Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
I force out a hollow laugh, my stomach twisting itself into painful knots. “Of course not. How could I have been in Adreania all these years? Besides, the fae no longer exist, nothing but myths now. Leon, my dear, are you feeling all right? You may have hit your head harder than you thought.”
Leon eyes the crown with suspicion. “Something strange is going on. There has to be a logical reason for the shift in color.”
“Magic has a mind of its own.” I pick up my plate, hoping to end this conversation, and head into the kitchen, where I place my dishes in a copper sink and fill it with fresh water. He joins me, bringing over the silverware and our glasses while I push open a window to let in the crisp night air.
I can tell he has more to say. He opens his mouth but closes it again with a shake of his head. After washing the dishes, he hands them to me to dry, and he watches and puts them back where he found them. Whatever tension remains between us slowly fades away, leaving us in a comfortable silence.
He looks at me every so often with a smile on his face, but he doesn’t speak. I fight the overwhelming urge to be honest with him. The panic that he knows too much has subsided; only the desire to have him know my true self remains .
Tomorrow I will have to send him away, but for tonight I can enjoy that he is here with me.
I pull out the only piece of clothing that will fit him: soft sleeping pants that tie in the front that once belonged to my father, one of the few items my mother kept. At the bottom of the drawer, under the piles of sheets and towels, are a few swords he made. My hand hovers over all of them before I pull out one of my favorites. The emeralds on the hilt sparkle in the candlelight, so close to the shade of Leon’s eyes. He will need an exceptional weapon to protect himself in the morning. Something inside me twists painfully at the vision of him walking away from me with it.
I point to the space where the narrow stairs hide a door, and he makes his way over to it.
“In the bathing room, pull the left lever for hot water, the right for cold. After you wash up, you can use the same tub for washing your clothes. You will find a bar of oatmeal soap, lathering hair syrups, and a jar with cleansing oil for washing your clothes.” I pass him the pants. “Here. You can change into this for now. Announce yourself before you come back up. I need to change.”
He nods and heads that way, eyeing me when I put the sword on the table. There’s a chest at the end of my bed and I quickly open it, pulling out silky loose sleeping trousers, a sleeveless top, and extra bedding.
A hot bath would be a blessing now, but is Leon the type of man who would snoop through my possessions if left alone here? Maybe he wouldn’t, but truthfully, if this situation were reversed, I would, so the bath is forgotten. A few more swigs of the wine bring a new wave of relaxation, and I take a deep breath before I turn to stare at my reflection in the ornate mirror above the tiny writing desk.
The gleaming circlet sits on my head. It is decorated with delicate leaves and small etchings in the fae language, its magic pulsing around me. The crown is obvious even if it is only a few shades lighter than my hair. Thankfully my ears are still hidden. I separate the top part of my hair and hastily braid some of it to wrap around the crown as best as possible. I stick a few golden pins around the circlet.
How in Ellova’s name did Jedrick sleep with it on?
With the last of the candles blown out in the dining area, I crawl into my soft bed. Moving all the way to the wall, I lean against the headboard. The echo of the running water makes it impossible to think of anything else besides what he may look like, lying in my bath, rivulets of water flowing down over his muscles. The illusion in my mind of us together in that tub is too tempting to ignore.
The tub is only big enough for one. I would need to straddle him, our faces close enough to kiss as he gently caresses the bar of soap all over my trembling body. He cups his hand in the water to pour it over me, watching the trail of bubbles slide down over my skin, placing soft, lingering kisses on each part of me he cleans. His strong hands line up my hips with his center as I carefully sink down on his waiting cock. The soap forgotten as his hands dip between my thighs, we groan together as the water splashes over the edge of the bath at the frantic motion of our joined bodies. His fingers have the dexterity of a healer on my clit ? —
The door of the bathing room pops open a crack, causing me to jump. “May I enter?”
“Y-yes!” My voice is a strangled mess.
He stops in the doorframe, his broad, bare chest on display, and studies me in bed. “Are you all right?” That tender tone with his features pulled together in concern sends a blush to my cheeks.
Yes, Leon, I’m fine. You just startled me as I was daydreaming about us, hopelessly imagining you naked as I rode you ’til the floor flooded from our fucking.
Instead I say, “The line is outside to hang your clothing, right when you walk out to the left. Do not attempt to go into the ominous glowing workshop, all right?”
We do not break eye contact as the words sink in. One eyebrow arches up, but he nods and heads outside with a slight frown on his face. Appearing to have listened, he immediately returns, locking the door as he does, and slowly walks over to the bed. I find him watching my hands as they twist my hair into a long braid for sleep .
He holds his hand out to me expectantly. “I’ll take the floor if you hand me a pillow?”
I look between him, his hand, and the exceedingly obvious place I’ve made for him next to me with the blanket moved down, folding it over to give it a welcoming appearance. Glancing up at him, I ask, “Do you wish to sleep on the floor?”
