25. Chapter Twenty-Five Rhea
Chapter Twenty-Five: Rhea
“W hat is all this?” I ask Flynn as he walks in, carrying a black basket and what looks like a knowing smile. I had spent most of the day balancing between trying to forget the dream I had of him and trying to forget the orgasms I gave myself because of it. Now that he’s here, it’s taking everything I can muster not to drag my gaze down his body. But I can’t keep my eyes off of the way his hands grip the basket or my ears from hearing the strong cadence of his steps as he moves past me and into the living area. And then of course there is the way he smells and that secretive little smile and… Damn it.
I force myself to take some deep breaths as I step up next to him, my gaze anywhere other than his chest, which is at my eye level. When I finally get myself under control, I move to the couch expecting that’s where we are going to sit, but his fingers gently grab my own, halting my movements.
“I was thinking we could go outside, on the balcony.”
“The balcony?” I screech, nearly horrified. There’s no way he could know what happened on that very balcony in my dream, but I can’t help the blush that creeps up from my neck and onto my cheeks.
“Yes, is that okay?” he asks, a single brow slowly raising. His stupid handsome face glows in the candlelight, and I have to look away before I accidentally reveal how I’m feeling to him.
Gods above and below, help me . “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” I stumble as I rush past him and out into the night air.
“Alright then.” He laughs behind me, his steps following mine. He sets the basket down in the center of the balcony before coming to stand next to me, his hands laying flat on the wide stone railing. “Wow, it’s a beautiful view from up here.”
I gulp as I nod. My head is too filled with thoughts and memories of things that haven’t actually happened—but felt real enough—to respond. After a few moments, Flynn turns and starts taking items out of the basket. I stand back and watch as he lays down a dark blue blanket and a variety of different foods in glass containers. Next, he pulls out two plates and two forks—an item I know how to use in theory, but in actuality never have. When he finishes setting everything up, he spreads his arms out to the sides.
“It’s a picnic,” he declares as he smiles at me. “Normally, you have them in a meadow or underneath a tree, and it’s usually daytime, but we can make this work.” He takes a seat on the edge of the blanket and gestures for me to do the same. The food in the middle smells incredible, the air now laced with things I have no name for.
“How did you get all of this?” I ask, my fingers trailing along the edge of my plate.
Flynn watches the movement, lost in a daze for a moment before he looks back up at me. “I had Tienne and Erica help,” he explains, gesturing to the meat at the center of everything before continuing, “This is roasted chicken. Then we have a mixed green salad, roasted potatoes, and a special dessert that I’m keeping a secret.” All foods that I have read about but have never experienced eating.
His eyes sparkle under the moonlight, doing nothing to ease the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my body come alive just from being near him. He holds out his hand for my plate, and I tell him I want to try a little bit of everything.
“Let’s see if roasted chicken is actually worth being your favorite food,” I tease, poking a piece with my fork and bringing it to my mouth. The texture of it is silkier than I thought it would be, since nearly all the meat I’ve ever eaten has been dried for easy storage. Once, Alexi brought me freshly cooked pork, but that was much greasier than this. The flavors are savory and earthy and something else I don’t have a name for. It’s salty too, and when I clear my throat and move to stand up and get some water, Flynn quickly flips open the lid of the basket and pulls out a small glass bottle, the color too dark to see what the liquid inside is.
“This is just fruit juice,” he says, noting the way I look warily at it. “I was going to bring wine, but I wasn’t sure if you had ever had alcohol before, and I didn’t want your first experience with it to be here.” He uncorks the bottle and hands it to me. Tentatively lifting it to my nose, I sniff, the fruity scent pleasant enough that I take a drink. It’s overly sweet and a little tangy, the flavors coating my tongue and throat delightfully.
I hand the bottle back to him as I respond, “It’s really good. So is the chicken. I suppose it isn’t the worst food to have as your favorite.” I chuckle at his triumphant smile.
