Chapter 27 #2
“Furthermore,” Queen Elindra continued, though her voice had gone tight, each word seeming to cost her, “you will be granted access to the Hall of Memories, as is your right as a daughter of the Silver Bough.” The Queen’s fingers had gone white where they gripped the arms of her chair.
“You may access any memories within the collection that pertain to your bloodline.”
Access to the Hall of Memories. The thing they’d come for, the reason she’d endured her aunt’s contempt and the Council’s deliberations. Serathen’s truth, waiting somewhere in those preserved fragments of the past.
Her throat had dried, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed once, twice, trying to form words that wouldn’t come. Beside her, Khaeric’s presence remained steady, his hand still pressed against the small of her back.
“Thank ye, Yer Majesty.” Khaeric’s voice rumbled through the chamber, deep and formal. He inclined his head toward the Queen, then toward each of the councilors. “And thank ye to the Council for yer careful consideration of our petition.”
Queen Elindra’s expression flickered, something passing across her face too quickly for Aeryn to identify. “The Council,” she said after a moment’s pause, “serves the law. Nothing more.”
They’d won. The Council had acknowledged their marriage, their child, the truth of what they were to each other. And they would have access to the Hall of Memories.
Everything she’d fought for. Everything she’d risked.
Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her forward as she turned toward Khaeric. Her arms went around him—or as far around as they could reach, given the breadth of his chest. She pressed her face against the formal tunic, breathing in the scent of him beneath the unfamiliar fabric.
His arms came up to encircle her, careful despite their strength, mindful of the child growing between them. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounded beneath her ear, anchoring her as the enormity of what had just happened crashed over her in waves.
They’d done it. Against every expectation, every carefully maintained tradition, every whispered insult and barely veiled contempt—they’d won.
A throat cleared somewhere above them—sharp, deliberate, cutting through the moment.
Aeryn pulled back slightly, still pressed against Khaeric’s chest. Heat flooded her cheeks as the reality of where they were crashed back over her. The Council chamber. Seven pairs of eyes watched them. Her aunt’s carefully maintained composure fracturing at the edges.
“Niece.” Queen Elindra’s voice carried across the chamber, melodious and sharp-edged in equal measure. “Perhaps you might contain your... enthusiasm until you have departed the Council chamber.”
Aeryn straightened, her hands slipping from Khaeric’s tunic as she turned back toward the dais.
The flush in her cheeks burned hotter, spreading down her neck.
She’d forgotten herself entirely—thrown her arms around her husband in the middle of the Council chamber like some lovesick girl rather than a princess of the Silver Bough.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Aeryn bowed. “I was... overcome.”
“Clearly.” The High Queen’s fingers drummed once against the arm of her chair before stilling. “The Council has made its decision. The documents will be prepared for your signatures within the day.” Her hand lifted in a gesture of dismissal. “You may go.”
Aeryn dipped into a curtsey, the motion automatic despite the trembling in her legs. Beside her, Khaeric bowed—the precise angle they’d practiced, deep enough for respect but measured enough to maintain dignity.
The heavy doors closed behind them with a resonant thud that echoed through the corridor.
The sound had barely faded when Khaeric’s arms swept around her, lifting her clean off her feet.
Her slippers dangled uselessly as he pulled her tight against his chest, one arm banded around her waist while the other cradled her shoulders.
Aeryn’s breath left her in a startled laugh, her hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. The world tilted as he held her aloft, his face pressed into her hair. She felt the rumble of his voice against her temple before she heard the words.
“We did it,” he murmured. “Ye did it, lass.”
Tears blurred her vision, hot and sudden, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. Her throat closed around a sob that came out half-laugh, half-gasp. The relief crashed through her chest, washing away weeks of tension.
Khaeric’s arms tightened around her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. His thumb stroked through her hair in slow, steady movements that only made the tears fall faster.
“Easy, lass. Easy.”
But she couldn’t stop. The sobs kept coming in great, heaving gasps that left her shaking. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his tunic, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had just shifted beneath her feet.
“Come on,” Khaeric murmured, lowering her back to the ground, though his arms remained around her. “Let’s get ye home.”
The corridor back to the entrance hall seemed shorter somehow, though her legs still trembled with each step. Khaeric kept one arm around her waist, steadying her as they walked.
The great doors opened before them, revealing the rain-soaked courtyard beyond. The downpour had lessened to a steady drizzle that misted the air, turning the white stone dark with moisture. The carriage waited where they’d left it, water streaming from its curved roof in thin rivulets.
A servant appeared with the oiled cloth umbrella, holding it over Aeryn’s head as they descended the stairs. The cobblestones were slick beneath her feet, and she gripped Khaeric’s arm tighter as they navigated the steps.
