Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ifeel lighter than I have in weeks when I return to the palace with Larus.
We’re going to stop this somehow. He won’t be able to call off Felix’s ships, but he can cause a rift with his mother easily enough.
I tell him not to do so on our behalf—she’s an old woman, and who knows how much time they have left together?
But he assures me that it’ll be easier to cause a rift with her than keep the peace, and that she’ll welcome him back with open arms in the end, like she always does.
Then there’s the matter of Seth’s army. I explain to Larus what I’ve asked of Ronan regarding the grain, and he thinks it’s a good start, although he worries that it will give Seth additional resources and it won’t prevent our more loyal or aggressive subjects from joining the fight.
He believes that organizing the troops will be relatively easy to sabotage, considering it’s the last thing we’re waiting on to be ready.
Coordinating just the forward armies involves a large number of people who aren’t given the full information on what’s happening or why they’re arriving in Selara prepared for war, and Larus thinks there are plenty of opportunities to ruin Seth’s plans without exposing him to the king and provoking his justice.
Which leaves Adria to me. Larus believes my best chance of stopping her from taking out Ronan is to act as his personal protector.
She’s a lot of things, but she isn’t reckless.
Once she sees the plan has fallen apart, she’ll be angry, but she’ll likely withdraw to regroup and try again later.
But just in case she decides to go for revenge anyway, consequences be damned, I can be there to keep him safe.
Which means, after three agonizing weeks apart, I can finally see him again. I can finally be with him, knowing that I’m doing everything I can to protect him and all of our people. I can’t tell him the truth about the plans we had, but it won’t matter once they’re ruined.
I meet Quinn at our usual palace exit for the day’s events. It’s the last week of the Festival of Arts, and the final competitions are taking place, which means that some of the very best shows are about to happen. But Quinn is distracted—she met a dancer at a tavern last night.
“Blonde hair down to here,” she says, gesturing to her ass. “Like spun silk. And her mouth. Sylvie, her mouth.”
“I’m jealous,” I admit. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
Her eyes light up. “Coming over to the fun side at last? I’ve got so many great options for you.
There’s that musician from the Redwoods Band.
The one with the stringed thing. Harp? Lyre?
Something. Or the sculptor from a couple of weeks ago.
He was looking at you like he wanted to study your curves.
” She mimes running her hands down my body.
“Or the painter from House Juni. The one who also throws the javelin—”
“None of those,” I say, though I have to admit her encyclopedic knowledge of fuckable people is impressive. “I’m thinking of someone a bit more…regal.”
Her mouth drops open. Then she bursts into a broad smile. “Really? I thought you were for sure over it after nothing happened last week. Oh man, he’s going to be thrilled. He’s been pining. It’s so pathetic.”
“Has he?”
“Gods, yes. I didn’t want to say anything—I thought it would be weird if I did. But he is bereft. A shell of a man. Shit, he’s going to come on so strong when you see him again. Give me a chance to warn him so he doesn’t scare you off.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I—that is—don’t do that.”
“Oh nooooo,” she says, putting her arm around me. “You’re a better liar than he is. I thought you were over it, but you were pining this whole time too, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know about pining…” I say.
“Oh gods. You were made for each other. Can I be there? Can I be there when you tell him? I just want to see him be happy. And you too, Sylvie.”
“Well, I was hoping you would help me find him.”
Her eyes flash with an idea. “He’s going to the opera tonight. Father is joining him in the royal box. But what if you show up instead?”
“Just show up? Don’t you think I should tell him first?” What if he doesn’t want me there? What if he’s changed his mind in the three weeks it’s taken me to decide?
“Surprise him. Trust me. He loves a surprise. It’ll be so sweet and romantic. I almost want to vomit, it makes me so happy. Come on, let’s skip the day and go get you ready. There’s so much to do. You need a killer dress; you need jewelry. Oh, we need to remove every single hair from your body—”
“Quinn!”
“Just trust me on that one too, alright? I don’t know his preferences, but I do know a bit about getting things tangled in your teeth—”
“Gross.”
“Exactly! Which is why we’re going to remove it all, starting with this unibrow—”
“I do not have a unibrow!”
“Not yet, but it’s on its way…”
After an excruciating day of plucking, waxing, shaving, and cramming myself into a thin and silky black dress that leaves exactly nothing to the imagination, Quinn declares me ready to seduce the God-King himself.
