27. Chapter Twenty-Seven Rhea
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Rhea
B ella and I spend the next day reading and relaxing, which I suppose is like every other day. Despite the repetition, I can’t stop looking outside to see how close the sun is to setting, knowing Flynn’s shift will end and he will be here soon.
I choose an incredibly soft dark blue dress that is sleeveless and comes down to my ankles. Small suns with wavy flares embroidered in golden thread cover the bodice. The billowy skirt flows from the waist where additional golden thread cinches it, showing off more of my figure than I’m used to. The dress has more buttons than any of the other ones I own, and there is a small gap where I couldn’t reach them all. Twirling back and forth in front of my vanity, I stare at my reflection, noticing that my eyes look a brighter green today.
My heart skips a beat at the thought of wearing a dress like this in front of Flynn. My emotions have felt so complicated since he came into my life. Despite the fact that I’ve done everything I can to keep things locked in boxes and pushed into the darkest parts of me, some of my emotions keep rising to the surface, like oil in water. One moment I’m washed away by the tidal wave of heartbreak, and the next I’m set back up and standing at the shore again. Like now, as I wait for Flynn with happy anticipation. Maybe that’s why I feel so jumbled up inside—a war is going on with two halves of my soul. I experienced happiness with Alexi, but it was only in pockets of time where he would sneak in to visit me. There was always an underlying sense of urgency to it. With Flynn, it just feels different—new and utterly complicated.
To get my mind off of everything I’m trying not to think or feel too deeply about, I write a letter to Tienne and Erica. Besides wanting to thank them for all the gifts they’ve given me, I also know I need their help to get supplies for my attempted escape. Grabbing the ink and quill, I practice a few lines on a separate piece of paper before starting my letter.
Dear Tienne and Erica,
I wanted to thank you for the dresses! They are so lovely and much nicer than anything I’ve ever owned (as you are probably aware). I hope to be able to repay you for them someday. I also wanted to thank you for all the other gifts you’ve given me. I was hoping I could ask you both for one more favor. Is there any way a satchel and a pair of shoes could be brought to me?
I pause, lifting the quill up from the paper as I contemplate about how much I should tell them. The letter is rather vague if I just leave it at that, but I can’t word it in a way that won’t clue them in to my plan of escape. What if they were also forced to take a similar blood oath as the guards? It’s safer for both myself and them to not say too much. While I want to trust them, what if their kindness is an act? Just as Flynn’s could be .
I force that thought away and finish the letter by simply signing my name. If it is considered rude, well, I’ve been locked up in a tower for nearly twenty-two years, so surely they will show me some understanding. Keeping the letter on the tea table for Flynn to deliver, I sit on the couch with Bella—a book in my hands to distract me. The sunset eventually gives way to night, and when it’s too dark to see the words on the page, I light candles all around the room. I’ll have to ask Flynn to bring me more, as I have never used this many at once.
When his knocks finally sound, my pulse increases as I run my fingers through my hair to smooth it out and straighten my dress. My nerves leave me feeling frazzled, even my magic coils inside me in anticipation. But that excitement is momentarily clouded with guilt, like fog rolling in from all angles and covering those caged emotions as they rattle again to remind me that they are still there. My promise to Alexi replays in my mind.
Still, when I open the door to him standing on the landing, there is no stopping the way my stomach dips and my breath hitches. His eyes catch mine as they always do, and like those galaxies I see in my dreams, I’m powerless against their pull. He smiles, and the fullness of it causes my already pounding heart to skip a beat in its flutter. He’s dressed in all black again today, though I swear his tunic is tighter along his chest and biceps. Breathe, Rhea. As if waiting for the command, my lungs suck in a shaky gasp of air.
“Hello, Sunshine,” he says, walking through the doorway as I step back to give him room.
“Hello, Fly—” My words are halted when he pulls something out of a black satchel he has with him. He holds a small glass bowl that’s illuminated with a bright golden light. It subtly lights a small portion of the room instantly in a liquid golden color, like Flynn has pulled a tiny chunk of the sun down into this very space.
“It’s a flame gem,” he says, walking over to the tea table and setting it down. The gem is no bigger than a small pebble, but it casts enough light that everything within a three foot radius is lit. “I figured you would enjoy having a light that you can move around with you more easily but that won’t be seen from the castle. You’ll have to charge it in the sunlight during the day and then use this cloth to cover it at night when you’re ready for bed.” He lays down a small square of black fabric next to it on the table, his eyes moving to mine.
My hands are layered over my chest, feeling the thump of my heart as I look at the gem. Pure joy tugs the corners of my lips as I laugh, thinking about how much easier it will be to read at night. How I won’t have to huddle up to a small candle flame to try and make out the words on the page. My heart flips at the idea that he thought of me while finding this gem—one I didn’t believe was real . He had said they were difficult to get, so I wonder how he came across this one. When I look at him to thank him, the words get caught in my throat. He looks at me with wide eyes, an astonished gleam to them.