Flynn snorts, turning his attention back to his food as we eat in contented silence. Eventually Bella comes out, leaning over to try everything leftover on my plate. I’ve been full from eating before, but never quite like this. My body feels different in the wake of eating food freshly prepared. I offer to clean up the dishes once we are both done, but Flynn shakes his head and carefully stacks everything up to place back into the basket, pulling a small bundle wrapped in parchment paper out before he does so.
“When I saw that the baker had made this for today, I had Tienne and Erica grab extra for us,” he says as his hands begin to unwrap the item until a familiar scent permeates the air.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, a half-choked laugh coming from me. Laying in the center of the brown paper are two slices of lemon loaf.
“It’s your favorite, right?” he asks. I can feel him looking me over, feel his excitement start to falter because of the way I freeze as I stare at the dessert. Emotions flash through me as a knot grows in my throat. Its jagged edges make it hard to breathe, hard to think past. “Sunshine…” His voice trails off as I meet his gaze, unable to stop the tears flowing out of the corners of my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, quickly wiping at the wetness now streaking down my cheeks.
“Talk to me, what can I do?”
I shake my head, clearing my throat as I look out into the night sky. “Alexi was the last person to bring me lemon loaf before he died. He was the only person to ever bring me any treat like this before you, and I just—” I inhale and hold it, my chest expanding painfully before I allow the breath to slowly seep out of me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why this keeps happening.”
“What keeps happening?” He moves closer to me as he asks the question.
I keep my gaze on those winking stars, still imagining they are waving hello. Like how I’m drawn to the sun, the silver-flecked sky of night is one that brings a different kind of comfort. It’s so similar to the comfort I have when I dream of the Middle. A dream that is not quite a dream.
“I keep trying to force myself not to feel,” I start, my voice no louder than the rustling of the leaves on the trees in the distance. “And most of the time it works. I’ve tucked away emotions that will only remind me of how much I’ve lost—placing them into these dark pockets in my mind and locking them up tight.” My gaze drops as my fingers play with the fabric of my dress. “But sometimes I feel like I’ve been dropped in the middle of an unknown forest with no direction. And I wander around, trying to find landmarks that signal a way out, but instead I just go in circles. Whenever I feel I’m close to freedom, I’m quickly reminded that I’m back where I started.”
The double meaning of my words weighs heavily on me. I don’t expect Flynn to understand, given what little he actually knows about me, but when I lift my eyes to his, he peers at me with a recognition that he shouldn’t have. With a compassion that I’m surprised to see.
“Have you ever felt so desperately lost like that?” I whisper as my lip wobbles a little with the question.
Flynn slides his hand tentatively under my own, pausing to give me time to back away from his touch. Instead, I interlace our fingers, studying the way my fair skin gleams against the tan of his. Our palms connecting are like a tree taking root or a flower blooming in the sun. His warmth soaks into me, prodding at those dark corners inside me with something lighter.
“I have,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. “Recently, in fact.” When I gesture for him to continue, he responds by shaking his head playfully and looking up to the stars. “For a long, long time, I felt the weight of what has been expected of me resting on my shoulders like an immovable boulder.” His brows draw together, his concentration moving to where our hands meet. “And then one day, it morphed into something else. Suddenly, the pressure of those expectations shifted. And for the first time in my life, I felt what it was like to not know what to do—to be given answers and, in response, only have more questions.” His dark smoky eyes hold mine then, conveying words that I don’t know how to translate.
Well that was about as vague of an answer as mortally possible. “Do you still feel it?” I pry. “Not knowing what to do?”
His lips quirk into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, but also, no.”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because if so, you sort of did a shit job.”
Flynn barks out a laugh, his eyes wide with surprise. “The princess curses. That is unexpected.” His heated gaze cuts through that cold sadness that had settled into my bones.
“I never claimed to act like royalty, a fact you should be more than aware of by now.”
Flynn chuckles, the sound pushing away that thick feeling of turmoil from earlier as he squeezes my hand before letting it go and saying, “That is true, though you are more regal than anyone in this kingdom.”
