30. So, Like, What Are We?
30
So, Like, What Are We?
Aliza
D arkness pressed against my eyes when I opened them again. I might have panicked at the unfamiliar shadows of my surroundings if not for the absolute safety of the limp, heavy arm draped around my waist, and the soft flutter of warm breath at the nape of my neck.
Idris curled around my body, his chest against my back, his legs tangled with mine. We hadn’t bothered to move beneath the blankets, but cocooned by him, I wasn’t cold. I wriggled, and at once, his arm tightened and he pulled me closer with a sleepy sigh.
My lips curved into a smile as the earlier glow blossomed once more in my chest, heating me from within. I’d never had such a reaction to anyone, and it wasn’t only the phenomenal sex. It was him , just him. Having him near. Knowing that he wanted me, that I mattered to him. That he existed and I’d been lucky enough to stumble into his world. In all the millions of years since the earth had formed, of all the billions of people to walk its surface in that time, I had the good fortune to be here, now, with Idris.
My stomach roared, spoiling the moment somewhat. I had no idea what time it was, but I did know I’d missed dinner, and though Idris had done most of the work in our earlier endeavours, I’d probably burnt through a million calories after so many orgasms.
Three. Three . My smile widened. Who’d have ever thought it possible? Not me, that was for sure. I’d always considered myself lucky if I finished at all, never mind three times. The men I’d welcomed into my body suddenly seemed deeply inadequate in comparison to my beautiful, talented prince. Though he slept soundly now, who knew what he’d have an appetite for come morning? I would need sustenance.
Carefully, I eased out from under his arm. Idris grumbled, and I held my breath, half hoping he’d wake, but he quietened quickly, falling still once more. I perched on the edge of the mattress, watching his shadowy form. It was darker here in the woods than it had ever been at Nairsgarth, but some moonlight managed to filter through the branches to paint the edges of the sleeping prince in faint smudges of silver, a beautiful contrast to the depth of the darkness clinging to him. I admired his silver-tipped ear and the glowing strands nestled amongst the void of his hair.
Something tightened in my chest, springing tears to my eyes. I blinked rapidly, frowning as I laid a hand to my collarbones. What was wrong with me? Was this normal? Was it love or just the bond, and which should I hope for?
In light of all that happened, having an unbreakable bond tethering us didn’t seem such a bad thing. Rhodd Anfarwol, the gift of immortality, had always been intended to preserve a lover who would otherwise wither and die, leaving a broken-hearted fae to pine for all eternity. My guilt at such a gift being wasted on me was soothed by the knowledge that Idris did, in fact, care for me. That I was on my way to becoming the very thing which such impossible magic had been intended for.
A lover.
I am besotted with you.
My nose wrinkled with my smile, and I hopped down from the bed. By some miracle, one stocking was still in place, but the other slid down my leg and gathered around my ankle. I peeled them off, abandoning them at the bedside before tiptoeing out of the room.
I didn’t know the dictionary definition of besotted, but I got the gist of it. If only I hadn’t left my phone in the palace, and if only there was service in this backward world, I could have looked up the definition and put the whirring cogs of my mind to rest.
The wooden floor was cold beneath my feet as I trailed, naked and covered in goosebumps, into the kitchen, pulling cupboards open in my search for food. A little floating ball of light flickered to life in each cupboard, illuminating the contents with a soft, white glow. Such was the dreamy haze I floated in that I barely even marvelled at that little bit of magic, neither did I taste the cookies I devoured.
God, but they were dry. The hot chocolate Idris had made was now swampy and cold, unfit for consumption. I rooted around the kitchen until I found a glass, pouring myself a drink at the sink. The water went down like nectar, soothing my kiss-bruised lips.
“You found the cookies, I see.”
The glass slipped through my fingers, but I fumbled a catch, spinning to find a dark, hulking figure behind me, a tell-tale smudge of shadow falling into his eyes.
“Idris! You shouldn’t sneak up on a lady like that. ”
His teeth flashed silver as he moved closer, feet silent, and snaked his arms around me. He nuzzled the spot below my ear, and I sighed as warmth rushed through me.
“Forgive me, my queen, I forgot my manners. The view is quite distracting.”