I lift a brow and gesture towards the table. “Why do you look so surprised?” I ask. Confused, I turn my head to look around the tower, trying to see what he sees. I’m not sure I could ever see this place as more than just a cold, suffocating prison, but I suppose the golden light pouring out of the gem does cast a pretty glow against the stones. “You said these gems were all over the castle, yes?” I ask lightly.
“I have never seen you smile like that before,” he says, voice gravelly and much closer behind me.
I gaze over my shoulder, having to tilt my head back to look at him. His dark irises sparkle—flecks of silver mixed into the slate color reflecting the gem’s light.
“You missed a few buttons on your dress,” he whispers.
Excitement tingles my fingers and knots my stomach as I nod my head at my purposeful mistake. I don’t know what possessed me to wear a dress I could barely reach all the buttons for, but as I slipped it on earlier, I had the idea that maybe if I left a few undone, Flynn would notice. Like he did the first time we met when I was too nervous and heartbroken to let him near. But now, every time I picture him, a need once foreign to me claws up my throat. I should ignore it; a relationship of any kind is forbidden. Forbidden by the king, forbidden by the fact that he is supposed to be my guard, forbidden by common sense . And yet…
“I did,” I counter with equal quiet.
Two words, yet it feels like the world pauses at them. He takes a step closer until there’s only a small space separating us, the heat from his body caressing the skin on my back. He doesn’t say anything or reach out to touch me, waiting for me to give him permission. Flynn’s always been so attentive to my reactions around physical touch, but right now, all I can focus on is how near he is to me and how I’m silently begging him to move even closer.
“I need you, Flynn,” I breathe out the words, my heart racing and blood pounding in my ears, “to help.”
His eyes grow impossibly darker as he inhales a sharp breath. The air feels thick around us, my body buzzing from his proximity. I’m acutely aware of the naked skin on my upper back, though I feel like so much more is exposed. Tension builds like that of a thunderstorm—taut, electrifying, and wild. I look away from him as he slowly and gently gathers up my long hair. His fingertips graze the base of my neck when he bundles the strands to one side and drapes them over my shoulder. Heat follows where his skin meets mine, yet shivers break out over my body. Deliberately, leisurely, his deft hands work to put all the remaining buttons through their matching loops, pausing longer than necessary on the last one. Breathing deeply, I’m surrounded by that incredible scent of his—it’s crisp and clean and wholly like a breeze that’s been scraped along the nearby trees.
“You look so beautiful.” His voice is a low, decadent ribbon that slowly and seductively wraps around me. “Do you want to dance?”
I still as panic flares within me. “I don’t know how to dance,” I rasp, nerves causing my hands to tremble.
“I will show you.” His fingers grip mine slowly before he walks around to face me. My smooth skin brushes against the calluses of his palms, and a curious ache to ask him how he got them blooms in my stomach. Is it strange to want to know everything about him? To have the desire to spend hours talking about his past or what he likes to do for fun or his favorite food? My face feels flushed at the thought as I tilt my head up to look at him. Taking in my expression, his hand tightens on mine. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his chin dipping and causing the strands of dark hair hanging over his forehead to rustle.
“I do,” I exclaim quickly, “it’s just… what if I’m terrible at it?”
“Then I’ll help you get better,” he answers, his smile bright even in the subtle light. And isn’t that the truth of it—of how he treats me? I have been shaped and molded by the confines of this prison all my life. Beaten and broken by a man with no compassion or love for me. But I never get the sense that Flynn wants to form me into anything other than who I already am. As if this splintered and heartbroken version of me is exactly what he wants. He doesn’t want to change me; he only wants to help. “Besides, I’m good enough to counteract how bad you will be.”
I scoff, slapping his arm playfully as he places his hand on my lower back. The touch is light, barely any pressure, and yet it’s all I can focus on. My chest rises and falls in harsh movements as I lean into him a little more.
“Put the hand I’m not holding on my shoulder,” he instructs. I do as he says, my fingers pushing onto the fabric of his tunic and into the hard muscle underneath. “This is called a box step waltz,” he says before launching into the details of the dance and how I am to move my feet. I fail on the first few attempts, constantly tripping over myself and him. Flynn enjoys it when I mess up though, and part of me wonders if it’s because he gets to catch and balance me when I’m about to fall over. Or maybe it’s because of the way I laugh at myself in embarrassment as I trip, his eyes lingering on my mouth when I do. As moments pass, we move closer and closer. His large hand engulfs mine as he holds it tenderly to his chest.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, trying not to focus too hard on how I need to move my feet.
“My parents made me take dancing lessons when I was younger,” he says, laughing at the surprised look on my face. He continues to guide my steps, our pace beginning to quicken.
“What are they like?” I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface of knowing who Flynn is, despite our letter passing and time together. It’s like every part of me is begging to find all the details that shine a light on who he is. I want to know everything.
His head tilts to the side in contemplation, his eyes gleaming and looking just past me, as if he can see his parents here now. “My mother is very kind and empathetic. She’s soft-hearted but fiercely protective. My father is patient, loving, incredibly smart, and devoted. They were wed relatively young but fell in love at first sight,” he chuckles, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Or so they say.”