I snort at that, tucking my hair behind my ear. Flynn cleans up the rest of the dishes and leftover food, leaving the lemon loaf on top of the basket before moving it off the blanket. Then he lowers onto his back, one arm curling under his head as he pats the spot next to him.
“Can you tell me about Alexi?” he inquires softly, staring up at the night sky. I study his side profile, noting the way that, even in the dimness of night, he glows like a star himself.
“Why?”
“For two reasons. One, I like hearing you talk,” he says seriously as he pats the ground next to him again. “And two, because you shouldn’t have to hold in what you’re feeling anymore. He was important to you, Rhea, and the more you fight that urge to speak of him, the more it will fester inside of you like an unhealed wound.”
I suppose his words make sense, enough to at least move my body so that we are lying together, shoulders just barely touching.
“You also aren’t alone anymore,” he adds, interlacing our hands again between our bodies. We both turn to look at each other, the sensation of our closeness making my magic hum in what feels like approval and lighting me up from within. I’m sure it must be noticeable, but Flynn’s eyes never stray from my own. “Tell me,” he says again.
So I do. I start with the first time I saw Alexi when I was a small child and how his imposing presence frightened me. I recall how he acted as my teacher and all the many things he took the time to make sure I knew. I tell Flynn about how Alexi brought me Bella, though I leave out the part of me healing her. As I continue sharing memories and moments I’ve never told anyone else, I can feel it—that impossible, invisible weight easing partially off of me. Like someone starting to saw through the chains that attached me to it. No, not someone, Flynn. We laugh together when I talk about how Alexi avoided my questions on sex—though my mind does briefly return to the previous night’s dream. He asks me questions all throughout, eagerly engaging me to share more and more.
Then it’s time to talk about Alexi’s death, and my voice stalls. Flynn squeezes my hand again, a steady reminder of what he said earlier. You aren’t alone anymore. So for the first time since I watched it happen, I recall every detail of that night. My body trembles as I talk, my heart beating soundly against my bones like it’s rattling to break free. Flynn is so still as he listens that I have to look at him a few times to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. When I finish, a tear trailing down my cheek as I explain my raging guilt at being the cause of his death, Flynn pulls us up to sit. He gently wipes my tear away before he drags his finger across my jaw to hook under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. Like this, there is nowhere for either of us to hide except in the depths of the other’s gaze. With the moon shining above and a gentle floral-laced breeze blowing through, a shift happens between us. It is soft and sweet and completely unexpected in a way that feels frightening—and also thrilling.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Rhea,” he says, his thumb gingerly sliding across my skin from where he stays holding my chin. “None of it, absolutely none of it, is your fault. I need you to understand that.”
“But how can it not be? I’m the reason the king was angry. I’m the reason Alexi was being watched.”
“Because you aren’t responsible for the actions of King Dolian,” he declares, his voice low and menacing as he says my uncle’s name. “And the fact that he’s made you feel this way, made you feel like you were the one who drove that sword in, it makes me—” He cuts himself off abruptly, letting go of my chin to run a hand through his hair. “It infuriates me. You don’t deserve it. Any of it.”
My eyes move back and forth between his as I read the emotions on his face. Anger, yes, but something else lies there too. His hand drops to his lap, the other still firmly laced with mine as his thumb runs back and forth in comforting strokes. A coiled quiet lingers, and I don’t know if it is filled with tension because of the topic or because of words left unsaid. Either way, I decide to break it with some humor.
“Any fascinating stories with your legendary swordplay?” I ask, bumping his knee with my own. Flynn nearly chokes on his laugh, dragging us back down until we are looking up at the sky again.
Our hands stay holding onto each other for the rest of the night. The moon is already in the west when Flynn decides he should leave. Standing on opposite sides of the doorway, he leans over and kisses the back of my hand with a wink, which makes me roll my eyes. And when I climb the stairs to my loft, exhausted but inexplicably at ease in a way that is so foreign to me, I can’t help the smile that breaks through.
When I awake, after a few hours of restful sleep, I find a note on the floor in front of the door.
