62. Please. Stay.
Chapter sixty-two
Please. Stay.
L ong after the sun had set, Solveig sat alone on the moss cushioned steps at the edge of Trivellian Bay. Icy water roiled and splashed to meet her as though it recognised the power that lay within her, however little it may be. The briny air was a calming force as it twined through her loose hair, braiding the ends together.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Only that the moon had tracked far across the sky, when the ocean’s rhythmic waves met the soft melancholy strains of a piano melody drifting down from the palace. The sadness of the piece enraptured her. Without thinking, she rose to her feet. Silently padding her way up the slippery steps; along the cool stone of the patio in search of the soul responsible for creating such a heart wrenching melody.
She could see open balcony doors off to the right, where gauzy curtains danced as though the lyrical refrains blew them outward to tangle through the night. Hesitantly, she approached the entrance. When she saw who sat before the grand piano, her heart lurched to a sudden halt, before shocking to life again, beating double time.
She watched as the Prince of Elithiend poured his soul into the song. His eyes were closed, fingers deft as they flew across the keys. He’d dressed casually, in a loose cream night shirt, and dark trousers. The curled locks of his hair were in complete disarray, as though he had spent the entire evening running his hands through it. Cooped up in that room until he could stand it no longer, so he’d snuck down to the ballroom to unleash his anger in the most achingly beautiful way.
Solveig was used to harsh words on sharp tongues and raised fists to relieve anger. Not swaying hips and rolling shoulders as he pounded the keys.
She stood, mesmerised by the sight of him unguarded. Wondering if he’d wanted someone to find him. He hadn’t chosen a private location or quiet outlet to vent his frustrations. Still, she worried she was intruding on something innately private. Had barged her way through a locked door to his mind and took up residence in the centre.
Yet she couldn’t walk away, couldn’t leave the prince to his thoughts. There was nowhere else she wanted to be than sitting beside him on that bench. With the warmth of his powerful body against hers, as his hips rocked and swayed to the beat of his own making. As he lost himself to the music, she’d sit silently, watching, because he would want her there as much as she longed to be there. For once, the wraith wanted nothing more than to step out from the shadows and bask in his light.
Reluctantly, she moved away, releasing the curtains, and stepping one bare foot back out on the patio when he spoke.
“Did you honestly believe that I couldn’t feel your eyes on me?” His voice cracking as he continued to play, not missing a single note. Solveig spun to find his eyes on her.
“I’m sorry for intruding,” she whispered as his gaze set her aflame from across the room.
“You weren’t. I could’ve closed the door if I didn’t want anyone to see me.”
“Did you wish for me to find you?”
“You said that, Princess, not me.”
“Then I shall leave you to your melancholy.”
The music stopped abruptly at her words.
“Please.” he breathed. “Stay.”
Solveig stilled for a moment, swallowing softly before she whispered, “Okay.” She turned on the spot, walking directly to him. His eyes glittered with humour as he studied her, a single brow raised. She could feel the flush creeping up her skin from his perusal.
“You can come closer, Princess. I don’t bite.”
“I don’t want to be in the way,” she reasoned, as she leaned against the piano, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You could never.”
She had no answer for the raw honesty in his gaze. Nor the openness that frightened and electrified her all at once. She walked stiffly to sit beside him, as she had imagined moments earlier. In every place they connected, warmth radiated. The air crackled with sparks of tension as they sat in silence, staring at one another, their breaths the only sound.
“Any requests,” he said after a minute, breaking the tension.
Solveig shook her head. “I used to play, too,” she whispered, “before.”
Emmerich didn’t push, instead bringing his long fingers back atop the keys, resuming the melody. She watched in awe at the speed at which his fingers danced, feeling the vibrations of the piano in her bones. Matched with the fire that raged where they made contact, it had Solveig on the verge of forgetting her own name, as her blush deepened.
“How did you learn to play so fast?”
“My mother taught me as a boy, and I kept up the practice through school and into adulthood.” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before drawing his gaze to her. “I could show you?”