I hum in response, dropping my gaze to his chest. “I wish I had gotten to know my parents,” I whisper, my feet now moving to the steps of the dance without conscious thought. I dance on the tips of my toes, and because of Flynn’s height, my eyes are in perfect alignment with his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he says gently, offering support in his words without trying to fix what can’t be undone. My dress flutters around my legs as I move through the waltz. A content silence blankets us, the flame gem and candles illuminating the space with golden light. It is all too fantastical—to be here in this moment with him.
“I think I like dancing after all,” I beam, shifting the conversation. His lips part and his eyes search mine as our bodies continue moving. The attention from him makes me feel warm and cared for, like a rose tended to in a garden.
“I guess that means I’m not so bad of a teacher, then,” he grins, those dark eyes ensnaring mine.
As we dance to a made-up melody only we can hear, the tower begins to fade away so that I only see him. Awareness of the way his body is pressed up against mine as we move sets me ablaze. Every point of contact is a spark, my body seeking the heat of it until I can’t push myself further into him. The thought causes a flush to rise to my cheeks, one I’m hoping can be explained away by the exertion of dancing. Flynn’s movements falter for the first time as his eyes bounce between mine. Whatever he sees in them is enough to distract him. It takes me a moment to realize we’ve stopped moving, the surroundings of the tower slowly coming back into place—though the details are hazy. Only Flynn remains crystal clear.
“You are absolutely stunning, do you know that?” he questions, his eyes never leaving mine. “I believe you are the most alluring person in all the realms.” The light of the flame gem gives the skin of his face, neck, and forearms a golden hue. His features are so striking—so perfect—that he almost looks otherworldly.
“No one has ever said that to me,” I breathe. This moment feels impossible, like trying to walk on a cloud but hesitating with each step and expecting to fall through to the ground below. To find reality again. “And you haven’t been to the other kingdoms.”
“I don’t need to leave this one to know that those words are true,” he counters, lowering his head slightly.
The softness of my body fills in the gaps left by the firmness of his, and it creates a sensation that feels like I’m transcending the limits of what it means to exist in this moment. That’s the thing with Flynn; being with him feels like I’m running forward through time. Sunrises, sunsets, the moon and stars… they all are meaningless when he’s here with me. Especially when he looks at me like I might be someone he cares about—like I matter to him.
His eyes dip down to my lips for a moment, the movement making me lift just a fraction higher on my toes to try and close that last remaining distance. Kiss me. The thought of his mouth on mine has heat flooding through me with each breath that I take. That craving sweeps away every rational thought in my mind, every reason why we shouldn’t do this. The sensations of my dress rustling against my skin, his warm hand holding mine, our bodies pressing so closely—it’s a heightened realization of just how much I am yearning for him. He lowers his head slowly towards me, his breath tickling my lips as his gaze holds mine and—
A high-pitched whining sounds from behind us, startling us both into taking a step apart. The intoxication of the moment dissipates as we both turn to look at Bella, who is stretched out on the couch. She lets out another high pitched whine, the sound like a frustrated wail. Flynn chuckles, letting my hand go to walk over to Bella. He squats down and scratches the top of her head and bottom of her chin.
My cheeks puff up with air before I blow it out and tuck my hair behind my ears. My magic is lit up inside me, pure warmth buzzing and coiling until I sense it all over. If it is a sentient thing, it definitely likes Flynn as much as I do. Gods, I feel absolutely insane right now. Needing the fresh air, I head out onto the balcony, closing my eyes as I lean against the railing. I breathe in deeply, letting the earthy scents clear out my murky thoughts. Dangerous. This is so dangerous. For a multitude of reasons. Even with my eyes closed, I feel him come out and stand next to me quietly, his presence wholly consuming me.
“I should probably get going,” he says almost regretfully. I plaster a smile on my face and nod, but I can’t help how disappointed I am at the too-short-lived moment.
I follow him to the door, waiting for him to say something— anything . Instead, he faces me on the other side of the threshold and extends his hand out. Without hesitation, I place mine in his, holding my breath. He brings the back of my hand to his lips, planting a sweet kiss there before giving it a squeeze and letting go.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunshine.” He moves to step away, and I remember that I have a letter for him to give to Tienne and Erica.
“Wait!” I yelp, running over to the table and grabbing up the folded letter. “Can you give this to Tienne and Erica?” He takes the letter from my outstretched hand and holds it up to look at it. “You can’t read it though. It has… womanly stuff in it. It’s only for ladies to read.”
Flynn laughs—a hearty, true sound of amusement—before tucking the letter into his pocket. “I swear that my extremely handsome—but decidedly not female—eyes will not read your letter.” He winks at me before taking a step back again. “Goodnight, Rhea.”
“Goodnight, Flynn,” I say back.
His face lights up, brighter somehow even with only the light of the torch in the stairwell. Then he turns on his heel and leaves, his steps echoing down the stairs. The only thought I can muster as I stand there, staring at the stone walls, is that I am so completely in over my head.