SUNSHINE,
I AM GOING TO VISIT YOU THIS AFTERNOON. LET’S READ TOGETHER AGAIN. ALSO, I BELIEVE YOU OWE ME A QUESTION IN OUR GAME, SO CAN YOU TELL ME WHEN YOUR BIRTHDAY IS? THINK OF SOMETHING GOOD TO ASK ME IN RETURN.
SINCERELY,
FLYNN
“This afternoon?” I squeeze the letter to my chest. The mental list of questions that has only grown the longer I’ve known Flynn runs through my mind.
Bella comes down, stretching her legs and yawning as I get our breakfast ready. Taking my meal out on the balcony, I sigh as soon as the rays hit my skin. The magic inside of me curls and hums, warming me up from the inside as well.
My eyes look out over the glistening water at the same few ships I see floating there every morning. It’s easy to be reminded of the monotony of my day, of the way my life replays itself like I’m stuck in a loop. Except that’s not exactly true anymore. The loop was disrupted the day a guard named Flynn showed up and saw me. Truly saw me. I chew on my lip as I think about the fact that I will have to leave him when I escape. I wish I could ask him to come with me. My heart flutters a little at that thought. He probably has an established life here, however, and friends that rely on him. My thoughts keep tumbling over themselves as I reach for a piece of bread off of my plate when my hand freezes halfway to my mouth. What if he is with someone. I assume he isn’t married because there would be a ring on his finger. Wouldn’t there? But he could definitely be seeing someone and I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t want to believe he would do something like that, but how would I know? With my limited experience, am I really the best judge of character? I know what my question for Flynn will be.
Groaning, I set the food back down and tilt my head up towards the mostly blue sky, just a few fluffy white clouds floating overhead. Bella comes to sit at my feet, my hand immediately dropping to the top of her head.
“Bella, tell me everything you know about men.” I look down at her, her golden irises gleaming in the sunlight as she turns her head to look at me. She huffs out a breath and turns back to look at the lake through the railing. Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head and chuckle. “Yeah, that’s about as much as I know too. Though maybe I know a bit more since I can read books.” Bella shifts to look at me again, and I burst out in laughter. She almost looks like she is scowling.
I finish my food and head up to my loft to bathe and get dressed. My fingers drag across my collection of newer dresses that I’ve laid on my bed after my bath as I try to decide which one to wear. There is a cream-colored one that is more flowy than the others, the fabric silken. Slipping it on, I delight in the feel of it against my skin. I sit at the vanity and brush out my hair before tying the long strands back into a low ponytail.
When knocking sounds downstairs, my heart flips in my chest. I quickly make my way to the door and pull it open, but my smile falls a little when I take in Flynn’s appearance. He has dark circles marring the tan skin under his lovely eyes.
“Are you okay?” I breathe out, worry twirling in my stomach.
Flynn just smiles—a world-endingly beautiful thing—before he nods his head. “Yes, perfectly fine.” I step to the side to let him in, shutting the door. “You look beautiful,” he says smoothly, and heat rises to my cheeks as I dip my chin.
“Thank you.” I reply, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Have you picked out a book for us to read?” My eyes follow him as he takes a step towards the library, unable to help the way they drag up and down his impressive figure. The muscles of his thighs strain against his black trousers, while the size of his shoulders speak to the strength he must possess. Swallowing, my inspection of him continues until my gaze finds his again.
“Sunshine,” he murmurs as he runs a hand through his hair. Is it odd to be jealous of that hand? “I would love to know what you are thinking about right now.”
My lips pinch together as I gesture ahead of us and completely ignore his request. “Shall we?” He blows out a breath through his grin, shaking his head as he follows me into the library. “Is today a day off for you?” I ask as he browses the books.
“It is,” he says, glancing down at me with a smile.