“If he turns you down, I’ll take pity on you.”
“Quinn!”
“I’m kidding. You’re gorgeous. He’s going to explode when he sees you. Hopefully not literally, but don’t be surprised.”
“You’re absolutely disgusting,” I say to her with affection.
“You know it, and you love it.”
And she’s right. I never would have thought it was possible when I met her, but she’s basically my best friend now.
We share a carriage from the palace to a theatre north of the palace market. It’s an older building, but the inside has been recently redone. The seats and balconies are made from Nithyrian wood, with cushions and accents in the rich reds and blues Ronan seems to prefer.
If the walls weren’t trimmed with gold, I would have suspected he oversaw the renovations himself.
Quinn leads me up a series of staircases to the royal box at the top. She has the guards get her father first.
“Come on, old man,” she says to him, looping her arm with his. “We need your seat.”
He takes a moment to look at me before realizing what she’s saying. “Oh. I suppose you do,” he says in his usual tone of boredom and disdain.
Quinn shoots me an approving look. “Go get him, girl.”
I take a deep, steadying breath before I turn the doorknob and enter the royal box.
It’s a small balcony at the top of the theatre, covered on top with a canopy of red velvet curtains and rich golden tassels. Though it looks like it could seat about eight comfortably, only two seats have been placed within it.
Ronan is sitting in one of them with his back to me. One leg is crossed over his lap, resting on his opposite knee. He’s leaning back, his head tilted to the side as if whatever he’s about to see holds no interest for him. As if his mind is somewhere else entirely.
I watch the tap of his fingers on the arm of his chair cease when he senses me. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn or get up.
I walk around the side of the other chair. He’s so…beautiful. Gods, he’s just beautiful. Honestly, this entire festival is pointless. The best tribute to Kerensa is sitting right here.
Though, like the time I saw him at the arena after we’d been apart for a while, he looks a bit rough around the edges.
I hope that isn’t because of me. But if it is, at least it’ll be over soon.
“Is this seat taken?” I say. I’m so nervous he’ll say no that I’m shaking.
“I—” He stares at me for a long while, drinking me in. Then he looks back at the door and shakes his head. Sorry, Cyrus. “Not anymore.”
I smile lightly as I sit down beside him, my heart fluttering in my chest.
Damn, it feels good to be here. I can smell that spicy scent coming off of him, and it’s like coming home again.
“Is this real?” he whispers. He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on me.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve made my choice.” I reach into his lap and take his hand, and a powerful reverberation of feeling pulses through me. Pulses through us.
Want, need, longing. Desire.
“And everything I told you? Everything I did?” He pushes his words through the overwhelming feelings.
I wait for it to pass before I turn in my seat to face him. “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” He reaches for me, taking my face in his hand, and I thrill at his touch. “It doesn’t make me want you any less.” I kiss his palm, and he shivers.
“Gods, Sylvie,” he whispers. He gestures to the stage. “Are you sure you want to see this?”
“You can’t let them down,” I say. This might be the highlight of their lives, performing for the king. “And besides.” I point to the sides of the box. No one in the room can see below about chest height. “No one needs to know what we do in the shadows.”
He groans, and it sends another incredible pulse between us. “We have a few minutes before they start. Can I show you this beautiful doorknob?” He stands and points to the darkened back of the box where the door is.
If we go back there now, it’ll look like we’ve just stepped outside for a minute.
“Please do,” I say.
We don’t even make it to the door before his hands are on me. I drop the shadows around us even lower.
“Gods, I missed you,” he says into the back of my neck before turning me to kiss him.
I moan as his lips make contact with mine. Everything feels heightened, and it’s not just the power that connects us. It’s the absence, the weeks lying in bed, dreaming of him. All of the agonizing distance between us finally closing.
“I need you,” he says, his hands ruining the hair that took us hours to do. And I don’t even care. “I ache for you.”
“Ronan,” I murmur as his hand grazes my breast.
“Fuck,” he says, turning his head to the side in pleasure. “Say it again. Say my name.”
“Ronan, they’re lowering the lights.”
“Fuck!”
I laugh and smooth my dress and my hair. “Come on,” I tell him, taking his hand and leading him to the seat.
We wait until they’ve made the announcement that includes acknowledging the king before continuing.