3. Rosalina
Rosalina
“Do you miss the sun?”
The sun? What use do I have for the sun when the mere sound of his voice fills my entire body with heat?
It’s the first thing he’s said to me in…
Well now. I don’t know.
It’s hard to tell time in the dark. I don’t sleep much. How can I sleep when I know he is so close yet out of my reach? My thoughts are utterly consumed with him. My hero. My god.
Hmm. There’s a word for this.
Ah yes, that’s it. It slipped my mind.
Love.
I love the Prince of Thorns. This is the single, most irrevocable truth of my spirit.
I love the Prince of Thorns.
My fork clatters to the plate, still reeling at his words.
We sit at a dining table in the halls of his palace, known as the Gem.
Perhaps the food is good—it’s a thick stew of mushrooms and roots, topped in a bloodred sauce—but I don’t taste food.
It is unimportant when all my senses must be focused on him.
He smells of lavender and rich earth and appears as if carved from the moon, pale skin draped in a cloak of the darkness between the stars.
He sounds like joy feels.
As for how he tastes…
I shift my body forward, eyes fluttering shut—
The Prince of Thorns snatches my chin. My heart near tears from my chest. How he feels! How he feels is like fireworks exploding in my chest and a choir singing and—
“The sun,” he says sternly. “Do you miss it?”
“No. I miss you,” I breathe.
His gaze softens. “I miss you too.”
I can barely contain myself. I am a panting, scrambling, tearful mess as I fall to his feet, tearing at his cloak. “Have me. I belong to you—”
He sends me back to my room.