He pretends to look thoughtful for a moment. “It’s a hard choice, really. May I have a moment to think about it?” He holds up two hands like a scale. “Uncomfortable floor?” He lifts an arm up, tipping it upwards. “Beautiful woman.” He lifts the other arm up. “Decisions, decisions.”
It earns a smile from me. I hadn’t imagined it would be this hard to get him into bed. “What a compliment. I’m as appealing as the stone floor.”
He smiles back at me for a moment but then gets serious, his green eyes softening, words gentle. “I just want to be respectful of your space.”
“That is very kind of you, Leon. When I have a free moment, I shall commission a statue to your gallant chivalry, but between Grayden’s vile harassment, the kidnapping, the death of your king, and acquiring an indelible crown, I think we both have had a rather long day and could use a good night’s sleep. Which certainly won’t happen if you sleep on the floor.”
His laugh undoes a little of the woven ball of worry knitted in my chest.
“You also beat up those kidnappers.” He slides into the bed but leaves as much space as possible between our bodies.
I leave one candle burning, letting the wax drip on the table, and lie down, dreading sleeping with the crown on. The moment my head touches my pillow, I can no longer feel the crown or its magic, and I immediately bolt up again, gasping. Leon shoots out of the covers, ready with the sword that never leaves my side of the bed. The blade gleams in the candlelight while he looks around for a threat.
“What? Is everything all right?” He moves in a circle, seeking out the source of my panic .
“Yes…my apologies for startling you.” The feeling of the crown settles on my head once more, the pressing weight of the magic returning in a rush. He watches from above as I sink into the bed once more. The magic vibrations vanish, leaving only the slight weight of it, as if my hair is pulled too tight, but it’s not uncomfortable enough to keep me awake. There is hope for real sleep tonight. “When I return to my pillow, the sensation of magic is almost gone. Well, I know it is there. It makes its presence known…an odd feeling to be sure, but manageable.”
He looks at the crown with an expression of frustration, but his gaze quickly returns to one of interest at me. “May I touch it?” he asks tentatively, his raised hand paused and waiting for my permission.
I want him to touch me anywhere else, but I agree. “Of course.”
He stares down at me for a long moment before his eyes return to the crown. As his hand gets close, the crown vibrates, like a cat hissing at approaching unwanted affection. He pulls back sharply. “It is blistering hot. Are you sure you are all right?” He presses the back of his hand to my forehead to check my temperature.
I reach up and rub the smooth, warm metal. “It feels fine. The temperature of tea left out.”
“Interesting.” He lies back down beside me, but this time closer than before, both of us staring at the stone ceiling above. His voice is low as he asks, “Well, that’s good, right? Easier to sleep?”
I nod, his closeness bringing a wave of nervousness. How many nights did I imagine he was there beside me while I drifted off to sleep? Countless. He is warm and solid, close enough to touch, to taste, but I keep my hands to myself.
“Um, I didn’t want to ask when we arrived, but where is your family? I’m not going to be awakened in the middle of the night by a justifiably angry husband and crying children, am I? Not that I would blame the man. Of course, one must defend one’s marriage bed from strange men in it.”
I burst out laughing. “Leon, about that…”
“Ah. The family does not exist, do they? I’m going to guess they are as real as your Adreanian citizenship? ”
My laugh slowly stops. “Sorry. All part of a carefully crafted facade to gain entrance to the Iron Castle and help its citizens in the only way I could.”
He chuckles. “I had my suspicions. You always had the look of a doe faced with an arrow when I inquired about them, and you changed the subject with alarming speed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Arra isn’t even your real name.”
Guilt guides me to honesty. “Um, well, Arra’s…Arra is not my name…” The mattress shifts as I face him. He follows my lead and turns; our noses are a few inches apart now. That sweet strawberry and earthy herb scent envelops me. I hope the sheets smell like him long after he’s slipped away from my exceedingly long life.
There are so few truths I can offer him, and when he walks away tomorrow, my real name must be one of them.
“Of course it’s not.” He gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Why would it be?”
“Can we start over?” I slip my hand from under our blanket and hold it out to him. He pauses for a moment but takes it. His hand is warm, the simple touch electrifying. A spike of desire brings the urge to take that hand to other places as he moves his thumb over my skin before reluctantly pulling away.
“I would like that very much.” He looks relieved, a little tension lifting off him.
“Hello, I’m Izadella Aranelle. Jeweler, that much is true. I like roasted duck, blackberry wine, and adventure books. I dislike peas and being cold. I have a fox named Farren. If I’m not at my cottage, I spend most of my time with two of my closest friends who live not far from here.”
Farren hops on the bed at the sound of his name and licks my face.
“Izadella is a beautiful name.” Just like with Arra , he enunciates it with an emphasis on the A at the end that sounds as sweet and rich as melted chocolate on his lips. A joyous flutter starts in my chest again. “So you just created a whole identity, didn’t you?”
“I did what I needed to do for my family, to help where it was needed, no matter what risk it took to do so. ”
He laughs, but I hear little amusement in it. “I don’t know how you were able to create a false identity, sneak into Adreania, and work in the Iron Castle under the nose of King Jedrick. That is not something one does lightly.”
