shirt is quickly gone too, then my pants, and soon his naked body is pressed against mine, nothing daring to come between us. The warmth of his skin is a welcome contrast from the cool night air. I try to get as close as I can to the fire that seems to rage inside him, not caring whether I get burned. Our kisses become hungrier, more passionate, as we both throw caution to the wind.

Somehow, we make it over to the bed, and I push him down, taking a second to admire the way he looks against the white sheets. He smiles at me, his perfect, white teeth framed by rosebud-red lips, and I can’t hold myself back anymore. I fall onto the bed next to him, and the last coherent thought I have before I fully give in to my desire is that I’ve never been happier to lose control.

When I come back to myself, I’m lying in the bed with Tag, cuddled up next to him. My heart is beating at a normal rate for what feels like the first time in weeks, and I’m more content than I’ve ever been before. For a minute or so, we lie here, holding each other, both of us silent. I don’t know about him, but I don’t want to shatter the moment by speaking.

We lie there for a few minutes more, before Tag finally breaks the silence. “You know,” he says, “if I had known this would happen, I would have kissed you without warning the first night we met.” As if to emphasize his point, he kisses me again, his warm, soft lips against mine.

“That would have been nice,” I say, when he finally allows me to speak. “But better late than never.” My fingers lightly trace his bare hip. “Besides, I’d say it’s turned out pretty well so far.”

He laughs and kisses me again. “I can’t disagree with that.”

A lock of his hair has fallen out of place, covering his left eye; I gently push it back into place. “Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask quietly. “Now that I finally have you, I don’t want to let you go.”

He snuggles even closer to me, if that’s possible. “Of course I will. I don’t want you to let go of me either.”

I’m all too happy to oblige him, so I hold him close, feeling his heart beat in time with mine, until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.