Chapter 21
Back in my chambers, I twirled gleefully, feeling lighter than I had in years. The weight of that cursed brooch was finally gone. Laurel watched me with barely concealed amusement as I practically skipped to the cabinet where I kept my wine.
“This calls for a celebration!” I declared, pulling out a bottle of expensive Eldorian red. “Care to join me, Laurel?”
She shook her head, trying and failing to hide her smile. “Someone needs to keep their wits about them, my lady.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, pouring myself a generous glass, the rich burgundy liquid catching the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. “More for me!”
Tonight I’ll get drunk!
It had been so long since I’d had the chance to get drunk. Not that I was ever great at holding my liquor.
Two glasses in, I was already feeling wonderfully warm and loose-limbed. The ornate furniture of my chamber seemed to dance with me as I swayed to imaginary music.
“You know what’s funny?” I spun around, nearly knocking over a vase. “I used to be terrified of Rosalind. Can you believe that? Me! Scared of sweet, proper Rosalind!”
Laurel lunged forward to steady the wobbling vase. “Perhaps you should sit down, my lady?”
“Nonsense!” I climbed onto my chaise lounge, using it as an impromptu stage. Yes! My stage. “I feel magnificent! Like I could fly!”
“Please don’t try,” Laurel muttered, hovering nervously nearby.
I struck a dramatic pose, nearly losing my balance in the process. “I am Lady Ilyana D’Arcane, and I am done with schemes!” I announced to my imaginary audience, raising my glass in a toast.
“My lady!” Laurel yelped as wine sloshed dangerously close to the silk upholstery.
“Oh relax,” I giggled, attempting to step down gracefully and failing spectacularly. Laurel caught me before I face-planted into the carpet. “I’m perfectly fine. Just practicing my dancing for the next ball.”
“Is that what you call it?” Laurel snorted, then immediately covered her mouth, mortified at her slip.
I grinned at her, delighted. “Was that sass I just heard from my proper little maid?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I would never—”
“You would and you did!” I sang, grabbing her hands and forcing her into an impromptu waltz. “Come on, dance with me! That’s an order!”
“My lady, please—” But she was laughing now too as I spun us around the room, narrowly avoiding furniture.
“See? Isn’t this fun?” I asked, right before tripping over my own feet. We stumbled into my vanity, sending perfume bottles rattling.
“That’s it,” Laurel declared, finally putting her foot down. “Time for bed.”
I pouted but allowed her to guide me to my bed. “You’re no fun,” I mumbled, flopping onto the mattress. “But I love you anyway,” I smiled at her but she didn’t return it. How rude. I just declared my love for her and she doesn’t even acknowledge it.
Laurel pulled the blanket over me. Wait a minute.
“Wait, but I’m not—” Hiccup! “—drunk yet.” Hiccup!
“Says the drunk,” Laurel muttered under her breath. “Stay here. I’ll bring some lemon water for you.”
The room spun pleasantly as I stared up at the canopy. “Do you think Prince Anderic can dance?” I wondered aloud, my wine-addled brain conjuring images of golden curls and dangerous smiles.
The moment Laurel left the room, a brilliant idea hit me. I should go confront that deranged prince! Yes!
I sat up, swaying slightly as the room spun. Why had Prince Anderic been avoiding me since the poisoning? Did he think I was too weak now? Ha! I’d show him.
With determination born of wine and wounded pride, I stumbled to my feet. No, I wasn’t drunk. The floor seemed to tilt beneath me, but I pressed on, driven by liquid courage. Definitely not drunk. I made it to the door after only bumping into three pieces of furniture. Success!
The palace corridors were very empty just like my heart as I wobbled my way to Anderic’s chambers, using the wall for support more often than I’d like to admit. The guards at his door took one look at me and stepped aside.
Without bothering to knock—because really, why start being polite now?—I burst into his room.
Wait, why is his door unlocked? Whatever.
There he was, sitting on a chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. huh!