Pride swells within me. “Well, with the right motivation, anything can be done, I suppose.”
“And what was your motivation?”
“Same as yours. I wanted to help those in Adreania. I needed to ensure my cousin’s survival at all costs.”
We lie in bed together under the cover of night, staring but not speaking, soaking up each other. Tiredness spreads within me, sleep reaching out its moonlit hand, but he needs to know what his concern means to me. How deeply his desire to protect me has touched me, that his care will always stay with me. “Thank you for being so concerned about my safety no matter who I am. I was truly touched that you would care so much about me and my darling imaginary children. Were they real, I would not be able to properly express my gratitude that they would have been safe. I am sure they would have had a great life where you were going to send us.”
He nods. “The destination was a cottage off by the Elbasan Sea in a thriving little village. I grew up there. It has a small farm attached to it with animals and a garden that needs some love and care but it grows the most delicious vegetables. Or at least it did. The property is not much, but it’s home.”
My stomach drops. I need to confess to him I sent Cyanna in my place. “Ah, yes, um, about that. I may have sent my cousin and twenty-two orphans to the ship in my place.” I quickly add, “I know that’s not what you or the sea captain expected, but I needed to get them to safety since I wouldn’t be able to bring supplies anymore and a war is about to start.” I wait for his reaction, hoping it’s not anger, and yet somehow knowing it won’t be.
He is quiet for a moment but lets out a robust laugh. “When I told Oliver a woman and her children would be expecting his escort, I do not think that is what he had in mind. Izadella, I’m honored you would trust me with your family. I know Cyanna. She and the children will have a beautiful life there.”
I am so delighted and relieved by his words, the sincerity there. I could kiss him but I hold back my affections. “You do? How?”
“You are not the only one who spends time trying to help those who call Beggars’ Row home. A few nights a week I provide medical attention there, including those at the orphanage.”
“Did she know you are the royal healer?” She never mentioned knowing Leon.
He shakes his head. “No, I did not let anyone know. Grayden would have had my head. I will sleep better, knowing the children are somewhere safe and at a place precious to me.”
“Is your family there now?”
“No, long gone. I was sent off around seventeen or so, and then I was shipped off to study in Versairen’s capital. They left a few years later.”
“Seventeen?” I can’t keep the horror from my voice. “But that’s so young.”
Fae children in Ellova are considered dewlings until we are fifty, although we would only appear to be around twenty-five to mortals. A dewling of that age would barely be starting lessons with the Ink Court.
He nods. “Yes, well, my mother needed me to learn medicine. It was a great school and provided the education that led me to become the royal healer. The most coveted position in the medical society. It also meant I got to meet you.”
I blush at the comparison and pull the covers closer to my chest to prevent myself from reaching out to touch him. “What’s it been like, living in the castle?”
“It had its bright moments but was mostly terrible. Jedrick has been paranoid for years; none of Grayden’s four older brothers have survived. Each death was more suspicious than the last. So Jedrick believed that Grayden would come for him once there were no other heirs. He feared Grayden, had guards around constantly whenever his son was near. Even if the crown can only be transferred in death, he still knew Grayden would try anything to become king.”
“There has to be a way to remove it without…” My throat is suddenly dry. I can’t seem to say the word out loud. Oh, Ellova’s grave, please don’t let me die with this crown still atop my head.
Leon continues, ‘The crown protects from death, or at least it should. It was meant to. The history books dictate Queen Inara wasn’t wearing it when she died. She had removed it, so we know it’s possible. It wasn’t worth her life or their daughter’s. She handed it to Drystan willingly, hoping it would spare her or at least give the daughter time to escape. He killed Inara once he had it. It’s said that the little princess was saved, though she was never seen again.”
My chest aches at the story even though I have heard it many times.
Leon is silent.
Deep in the White Library, tucked away within the Ink Court, sits Alvina’s journal. The Forger’s Journal. Since Alvina made the crown, it might have the answers I seek. It has been locked since her death. I’ve tried so many times to open it, but with the crown’s power I might be able to unlock it. The library holds many scrolls recording the lives of the first Realm Keeper, Zarella; Alvina; and Inara.
“We should sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us,” he adds after a few more moments of silence.
He has a rough shadow of stubble gracing his face. I want to reach out and rub my fingers over the short, coarse hair. His eyes are half shut. Black hair with a streak of gray falls in front of his face. Would he welcome my touch if I reached out to push it back? I know where I would lead that touch, but we don’t know what tomorrow brings, so I hold my hands to my chest.
“Good night, Leon,” I whisper while staring into those emerald eyes.
This feels right; he was meant to be here with me tonight, in my bed. It was always meant to be him. The cottage is warmer with his presence. Unlike every other night for the past century, sleep finds me easily. The events of today have drained me; my bones ache, and my heart is heavy, but when his fingers slowly lace with mine, I squeeze his hand and fall asleep with a smile on my face.