I might have paid more attention to the hum of satisfaction at his reference to my naked body, but my thoughts snagged on ‘my queen’. My belly churned, making me regret the cookie.
As blissful as this little interlude had been, Idris had only promised me one night. When the sun rose, we would return to Tir o Gaeaf. Return to pretending and lying and scheming. I would trade such peace and joy to don the mask of Aliza the Human Queen, come to save the world. When the world was saved, I was determined to return to this, but until then…
“At the risk of sounding stupid,” I said, leaning back to look into Idris’ shadowy face, “what exactly does besotted mean?”
Tension flickered in the muscles beneath my hands, hardening them. Not what I had intended at all. “I only ask because it’s not really a word we use. I think I know, but just in case…”
“Mr Darcy has failed to prepare you for such eloquence?” There was a playful note in his quiet voice.
I smirked. “Who? I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” His grin faded, and his eyes, gleaming faintly, widened. “Besotted means… It means I think of you night and day, waking and sleeping. It means I am intoxicated by you, blind to all others. Driven mad by…”
Though he tailed off, I knew what he’d thought to say by the pained furrow of his brow, and it filled me with the same warmth that had washed through me in waves all evening. I didn’t need to hear it yet, just as I didn’t know if I was ready to say it myself, especially with all that lay ahead. Hearing his unspoken words would only make it harder to turn away from him and don my crown.
A spike of injustice lanced through me. Idris was the true heir. Not me. Not Anwir. Him. It should have been him fighting for his people. It should have been him I stood beside. Being a queen would have been easier with his hand to hold. There should have been no need for lies. Did he ever regret his choice to give up his birthright now that he was besotted with me, and had to stand by while his younger brother paraded me before the world?
“I don’t want to go back to Tir o Gaeaf,” I whispered.
“Now you understand why I gave it all up.”
Yes and no. I was an ordinary, boring, everyday woman. He was a prince. He’d been born to rule, raised for it, prepared. Where I floundered, surely he flew?
“Tell me about your life before you became a dusty old antique.”
“Dusty?” Playful menace laced the word, and his hands skimmed down to my bare backside, squeezing. “You didn’t think I was dusty when you were begging me for more.”
“With great age comes great experience, I suppose.” I fought to keep my airy tone, determined not to be distracted by the heat pooling between my legs, no doubt his intention. In truth, I was a little tender. Not in a bad way, but my body had never endured such a magnificent and thorough ravaging before, and I already knew I’d be reminded of it with every movement the following day. While I trailed around after Anwir, when I sat beside him at dinner, it would be memories of Idris buried inside me that consumed me .
“And yet all that experience, as you put it, paled to you.”
I smirked, remembering his demands. “I hope I’ve driven every other female from your mind?”
“My mind is but a puddle, melted by my awe of you.” He took my hand. “Come on. If I have to dredge up memories from so long ago, I’m not doing it shivering in the kitchen.”
Stepping over my carelessly discarded dress, he led me toward the cluster of chairs before the empty fire. He sank onto the sofa, pulling me down beside him and dragged a knitted blanket over us both. I huddled close, not only for warmth, but because there was nowhere in the world I would rather be.
“Should we light the fire?” By we, I did, of course, mean him. I had no idea how to do such things, and I doubted it was as simple as flicking on the central heating back at my parents’ house. If I was going to live in Neath, I would have to learn its ways, but not tonight.
Idris stiffened. Under the blanket, his fingers wove through mine, squeezing. “Are you not afraid?”
Oh, bless his little heart. Of course he’d think I was scared. He was doing a thorough job of turning me to mush. “No. It’s different. As long as it stays in the hearth, it’s fine.”
“Well… if you want stories, I’ll start by telling you that I am afraid.”
My stomach plunged like I’d missed my footing on the stairs. I knew he’d reacted badly when I’d suggested a fire the first night we arrived back in Neath, but I hadn’t pushed him for details of his reaction. “Of fire?”
He nodded, wayward hair flopping. “Well, no, not exactly. I just… It brings back memories I’d rather forget. ”
“Idris,” I breathed, not knowing what to say next, but he didn’t seem to hear me. He’d been burnt too, and his injuries had lingered while mine had been wiped away when he made me immortal. He had as much right to trauma as I did.