Solveig sensed his eyes on her, burning her in the most delicious way as she nodded, too caught up in the moment to vocalise her assertion.
Swiftly, Emmerich rose to his feet, moving to stand behind her. He placed his hands back on the keys. In this position, with his arms encasing her, the warmth that radiated between them built into an inferno. His chest pressed flush to her back. She could feel his breath against her neck as he whispered in her ear.
“Place your hands atop mine.” She did as he instructed, as though pleasing him was all she wanted to do. She felt his chuckle at her back, his whisky smooth voice sending shivers down her spine.
“Whatever you do, don’t let go,” he whispered as his hands flew across the keys, so fast she had to grip him tighter.
The music flowed around the room, softer now, without the pedals to dampen and stress the notes, but still spellbinding. How long they stayed in that position neither knew. The prince’s arms strained from playing at such an awkward angle, though he had no desire to move.
They swayed and rolled together. Through every soul wrenching note, as the music built and built; faster and faster to an almost dizzying speed before crashing down around them in its crescendo. Leaving them both breathless. Still, neither of them moved. Content in the bubble of their own creation, a world where only they existed.
The prince reluctantly moved his hands to close the cover. Solveig’s fell to her lap only for him to grasp them, unwilling to let her go.
“Trust me?” he whispered against her skin, nuzzling her neck. The scent of her filling his nose, ensnaring his senses as she nodded, as lost in the moment as he was.
The simple gesture was all he needed. He gripped her by the waist, lifting her until she perched atop the covered keys. He came to stand between her legs, their bodies flush together as he held her face in his hands. Brushing the dark strands of hair from her eyes as she clung to his waist, wrapping her legs around his hips, he brought their foreheads together.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
She didn’t.
“Last chance, Princess. Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want me to kiss you, tell me how much you loathe me, tell me—”
Her lips slanted over his, silencing him.
“You talk too much,” she whispered against his soft mouth.
His hands tunnelled into her hair, bringing her face back to his so he could fuse their mouths together once more.
The dark prince and the twisted princess burned together. With desperate moans and feverish kisses, they devoured each other. They moved to the silent orchestra of their hearts. Solveig’s hands travelled beneath his shirt, skirting over the taut muscles of his abdomen. Fingers drifting with his quivering breaths as he tried to pull her closer. She gasped as she felt his hard length brush against her core. Stunned by the evidence of the raw effect she was having on him. Emmerich seized that opportunity to invade her mouth, nipping her lower lip, tangling their tongues together in more a dance than a war.
Beyond the open balcony doors, the sun lightened the sky in shades of soft blue and pale gold as it rose. The spell surrounding the two young royals didn’t break, not until the first calls of the dawn chorus filled the surrounding air, and they pulled away in shock.
Solveig touched shaking fingers to her bruised lips as a small shiver wracked her body. Her eyes locked on the prince’s smug smile when the sun shining through the windows caused something to sparkle on her hand.
Her engagement ring.
It was as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her. Her eyes deserted the prince’s gaze to stare unblinking at the ostentatious diamond upon her hand.
“Solveig?” Emmerich whispered, and she jumped, not at the sound of his voice but at her name on his tongue. The first time he’d ever said it to her. How she longed for it to have come in a different moment. A different time. When something other than shame wasn’t pulling her away from him. She untangled herself from his embrace, even though it felt wrong to lose his touch, as though their bodies, their souls belonged together.
“This was a mistake.” She heard herself say, almost like her voice belonged to someone else, because how could she mean it when her heart sang an entirely different tune? Yet still, that damned voice continued to lie. “We shouldn’t have done this,” and it wouldn’t stop.
Solveig moved to walk away, but Emmerich reached for her wrist, pulling her back to him. Cradling the side of her face with one hand, the other light at her waist, and the truth was laid bare for them both as she leaned into his touch.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he bit out, “you can’t tell me you don’t feel that.”