“You!” I jabbed my finger at his chest and immediately regretted it. Ouch. “Why is your chest so hard? That’s just rude.”
Anderic looked up from his chest where I just poked him, golden curls gleaming in the lamplight, those dangerous blue eyes dancing with amusement. “Lady Stormbourne. To what do I owe this… unexpected pleasure?”
“Don’t you ‘Lady Stormbourne’ me!” I poked him again, ignoring the pain in my finger. “You’ve been avoiding me! And stop smirking! It’s very distracting when you do that.”
“Is it now?” His smirk only grew wider.
“Yes! And so is your face! And your hair! It’s all… golden and perfect and it’s very annoying,” I waved my hands in the general direction of his head. “How do you even get it to do that?”
“Do what, exactly?” He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying my drunken tirade.
Wait, I wasn’t drunk. And how dare he!
“The thing! Where it catches the light and looks like spun gold! It’s not fair!” I stumbled slightly, and his hand shot out to steady me. “And stop being so fast! That’s also annoying.”
“Anything else about me that annoys you?” His voice was rich with suppressed laughter.
“Yes! You make my heart do weird things! Like right now, it’s going all…,” I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to demonstrate. “Thump-thump-thump, but faster. And sometimes slower. It’s very confusing and I don’t like it.”
Anderic’s eyebrows rose, his expression shifting from amusement to something else entirely. “Is that so?”
“And your eyes!” I continued, too far gone to stop now. “They’re like… like the ocean during a storm. All blue and scary and beautiful and… wait, what was I angry about again?”
“I believe you were explaining why my existence offends you,” he supplied helpfully, rising from his chair with fluid grace.
“Oh right! You’re avoiding me! Why are you avoiding me? Is it because I got poisoned? Because that wasn’t my fault! Well, technically it was, but not really, and-” I swayed dangerously, and suddenly found myself caught in his arms.
“You smell nice,” I mumbled into his chest. “That’s annoying too.”
I lifted my head from his chest, the room fading away in the background. “And another thing…” My words trailed off as I met his gaze. Had his eyes always been this intense, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon? The air between us crackled with electricity.
My hands were still splayed across his chest, feeling the strong, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms. When had it started beating so fast? The world narrowed down to just this - his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, the slight catch in his breathing, the way his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on my waist.
Without conscious thought, I rose on my tiptoes, drawn to him like a moth to flame. His golden curls brushed my forehead, and I caught the faintest whiff of pine and something uniquely him. A small voice in my head warned that this was a terrible idea, but the wine had effectively silenced my usual self-preservation instincts.
“Ilyana,” he breathed, my name a warning or a prayer, I couldn’t tell which.
I closed the final distance between us, pressing my lips to his. For one heart-stopping moment, he remained still, and I feared I’d made a catastrophic mistake. Then his arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against him as he deepened the kiss.
Oh.
His lips moved against mine with devastating precision, stealing my breath and what remained of my sanity. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other splayed across my lower back, holding me steady as my knees threatened to give out.
I gasped when he nipped at my bottom lip, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. He tasted of spiced rum and something darker, more dangerous. Like lightning captured in a bottle.
This is what drowning must feel like, I thought hazily as I melted against him. Every touch, every breath sparked something primal and hungry within me. My fingers curled into his shirt, needing an anchor in this storm of sensation.
His tongue teased the seam of my lips and I sighed, my knees going weak. Maybe I was drunker than I thought because the room started spinning faster. Or was that just the effect he had on me? Either way, my head felt deliciously fuzzy.
“You’re dangerous,” I mumbled against his mouth. The words came out slurred.
“And you’re drunk,” he murmured, nipping at my bottom lip. “Though I don’t mind.”
“No ‘m not.” My eyes felt so heavy. Just resting them for a moment wouldn’t hurt…
His chest rumbled with silent laughter. “Is that why you’re falling asleep while kissing me?”
“Jus’ resting my eyes,” I nuzzled into his neck, breathing in that intoxicating scent of pine and spice. So warm. So comfortable. “‘Sides, your fault for being so…,” I yawned, “…cozy.”