He stared into the cold, dark hearth. “The flames were high by the time I arrived. I couldn’t see you at all, but I heard you screaming.” He gulped, tightening his grip on my hand. “When I got to you, when I pulled you free…”
He pressed his lips together, and his hand trembled in mine. I clasped it, shuffling closer to lay my head on his shoulder. “Is this because you burnt yourself? Getting me out?”
He blinked, turning away from the hearth at last. “No. Well, yes , but that’s not it at all. That’s not… it is you , Aliza. I can’t stand the flames because of what they did to you . I can still see…”
He could still see my injuries. He’d witnessed one of the most gruesome things anyone could ever see. The type of thing that haunted firefighters and doctors and nurses, who were trained and counselled through such things. Idris had no such help to navigate the trauma, and yet, he’d comforted me. He’d held me through every nightmare. He’d stroked my hair and murmured in my ears. He’d let me sob and quake in his arms. All the while, he’d been remembering too, and I hadn’t given it a thought.
I couldn’t take those memories away from him, but maybe I could distract him.
“Okay, no fire. Tell me something happy.”
His jaw worked, as though biting back his emotions. Maybe words were beyond him just now. Luckily, I had enough for both of us .
“When I was a kid,” I began, trailing one fingertip up and down his forearm, “my grandparents had a tiny cottage by the sea. Mum and Dad never had much money, so we would sometimes holiday there, all piled into the spare bedroom. There was an old man who lived further down the lane, and he had a granddaughter about my age. She’d sometimes stay at the same time as I did, and we’d be best friends for the week. One day, we were all down at the beach. Me and my friend were paddling when a wave hit us, knocking us both over and dragging us under.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Idris growled, and I smiled, flicking him.
“My grandad filmed the whole thing, but the video cuts out there. Nobody ever got to see him wading into the sea and carrying me out like a lifeguard, but I remember. I lost my shoe that day. The sea took it.”
“And your friend?”
“She lived to tell the tale.” I shifted, looking up at him. “I wonder where she is now, and if she’s ever told anyone that story.”
I’d never see Verena again. Maybe, if she did remember me, she’d have come across my name by now, learnt of my supposed fate. Maybe it was better that she forgot.
“Hopefully she has better tales to tell when trying to cheer up her friends.”
I snorted. “Friends? Is that what we are?”
But he was right, we were friends. I’d known it for a while, but it hit me then. I’d left so much behind in the human world, but in him I’d found the very best of friends. Whatever else we were, whatever we might become, I was glad of that much. Glad that I’d come here. Glad that I’d risked so much to find and wake a stranger.
He kissed my forehead, letting his lips graze my skin as he spoke. “Friends don’t moan each other’s names the way we do.”
My lips twisted into a smirk, my ears heating. What did it matter what label we gave ourselves? It meant nothing compared to the warmth of his skin against mine. Besides, boyfriend didn’t seem quite the right title for a centuries-old fae prince.
“How old are you, Idris?”
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “If I tell you, are you going to use it as ammunition against me?”
“You know it.” I grinned.
“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”
Even though I’d expected a high number, my stomach bottomed out. “I’m twenty-four.”
His eyes turned wary but he said nothing, waiting for me to fill the silence. It was only fair, I supposed, as I was the one who’d asked the question and made things awkward. “So, does this mean your prefrontal cortex is almost fully developed, or…”
He frowned. “My what?”
Oh, yeah, science wasn’t a thing here. I grinned. “Nothing. You’re too old to understand.”
He rolled his eyes. “So it begins.”
Idris laid his cheek on top of my head. When he spoke again his voice was clear, with no lingering hint of our moment of mischievous teasing. “When I was young—”
“Billions of years ago. ”
He squeezed me. “When I was even younger than I am now, I lived in a beautiful palace with a mother and father who loved me, and a brother, younger by minutes, who set out to become my greatest annoyance from the moment he drew his first breath. We had servants to cater to our every whim, all of them fond of us, treating us as their own family, and courtiers and visitors, all eager to make us smile and win our favour. There were gifts, and parties, and fine food, but the thing I loved most of all was the air cavalry. They would put on displays at every event, soaring overhead in these daring and breathtaking formations. As a boy, I looked at those riders and saw brave heroes. More than anything, I wanted to be one of them. But a firstborn prince has a schedule packed with duties. I was shut away in classrooms, forced to study everything I would need to know to become a king one day. Anwir had to suffer lessons too, but not as many. He always had more freedom than I, and he used it to charm the entire court. He was beloved, but also spoiled and free, and I envied him.
