Chapter Twenty-Four #2
“Gone? You don’t remember anything of your childhood?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry for that. You said your father had the traveling sickness?”
“Yes. He taught me to steal before he died—a final gift to help me stay alive. Don’t be noticed. Don’t take more than you need. Don’t take from those who need it more than you.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
I looked at him. “Even though he was a thief?”
“Once upon a time, my ancestors destroyed four countries to make Carethia. He wanted you to stay alive. Your father taught you how to live; our father taught us how to die.” The prince looked over at me.
“If a coin in the market from someone who wouldn’t miss it was the price to be paid for your survival, I think it’s a fair one. ”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never have expected a Lys’Careth to approve of my being a thief. As much as I preferred to deny it, he wasn’t what I’d assumed him to be. Maybe he’d reached the same conclusion about me.
“Do you ever wonder what came before your father?”
I paused, but he’d been honest with me, so I would be honest with him. Maybe, in the darkness, where we were just people who’d once been children, who’d seen the grim reality of the world, we could be honest with each other. We had the freedom to be honest with each other.
“I’ve been having dreams since the Aetheric practitioner. Me at home. My mother on the ground. A lot of blood. My father picking me up and carrying me away.”
“You think your mother was killed?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m still not certain if they were memories or just nightmares. Parts of them felt familiar, but they haven’t…replaced the empty spots in the bookshelves of my mind.”
He made a sound of amusement. “Talia said you’d been at the library.”
“It’s a gods-damned mess. Your half brother didn’t do you any favors there. You could probably hire Wren to fix it.”
“Oh?”
“I think she’s offended by the disorder.”
“That seems…very Wren.”
Quiet fell, our fingers linked together as blossoms moved in the breeze—and a bright blue star shot across the sky.
“A harbinger,” I said. “The ghostfinders say a falling star means an Anima will bring you trouble soon.”
“I think Anima have brought you more than enough trouble for a lifetime, Fox. Do you think you lost your memory because the truth was so hard?”
“I don’t know. But if it’s real, maybe it’s why I have a hard time with blood.”
“Maybe,” he said, and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, and for the loss of your mother. But I’m glad you’re here.” I glanced over at him and found his gaze on me, his eyes visibly blue even in the torchlit darkness. “You said you wanted your freedom. What is that to you?”
“I could wake up and not worry about hunger or violence. I could know that Wren was safe and we wouldn’t be used as pawns. I could walk outside…and just keep going. Isn’t that what we all want?”
“As it turns out, no. I’m not sure that’s what I want.”
There was a hunger in his eyes, the same hunger I’d seen before. Against my better judgment, I felt an answering response deep in my belly, like the lines of that complicated tapestry were knotting again.
I couldn’t handle any more knots. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is it so hard to believe that someone wants you?”
“Only if that someone is the farrier’s son.”
“I’m to compete with the Ensi and a farrier’s son, too?”
“Compete for what?”
“For you, Fox.”
I stared at him. “Are you insane? We’ve talked about this. You’re a prince.”
“With a palace and everything. Why are you in my palace?”
“For my protection.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Of course.”
He leaned forward and looked down at me, his eyes lakes of blue. “Would it be so hard, Little Fox, to admit that you are wanted? And that you want me in return?”
We looked at each other for a moment, that storm building between us, swirling around us, thickening until it obscured everything else of the world. It hid the obstacles, the barriers, the monsters that waited around us, watching for weakness.
There was no pretense of royalty now. Only man and woman, breath short, bodies taut with wanting. And me, staring down a ravine that I shouldn’t cross.
“We’re dangerous to each other.”
“No,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “Not to each other.”
“You know what I mean. Some distances can’t be crossed. So it’s better to just…”
“To just?” he prompted.
I looked away from the earnestness in his eyes.
I was trying to be reasonable. To be smart.
As a thief, I’d wanted many things. Gorgeous, expensive, rare, and sacred things.
I’d wanted them so bad they’d made my fingers tingle.
Most of the time, I hadn’t allowed myself to steal them.
The time hadn’t been right, or the mark, or the object.
Maybe I didn’t deserve it. This, or any of this luxury I’d been thrown into. But tonight, in this land beyond mine, in this world of incense and music and joy and wine, I let myself take.