We jokingly argue over which book to read, Flynn picking out another history book as dull as The History Of The Five Realms, while I gravitate to one of my romance stories with the hope that it will mean Flynn has to read a more sexual scene. I laugh internally at the thought and employ everything in my arsenal that might work to get him to agree—which just consists of me pushing my lower lip out in a pout and fluttering my eyelashes at the same time. It works though because Flynn gives up and agrees to read from I Have A Dream, a romance about two ill-fated mortals falling in love.
Facing each other on opposite sides of the bench, we take turns reading, alternating chapters and often doing ridiculously exaggerated voices for the characters. It’s when we are about two-thirds of the way through that I realize my plan has backfired. The chapter begins with the two characters kissing for the first time, and my face heats as I read about the way their hands travel over each other’s bodies. I keep my eyes on the book, holding it in front of me like a shield, not daring to look at Flynn who hasn’t moved once since I started reading. When the characters start undressing, I pause, my mouth opening and closing in silent protest.
“Why did you stop, Rhea? It was just starting to get interesting.” I lower the book just enough to see the roguish grin on Flynn’s face. He has one leg extended, one knee bent, and his arms folded over his chest.
My eyes narrow as I clear my throat and look back at the words on the page. “His hand brushed against the underside of my breast, sending goosebumps across my flesh. My breath hitched as he moved his hand higher, his other traveling further south to where an aching need had taken root.” Gods, I was burning up on the inside, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of embarrassment or desire. Or both. “I begged him to move quicker, to bring his large fingers to where I needed them. The first brush of them against the sensitive nub at the apex of my thighs was a fire roaring to life. It raged and burned the longer his fingers toyed, until he plunged one of them inside me.” My toes curl, a motion I am sure Flynn can see where he sits across from me. My voice is a mortifying breathy rasp as I continue. “The fingers of his other hand toyed with my nipple as he pressed himself closer to me. The outline of his large cock—”
“Fucking gods, stop.” It is a gentle command, but when I lower the book again to look at Flynn—my heart in my throat—he appears to be anything but calm.
His face tilts up to the ceiling, a faint flush on his cheeks, while his fingers grip the pillows on either side of him so tightly I am nervous that he will somehow tear them to shreds. The column of his throat begs me to caress it with my stare. Something ravenous blooms in my chest when he looks at me—hunger swirling in those dark eyes. I need to break this tension; not because I want to, but because it appears like he does. Like he is holding himself back. Though, that is the smart thing to do. He is a guard, and I am a princess locked in a tower by a ruthless, vile king. We are forbidden in every way, and the last thing we need to add to that complicated mix are actions that can’t be undone.
“Summer Solstice,” I blurt out with a grimace.
“What?” My words clear the glaze from his eyes as he blinks rapidly and loosens his grip on the pillows. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he blows it out through his mouth slowly as he levels his gaze at me.
“My birthday,” I clarify. “It’s on the Summer Solstice.”
“That is soon,” he states, his shoulders rolling back as he relaxes a little bit more.
Nodding, I lay my book down at my side and chew on my lip as I contemplate. “Can I ask you a question?”
He stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Anything.”
It’s quiet while I think, the sunlight coming in from the window bathing us in its glow. “Are you with anyone?” It comes out hardly more than a whisper, barely more than a feathering of words past my lips.
“What do you mean?” He is looking so intently at me that I have to remind myself to take a breath.
“You know, a partner. A companion.” I gesture in the air with my hands as I continue, “A lover.”
“Ah,” he says, sitting up and scooting closer until one leg hangs off the bench and the knee of his other brushes against my own. “It would be odd that I was coming here to see you if I was, don’t you agree?”
“I do, but then again I don’t exactly know how things work in the outside world. Maybe that would be a normal occurrence for a man,” I shrug, letting a little of my insecurity out into the open between us. He leans in, his perfect scent surrounding me as I breathe in deeply. It unfairly clouds my mind so that all my thoughts are about him. Though in truth, that’s always the case whenever he is near.
“It might be a normal occurrence for a different man, but not for me. There is no one else—here or back home.” His eyes are dark pools of glittering sincerity before he adds, so very quietly, “There is only you.”