“It was only as I grew older, still dreaming of joining the cavalry, that I discovered it was forbidden. As the eldest, I was too precious, and the flight too dangerous. Anwir would have been free to gain his wings if he wanted, and I’m sure he would have done it just to spite me, but I had a better idea.”
“You swapped places,” I said, my heart flat and heavy at the thought of a young boy with a head bursting with impossible dreams.
He nodded against my hair. “We did, and we were both happier for it. For the first time in my life, I was free to decipher animal tracks and follow them deep into the woods with just a handful of guards. I was free to roam the city, blending in with ordinary people, joining other children in rough games without a suit of padding. Best of all, I was free to fly.”
“They let a child sit on one of those horses?”
He smiled against my brow. “Not at first. I was a little older before I graduated from an ordinary horse, but I was allowed to hang around the barracks, listening and learning. They grew fond of me, I think, and sometimes took me along to the plains to meet the horses. They were never stabled unless they were sick or injured—they loved their freedom as much as I did—but they formed bonds with their riders, and always came when they were called. I’d sit on the ground and watch as they took to the skies to train. By the time I was old enough, I felt as though I’d been born in the saddle.”
“Saddle?” I twisted away from him to give him an accusing glare. “How come I didn’t get a saddle when you dragged me into the sky?”
He shrugged, smirking. “I didn’t have it with me. Besides, I always preferred bareback.”
Of course he did. He had no regard for safety. I rolled my eyes. “I still can’t believe you gave up your kingdoms just so you could fly pretty ponies over the rainbow. You do realise that when your father handed over his throne, you would have been in charge? You could have changed the rules.”
He hummed. “Perhaps, but I couldn’t have prevented my avid fans from erecting statues of me, so I have no regrets.”
I scowled at the reminder of the monstrosity looking over Tir o Gaeaf. “None?”
“No.”
My pulse thudded in my ears as I asked, “What about when we go back tomorrow, and you have to hand me over to Anwir? ”
The shadows clinging to his eyes deepened, but he said nothing.
I sighed, flopping my head against the back of the sofa. “Everything just gets more complicated by the day. I want to help people, I want to put a stop to Maelgwyn, but I also want my own life. What happens when all this is over?”
Could it really be as simple as abandoning the role I’d taken on? Could I lead the fight against Maelgwyn, rally the people to victory, and then admit it had only ever been a lie?
Idris disentangled his arm from the blanket, trailing his hand through my nest of hair, twining a lock gently around his finger. “You still have the patience of a mortal. Not everything needs to be solved in a day. One problem at a time, one day at a time. Tomorrow may be fraught with difficulty, but right now, tonight, I have you, and you have me. Let it be as simple as it is.”
Easy for him to say. He’d left his responsibilities by the wayside, but someone, millennia ago, had made a prophecy, and I was burdened. But Idris laid down, propping his head against a cushion, and lifted his arm. I couldn’t help but smile as I crawled into the space he offered, laying my head against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and sure and steady, filled my ear as I trailed invisible patterns over his skin. For his part, he toyed with my hair where it spilt over us both, the gentle tugs on my scalp soothing.
“I loved your old hair,” he murmured, and my heart stumbled at his choice of words. “I like the blonde, but the other colours suited you. You are a brave little rainbow, trying to chase away every cloud.”
“Except this one.” I prodded his impressive chest. “This particular thundercloud can stay. You can’t have a rainbow without rain. ”
His answering hum was a purr, deep in his chest. “Tell me another story. A happy one this time.”
I smiled, casting my mind back over a short, mortal life that had been stuffed full of joy. There was so much to tell, and not nearly enough hours left of the night, but Idris was right. There was no rush. With time, I could tell it all. One story at a time.
And we had all the time in the world.