I leaned forward, let my eyes close, and pressed my lips to his.
He drew me closer, his mouth a revelation.
He kissed me like he’d hungered for me for a lifetime, had waited an eternity for the chance.
One hand slid into my hair, and he tilted his head to deepen the sensation, his tongue sweeping over mine.
He tasted of sweetwine and temptation, and moaned with satisfaction when I reciprocated, my tongue dancing with his.
Worries disappeared. There was only the pair of us, only my hands on his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw. Only this moment.
I ran my hands down his chest, the muscle hard as iron beneath my fingers.
He went still, maybe imagining that I’d moved that hand lower and was gripping his already rigid erection.
But I could tell he was working to hold himself back, to move more slowly than he might have.
His desire amplified mine. My body was warm, my breasts aching with need.
I wanted his hands on me, even if he wore a crown.
A hand slid to my breast, long fingers gentle and stroking, and his thumb across my nipple nearly undid me.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and his tightened around my waist so there was nothing between us—between us and sweet satisfaction—but thin layers of fabric.
Like the tiger on his banner, he was coiled and quivering with power.
I imagined what it might feel like to have his body over mine, to look into his eyes when pleasure overtook him.
Even if he was fire—as dangerous and all-consuming as the Aetheric pain—I wondered how it might feel to be burned.
He pulled back, and it seemed the heat had gone out of the day, leaving me suddenly cold.
“Why?” I asked, my voice a bare whisper.
“I don’t want to rush.”
His control was impressive.
“That was…” I said into the resulting silence. And didn’t have the courage to say anything else. Of course I’d liked it. Who wouldn’t have liked it?
“It was what?” he asked.
“It was…fine.” And I swallowed down the truth. That it was like good wine. Like breath. Like springtime buds and sun-warmed skin. Like air and good sleep and a beautiful breeze. Like treasure.
He propped his head on his hand. “Fine?”
“Sure. Do you think it wasn’t fine?”
“I think I did some very good work. And I’d be happy to give it another try if you’re less than convinced.”
“I think we’ve done enough.”
“For now?” There was hope in his eyes, and it was too bright, like staring into the sun, so I looked away. But I was smiling when I did it.
“I won’t pressure you,” he said. “The choice is yours, as it always has been. But I…would like to give you pleasure.”
“Pleasure?”
“Pleasure,” he said. He leaned toward me again, and this kiss was a delicious whisper.
His hand again found my breast, and he rubbed a thumb across my nipple, sending a spark through my body that had more of that wall between us crumbling down into rubble.
And then, a hand at my ankle, fingers trailing slowly up my leg, his gaze on my face.
And then his fingers were on my thigh, and he brushed against the center of my body. I sucked in a breath. “Nik.”
“That is my name,” he said, and then shifted his hand between my legs, began to move, with just enough pressure against the center of my body to have my back arching, my body reacting to his touch even if my mind still rebelled against the idea of being so intimate, so vulnerable, with someone who had been my enemy.
“Just feel it,” he whispered, and kissed me softly, and pleasure rose like a wave before breaking across my body. Another soft kiss. “I want more from you, Fox. Much more. But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”
I felt the first raindrop on my forehead, and barely a heartbeat passed before that drop became a proper rain.
“But perhaps not here and now,” he said with a grin.
We stood up. I pulled on my cloak, glanced at him, and grinned.
“I’ll race you,” I said, and didn’t wait for his answer.
He cursed and ran after me.
“You must have cheated,” he said breathlessly, hands on his hips and a spark in his eyes when he reached the stone courtyard a heartbeat after me. We walked to the door.
“I didn’t need to cheat. I’m just faster than you. And I’m disappointed to discover you’re a sore loser.”
“Please. I’m just furious I was beaten by a cheater.”
A guard opened the door and we walked inside, where Orda waited with a stack of linens. Her expression was impressively mild.
“Your Highness,” she said, extending them toward us. He took one, gave it to me, took another. “Thank you, Orda.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness,” she said, and gave me a wink as she strode efficiently down the hallway.
I dried my face, then squeezed water from my hair. “How long do you think she waited for us?” I asked quietly when her footsteps had faded.