23. 21
21
Draven
T he last glittering embers of the fireworks display fade into wisps of smoke overhead. All around us, enchanted faces turn earthward once more as the spell breaks. Sounds of laughter and lively chatter fill the chilled night air as crowds begin drifting toward the castle gates.
Anthony catches Audrey’s eye with a subtle smile. “Perhaps you might allow me the honor of escorting you back to the castle, my lady?”
Audrey flushes prettily and takes his proffered arm. “I would be delighted, Lord Anthony. After a few drinks perhaps?”
They make their farewells and head off into the dispersing crowd .
Now alone, I rise and offer Thorn my arm. “May I escort you back?”
She hesitates, eyes guarded, but finally, her delicate fingers alight on my sleeve. Even through the layers of my tunic, her touch sends sparks skittering across my skin. I have to restrain the urge to pull her close and breathe in her honeyed scent.
We join the surge of revelers heading back along the winding lane of stalls, now shuttered for the night. Snatches of music and laughter echo around us as families and lovers wander together in the silvery glow of lanterns. The nip in the air reddens Thorn’s cheeks.
As we walk, memories surface unbidden of our quiet days together in her cottage, when I was certain I would leave and then never see her again. Against all odds, here she is by my side once more.
“You know, I never did get the secret behind that brick you called bread,” I tease lightly as we walk, wanting to keep things light. “Surely even your infamous cooking skills could do better?”
Thorn gasps in mock affront and swats my shoulder, but I catch the reluctant quirk of her lips. “If you must know, that loaf was baked before your untimely arrival interrupted my errands. ”
“Mmm hmm, likely excuse. I seem to recall you baking a fresh loaf while I was there recuperating. Had the pleasure of watching you punch and knead it within an inch of its life.” I mime aggressively punching dough, eliciting a surprised chuckle from her.
“Well, someone had to take out their frustrations when saddled with an unwanted houseguest,” Thorn retorts with a pointed look.
“Come now. I was the perfect gentleman. Even offered my expertise on achieving the perfect airy crumb.”
Thorn snorts. “Oh, yes, I remember your constant hovering and critiques while I baked. Tell me, do they teach bread chemistry as part of prince schooling?”
“I’ll have you know the crown prince receives the most well-rounded education,” I reply in mock superiority. “How to manage the cooks is near the top of that list. At least until we have a bride.”
Thorn shakes her head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Truly invaluable skills that prepared you so well for being stranded in a blizzard.”
“I survived, didn’t I? Thanks to a certain witch’s anchored bread keeping me nourished.” I pat my stomach for emphasis.
Thorn’s lips quirk. “Happy to be of baked goods service.”
Up ahead, the iron gates of the castle loom.
I slow our steps, wanting to prolong this stolen time together. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight at least?”
Thorn’s expression turns thoughtful. “More than I expected to, truthfully. Being here again after so long… it stirred some surprisingly pleasant memories.”
Her voice holds a reflective note that piques my curiosity. I didn’t realize she had been here before, but I don’t press.
I cover her hand resting on my arm with my own. “I’m glad. You deserve a little magic.”
Thorn’s steps falter briefly before regaining their rhythm. Our bond thrums just beneath the surface, straining to fully reconnect. It’s all I can do not to give in to desire and pull her into my arms right there in the middle of the crowd, but I restrain myself, respecting her boundaries. She needs time, and I can be patient. Or at least try to be.
The thought of bidding Thorn goodnight and watching her disappear behind those imposing wooden doors fills me with quiet dread. This magical evening together feels too precious to let end just yet.
I glance down at her hand resting delicately on my arm, wisps of her dark hair trailing over the rich velvet of her cloak. “Tell me, where did you grow up?”
Thorn keeps her gaze fixed ahead, expression unreadable. “Oh, we moved frequently when I was young. My mother sought out remote villages in need of her skills.”
She doesn’t elaborate further, clearly avoiding specifics.