Before, there had been mere sparks of warmth from his touch. Now that she knew how he tasted, how his lips moved against hers, everything burned akin to an inferno ravishing her blood.
“I’m engaged,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze, the first truth she had spoken since the sun rose.
“End it.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he reasoned, placing his other hand on her face, forcing her to look at him. “Come sailing with me,” he whispered.
“Emmerich…” His name on her lips caused him to shudder.
He knew she was slipping through his fingers with every second that passed. “Get on my ship and never go back. You don’t owe them anything. They don’t need you.”
“I can’t simply leave. I have responsibilities…” She paused, tears brimming in her eyes. Remembering the death knell hanging over her head that she still hadn’t confessed to him. How could she put him through what she had with Aldrik? How could she knowingly do that to another soul?
“They have manipulated you at every turn. They don’t deserve you.” His thumbs drifted across her cheeks. “Don’t let them ruin you. You could be so much more, Solveig.”
“Don’t,” she pleaded, “it’s already too late. I’m already ruined. I’ve done too much I can’t take back.” Tears fell from her eyes then, “I need you to understand, please.”
“I don’t,” he declared, catching her tears as they fell, “the only mistake is if I let you walk away now, you aren’t ruined, you can still come back. You can make them pay for everything.”
They stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, foreheads touching, hearts beating as one. When a new voice cleared their throat across the room. Solveig’s face fell into the prince’s neck, where he cradled her head softly as his gaze flew up to find Malik Etana watching from the threshold. His eyes flickered between them, gaze hard on where Solveig hid in the prince’s neck.
“Adira has requested to speak to you, Solveig,” Malik said through gritted teeth, his voice cold as ice.
“Very well,” Solveig murmured, wiping the tears from her face as she pulled herself reluctantly from Emmerich’s hold. But he gripped the hand he still held tighter, forcing her to turn and look at him once more, utter sorrow in her eyes, hurt in his.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he repeated, so only she could hear, “for once in your life Solveig, be selfish.”
It was the wrong thing to say to an utterly confused princess at that moment. She pulled her hand from his with a finality that stung as she straightened her back, her mask of indifference sliding into place. “I am a Princess of Torrelin. I can never be selfish. My people, my country, must always come first. I have made commitments I will honour. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Solveig walked away with a broken heart, tears returning to her eyes once he could no longer see them.
“Did it have to be him?” Malik hissed as she approached him, nodding his head in Emmerich’s direction.
“My life is none of your concern, Malik Etana,” she skewered him with her red-rimmed gaze. “I thought I made that much clear the last time we saw each other.”
“After everything we went through. Together.” He implored. “It truly meant nothing to you?”
“I saved your life, Malik. You saved mine. We are even.” The Reaper of Luxenal left two men with wounded hearts in her wake that day as she went in search of Adira Etana. One would recover with time, as he was recovering from his years in the mine. The other? He would give her space, as he tended his own wounds. But he had her taste on his tongue now, her fire in his blood. He knew how she felt in his arms. He would give her time, but he would not give up.
Emmerich returned to the chambers he was technically still forbidden from leaving without escort, coming face-to-face with his friend pacing the room.
“Where the hell have you been?” Wrenn Bleeker exclaimed in frustration.
“I need your help.”
“And I’m afraid to ask why.”
Emmerich grinned sheepishly at her as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to convince the princess to go sailing with me.”
“And why would I help you get alone time with a woman who’s as likely to slit your throat as she is kiss it?”
“I need her,” he whispered; gaze clouded as the realisation hit him all at once.
“You barely know her.”
“I can’t let her go. Not yet.”
Wrenn thought it over for a moment, resigned to the truth that, at the end of it all, he was her prince, friends or not. She was bound to his bidding.
“Fine, but don’t blame me when she sends you to a watery grave. Better yet, write Valentina a letter so she doesn’t kill me on sight when I return to Elithiend without you.”
“Valentina won’t kill you,” Emmerich laughed, to which Wrenn raised a brow.
“Fine, I’ll write the damn letter.”