“Cozy?” His voice dripped with amusement. “That’s a new one.”
I meant to come up with a witty retort, but my thoughts were getting fuzzy around the edges. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under my ear wasn’t helping matters. Neither was the way his fingers were lazily stroking my back.
The last thing I remembered was his exasperated sigh as my body went limp against his.
What have I done? was my final coherent thought before darkness claimed me.
* * *
I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart pounding like a war drum. The room spun as I sat up, my head throbbing in protest. The morning sunlight streaming through my windows felt too bright, making my head throb. Fragments of a dream—or was it a nightmare?—lingered at the edges of my consciousness. Golden curls, stormy blue eyes, the ghost of lips against mine…
No. Absolutely not.
Relief washed over me as I took in the familiar surroundings of my bedchamber. Just a dream. Nothing more than the product of too much wine and an overactive imagination.
“Oh thank the gods, it was just a nightmare,” I muttered, pressing my palms against my temples.
“My lady?” Laurel’s concerned voice broke through my disoriented thoughts. “Are you alright?”
I squinted at her, wincing as sunlight stabbed at my eyes. “I’m fine,” I croaked, my throat as dry as the southern deserts. “Just a nightmare.”
Laurel pressed a cool glass into my hands. “Lemon water,” she explained. “For your headache.”
I gulped it down gratefully, the tart liquid soothing my parched mouth. “Thank you,” I murmured, already feeling marginally more human.
A sly smile crept across Laurel’s face. “Was your nightmare about Prince Anderic, by any chance?”
I stared at her, my blood running cold. “How did you—”
“Well, considering he’s the one who carried you back to your room last night…” Laurel trailed off, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth.
The glass slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. Laurel’s words hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me into full alertness. Memories came flooding back—stumbling through the palace corridors, bursting into Anderic’s chambers, and then…
“Oh gods,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “It wasn’t a nightmare. I’ve done something irreversible.”
Laurel patted my shoulder, her voice thick with amusement. “If by ‘irreversible’ you mean that kiss—”
My head snapped up. “How do you know about that?!”
“You talked about it all night in your sleep,” Laurel said, not even trying to hide her grin now. “Quite enthusiastically, I might add.”
I let out a strangled groan. “What exactly did I say?”
“Something about his chest being unfairly hard?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And his hair being ‘annoyingly perfect’? Oh, and let’s not forget the part about his eyes being ‘like the ocean during a storm.’”
“Kill me now,” I flopped back onto the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow me whole. “This can’t be happening,” I moaned. “I kissed Prince Anderic. I kissed Prince Anderic . It wasn’t even him but me. Me! ”
“From what I gathered from his mannerisms, he probably kissed you back,” Laurel offered helpfully.
I glared at her through my fingers. “Not. Helping.”
Laurel shrugged, still smiling. “Just trying to look on the bright side, my lady.”
“I’m never leaving this room again,” I declared, pulling the covers over my head. “I’ll become a hermit, write poetry about my shame—maybe even take up needlework.”
“You hate needlework.”
“Exactly! It will be part of my penance.”
Laurel’s light laughter filled the room. “And what shall I tell the prince when he comes asking for you?”
I peeked out from under the blanket. “He wouldn’t…”
“Oh?” Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Shall we wager on that?”
Would he? The memory of his lips on mine, the taste of spiced rum, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair…
Oh gods, what have I done?
I sat up again, my mind racing. “Right. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I just need to avoid him for the rest of my life. Simple,” I nodded, more to convince myself than Laurel. “I’ll stay in my room today. Maybe forever. You can bring me food, right?”
Laurel raised an eyebrow. “And what happens when you inevitably run into him at court? Or during meals with the royal family?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea of facing Anderic after last night made my stomach churn. What must he think of me now? Stumbling into his room, drunk and…
A knock at the door scared the soul out of me.
Is it him?
I looked at Laurel, scared as she opened the door to reveal… my father.