The carriage door opened, and Khaeric handed her up into the cushioned interior before climbing in after her. The door clicked shut. The driver’s voice called out something muffled, and the wheels lurched into motion.
Aeryn reached forward and yanked the curtains closed, plunging the carriage interior into dim shadows broken only by thin slivers of a grey light at the edges. Her hands moved to gather her skirts, pulling the heavy silk up past her knees as she shifted across the narrow space between them.
Khaeric’s eyes widened, his hands coming up automatically to steady her as she climbed into his lap. “Aeryn—”
She kissed him before he could finish, her mouth finding his with a desperation that bordered on violence. Her fingers threaded through his hair, dislodging the careful braids as she pressed closer. The gemstones caught against her palms, smooth and warm from his skin.
Her mouth moved against his, demanding, claiming. Her teeth caught his lower lip, and he made a sound low in his throat that sent heat pooling in her belly. His hands gripped her waist through the silk, fingers digging in hard enough that she felt them through the layers of fabric.
She shifted in his lap, her hips rolling forward in a motion that made them both gasp. The hard length of him pressed against her through his trousers, and she ground down deliberately, seeking friction. The heavy silk of her gown bunched between them, too much fabric, too many layers.
His hands tightened on her waist, then his grip shifted—pulling her closer, guiding her movements as she rocked against him. The carriage swayed with each turn of the wheels, adding to the rhythm building between them.
She rolled her hips harder, grinding against him through the layers of fabric. The friction sent sparks radiating through her core, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Her hands fumbled between them, finding the fastenings of his trousers. The buttons slipped against her trembling fingers, but she worked them free one by one. Khaeric’s breath came harsh against her throat.
“Aeryn, we’re in a carriage—”
“I don’t care.” She got the last button free and reached inside, fingers closing around the hot, rigid length of him. He groaned as she stroked him once, twice, feeling him pulse in her grip.
Her other hand gathered the silk of her gown, pulling it higher until the cool air against her bare thighs. She tugged her already damp smallclothes aside.
The head of him pressed against her entrance, hot and blunt. She lowered herself slowly, breathing through the initial resistance, feeling the stretch as he entered her.
“Easy,” Khaeric breathed against her throat. “Take it slow, lass.”
She sank down another inch, then paused. The fullness bordered on overwhelming; her body clenching around him even as heat coiled tighter.
“That’s it,” Khaeric groaned. “Slow, lass. We’ve got time.”
But they didn’t have time. The carriage already moved through Béalimhe’s streets, carrying them back toward the estate. Someone could stop them at any moment.
She sank down until he was fully seated inside her. The fullness stole her breath. She sat trembling, her body adjusting to the deep pressure. “Gods,” she breathed.
Her hips lifted, feeling the drag of him as she rose, then sank back down. Khaeric’s breath came ragged as she found her rhythm—rising and dropping, the carriage swaying beneath them, adding an unpredictable element to each movement.
The pressure built low in her belly with each roll of her hips. Khaeric’s mouth found her throat, his tusks grazing her skin as he kissed the sensitive flesh. His hand slid up her body to cup her breast through the silk, thumb circling until she whimpered.
She rode him harder, chasing it. The carriage lurched over an uneven patch of road, and the jolt drove him deeper—she gasped, her back arching as the angle changed.
“Aeryn—” His voice broke on her name.
She moved faster, hips rolling in tight circles. The pressure built to an almost unbearable intensity, tightening until she shattered.
The first wave hit without warning, pleasure crashing through her body until her vision whited out at the edges. A cry tore from her throat, raw and desperate in the enclosed space.
Khaeric thrust up into her once, twice more before going rigid beneath her, his whole body tensing as he found his release.
For a long moment they stayed frozen, both trembling with aftershocks. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder, breath coming in ragged gasps that gradually slowed. The silk of her gown clung to her sweat-dampened skin.
Khaeric’s hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her disheveled hair. His chest rose and fell beneath her in deep, measured breaths that gradually steadied.
The carriage wheels rattled over the cobblestones. How much time had passed? Five minutes? Ten?
“Here.” Khaeric shifted beneath her, a handkerchief appearing from somewhere in his formal attire.
Aeryn reached for it, cleaning herself before settling back onto the opposite bench, legs still trembling. Across from her, Khaeric refastened his trousers. His hair had come loose from its careful braids, dark strands hanging around his face.
“Well,” Khaeric said, his voice still rough around the edges. “That’s one way to celebrate.”
“I couldn’t help myself,” she admitted.
Khaeric smiled. “I’m no’ complainin’.”