I try a different tack. “And your interests? Besides medicine and magic, how else do you pass the time?”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Reading when I can get new material. Used to spend hours as a child hiding away with my nose in a book. And music… I find playing the flute can ease all manner of burdens.”
I perk up at this new personal detail. “I would dearly love to hear you play sometime.”
“Perhaps…” She toys idly with the sash of her cloak. “If the mood strikes. Now, I believe I’m due a question in return?”
I incline my head graciously. “Ask away, my lady. ”
Thorn’s eyes take on a teasing glint. “Well then… how many hearts have you broken with that roguish charm of yours?”
I press a hand to my chest in mock affront. “You wound me! Here I thought your impression was solely favorable.”
Her answering laugh sends warmth cascading through my veins. “Come now. I find it hard to believe you haven’t left a trail of lovelorn ladies in your wake over the centuries. You’re a prince, and let’s be serious. Vampires are known for their more carnal desires.”
I hold her gaze meaningfully. “Not as many hearts as you might think. The demands of my station make true romance… challenging.”
Lonely, too, though I refrain from saying so aloud.
Something that looks like empathy flickers in Thorn’s eyes, but the shutters lower again before I can be certain. I wonder if she, too, knows what it means to feel isolated even amidst a crowd.
We pass beneath the spiked iron portcullis into the castle’s outer courtyard, our playful banter continuing as I soak up these glimpses past her prickly exterior. It’s like basking in the warmth of spring’s first rays after an age of winter’s chill .
Too quickly, we traverse the open-air corridors to my wing. Tension coils through me with each step drawing inexorably toward parting.
Thorn pauses outside the heavy oaken door, our joined hands falling back to our sides.
“Thank you for indulging my sister’s whims and allowing me to escort you tonight.” I infuse the formal words with sincerity, hoping she understands this was no mere obligation to me.
Thorn inclines her head politely, though her eyes shutter again. “I appreciate you both going to such efforts on my behalf.”
We hover a moment, the silence heavy between us. I’m struck by the urge to gently tuck back the locks of hair that have escaped her braid, so at odds with her usual severe style. She looks up at me, lips parted as if to speak.
Some magnetic force draws me nearer until I find myself leaning down to press my mouth to hers. For an electric instant, Thorn softens into the kiss, her hands lifting as if to draw me closer…
But then she turns her face away abruptly, eyes lowered. “Forgive me, I cannot… This is unwise.” Her words come out barely a whisper .
Regret floods me. Of course she is not ready for such intimacy with our connection still so tenuous. I retreat a step, cursing myself for presuming too much.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” I keep my tone gentle. “The fault is mine. Goodnight, Thorn. Sleep well.”
I wait until the door closes softly behind her before making my way to my own chambers. The kiss lingers on my lips, sweeter than fae honey-wine and twice as intoxicating. Getting past her thorny exterior will require time and patience, but I find myself more determined than ever to discover the tender heart I know beats beneath the witch’s prickly armor.
Half in a daze, I ready myself for bed, my thoughts consumed by Thorn. The mysteries of her past, the secrets flickering in those fathomless dark eyes… they draw me in even as they signal caution. Something wounded her deeply once. I only hope in time she will trust me enough to share those hidden parts of herself and perhaps allow me to help mend them.
Slipping between the cool silken sheets, I close my eyes. Does she lay awake as well reliving those blissful moments in the starlight before fear drove her back behind her walls? I will be patient, I remind myself again, but patience has never been my strong suit.
I fall into a fitful sleep full of tangled dreams where Thorn and I dance together at the Yule Ball, gaze locked as if we are the only two souls in existence. Her lips meet mine again and again beneath the wavering candle flames, but each time I reach for her, she dissolves into mist through my fingers.
I wake well before dawn restless and on edge, but as I rise to greet the new day, determination braces my steps. Last night’s thawing, however brief, gives me hope. I need only keep chipping away to uncover the light that draws me like a beacon within Thorn’s shadows.
And when at last her armor comes down for good, I will be there waiting.