I let out a relieved sigh as I recognized my father’s familiar face. “Father! What brings you here?”
Lord Elyas D’Arcane strode into the room, his jovial demeanor at odds with the worry lines etched around his eyes. “Can’t a father visit his daughter without an interrogation?” He embraced me, then held me at arm’s length, scrutinizing my face. “How are you feeling, my dear? I was so worried when I heard about the poisoning.”
I waved off his concern. “I’m fine, Father. It takes more than a little poison to keep me down. You know how resilient your daughter is.”
He chuckled, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s my girl. Always the fighter.”
Laurel curtsied. “My lord, shall I fetch some refreshments?”
I shook my head. “That won’t be necessary, Laurel. You may leave us.”
As Laurel exited, closing the door behind her, I turned back to my father. The light furnishings of my chamber seemed to mock our serious expressions. Gilded mirrors reflected twin images of concern.
“Now,” I said, sinking into a plush armchair, “what’s really troubling you, Father?”
He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” He paced the length of the room. “It’s about the Magnus case.”
My stomach clenched. “What about it?”
“They’re looking into those gold bars found in the furniture,” he fixed me with a stern gaze. “They might come to question you, given your… friendship with Lady Rosalind.”
I fought to keep my expression neutral. “I see. And what should I tell them?”
“The truth, of course,” he smiled, reassuring me. “That you merely recommended the furniture shop to her. Nothing more. And it was done by the Red Cross gang anyway, had nothing to do with the furniture shop. So, they can’t find any link.”
I nodded, processing this information. The pieces were falling into place, but the picture they formed was far from comforting.
“Now,” Father said, his tone lightening, “walk your old man to court? I have some tedious meetings to attend.”
I hesitated, the possibility of running into Anderic made my stomach churn. But refusing would only raise suspicion. There goes my plans of hiding in my room. “Of course,” I said, plastering on a smile. “Let me just freshen up.”
As we made our way through the ornate palace corridors, I kept my senses on high alert, dreading the sight of golden curls or the sound of that infuriatingly smooth voice. But luck, it seemed, was on my side until it wasn’t.
“Well, well,” a snide voice drawled. “If it isn’t the illustrious Lord D’Arcane and his… charming daughter.”
I suppressed a groan as Chancellor Darian rounded the corner, his lips curled in a perpetual sneer.
After ignoring my existence for the past few months, it seemed like he could no longer hold in his dislike for us
Or looking at Father might’ve triggered him. They were more like rivals than colleagues nowadays.
Father’s grip on my arm tightened imperceptibly. “Chancellor,” he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. “What a pleasure to see you outside of your lair. I mean, office.”
Darian’s eyes narrowed. “I could say the same for you, Elyas. Tell me, how’s the view from your precarious perch? Enjoying it while it lasts?”
“Oh, immensely,” Father replied, his smile sharp as a dagger. “Though I must say, the air is so much cleaner up here. You really should try it sometime.”
I bit back a smirk. Father: 1, Darian: 0.
The Chancellor’s gaze slid to me, his eyes cold and calculating. “Lady Ilyana,” he purred. “I trust you’ve recovered from your… unfortunate incident? Such a shame, really. One can never be too careful these days.”
The threat in his words was clear as crystal. Well, the feeling’s mutual. “Indeed, Chancellor. However, I find that true danger often lurks where one least expects it. Behind a friendly smile, perhaps?”
His smile widened fractionally as he narrowed his eyes. The resulting expression was… creepy. “How astute of you, little lady. Your father must be so proud.”
Little! Your brain might be little, not me.
“Oh, I am,” Father interjected smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Chancellor. Unlike some, we have actual work to attend to.”
With a final nod, Father steered me away, leaving Darian fuming in our wake.
As we approached the court chambers, Father squeezed my hand. “Be careful, my dear,” he murmured. “The palace is riddled with danger.”
As Father disappeared into the court, I turned to make my way back to my chambers, relief washing over me. I’d managed to avoid Anderic, at least for now.