Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The carriage rocked gently as it rolled down the road. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestone filled the silence that stretched thick and tense between them.
Not the tension between Ursula and Eric.
They sat close—too close for comfort, too far for satisfaction.
His hand was still wrapped around hers from when they'd reluctantly left the boathouse.
Those hands had dressed her. He'd fastened the clamshells over her breast. He'd refastened the sapphire gem around her neck.
He'd pulled the silk gown over her limbs. The fabric had slid down her heated flesh like a twilight wave—smooth, cool, and sinful. It clung to her curves, molded to every line of her body, hiding nothing from the man who’d just vowed his life to her.
His eyes had followed the descent of the silk like it was a ceremony unto itself, his touch lingering longer than necessary.
Now their fingers twined together like seaweed and netting. Her prince hadn’t let go. Neither had she.
Eric's thumb traced slow, aching circles on the back of Ursula's hand. His thigh brushed hers with every jostle of the road. The contact sent sparks up her spine. The hum of his attention was sunlight on her skin, like rays warming sea glass.
He glanced at her mouth, a slow drag of his eyes over her lips like he was hungry. Ursula curled her bottom lip between her teeth, and Eric’s breath hitched. He bit his own lip in response, his gaze darkening as if the memory of their kisses last night had sunk hooks deep into him.
Ursula's free hand rested on her thigh. What would happen if she slid her hand just slightly toward his? If she leaned forward. If she claimed his mouth again.
“Fighting has broken out in Prince Phillip’s kingdom.”
The sexual tension between Ursula and Eric snapped. What was left was the thick miasma coming from the other side of the carriage where Grimsby sat looking down at documents, his spyglasses sitting at the edge of his long, patrician nose.
Eric exhaled sharply, his posture straightening, but he didn't let go of Ursula's hand. "We dealt with the troll situation. How could they have gotten that far inland?"
The Inland Kingdom had been under siege by trolls for the past three years.
Trolls were ugly, persistent creatures that boiled down from the mountains like a plague.
The war had dragged on long enough to delay Prince Phillip’s marriage to Princess Aurora, a dainty but powerful heiress of a smaller coastal realm—one whose alliance had been crucial to the treaty between the land and the sea.
“Reports are still unclear, but it’s confirmed that forces breached the borders near the Eastern edge of the forest.”
With his other hand, Eric rubbed at the bottom lip that Ursula had wanted to bite just seconds ago. She still wanted to bite it now. Possibly even more so.
He turned slightly from her, giving her his profile. He looked older when duty returned to his face. Sharper. Wearier. Handsome in a different way.
“The reports also say that these were not trolls attacking Prince Phillip's castle but mermen.” Grimsby's gaze flicked to Ursula, acknowledging her for the first time since she'd gotten into the carriage. “The castle is said to be flooded, a tsunami-like wave overtaking the northern walls.”
"A tsunami? They're too far inland for that kind of storm. Unless…" Eric's hand tightened around hers. "A power like that could only come from the sea king.”
"Or his daughter," said Grimsby.
"It's clearly not Ariel." Eric dismissed the older man. "My wife has been with me all night. You and Princess Aurora developed a friendship, I was told."
All this time Ursula thought her cover would be blown by that side-walking crab. But no, it would be unveiled by the sea princess' tantrum. What had Ariel done now?
Ursula gave Eric her most prim look. Her husband quirked a brow as though she'd just shared a joke between them.
Grimsby still looked at her with suspicion, even as his words were directed at Eric. "You think it's King Triton then? For what reason?"
"No, I don't think it's Triton." Eric toyed with a lock of her hair absently. "It must be Ursula."
Ursula stiffened.
"It's the only other logical explanation. But why would your aunt do this?"
Ursula had to fight to contain her ire. What could she say? She couldn't clear her name and say she didn't do it because she was, indeed, with him all night. Or maybe she should?
Maybe now was the time to come clean and tell Eric that she was Ursula.
It wasn't like he could divorce her. But he certainly wouldn't look at her like he was now, like she could do no wrong.
Like they shared jokes between them. Like he wanted to know what she thought and would take her advice to heart.
"Is Prince Phillip unharmed?" Ursula asked instead.
"It would seem he's been taken in by the Forest Folk," said Grimsby. "He and the Forest Guardian have a… history."
Ursula knew that history well. She was willing to bet the Forest Guardian and the prince had more than a history. They had a future together. One that didn't include Phillip's intended bride. So why had Ariel razed the castle if Phillip no longer wanted to marry Aurora?
"And Princess Aurora?" Ursula asked. "Is she accounted for?"
"It would appear she's disappeared with the siren," said Grimsby. "Likely a hostage."
Ursula kept her snort in. Aurora was a hostage, all right. A willing hostage. Hopefully, she and Ariel would both stay gone.
"We should send aid to help rebuild the castle and offer to take in displaced refugees," Ursula said.
Grimsby raised a brow at the command.
"Do as your queen tells you," said Eric.
Grimsby's mouth pinched, but he nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
That's right. Eric was now a king, and she was his queen. The Coastal crown had only been waiting for its prince to take a bride before the honorific and the duty passed on to him.
The carriage rocked to a stop. The moment the door swung open, sunlight flooded in, too bright, too harsh. Ursula blinked against it as Grimsby stepped out first, his posture stiff, formal, ever the perfect chamberlain.
Eric followed, his broad frame cutting a striking figure against the morning light. He turned back toward her, extending his hand. When her fingers touched his palm, the sunlight softened, appearing to coalesce around him. Only him.
The moisture in the air was clean here at the castle, waves and sunlight mixing at this elevation to satisfy both her lungs and her gills.
Her legs ached from use—from last night as they had wrapped around her husband, as well as the long use of the two limbs in favor of her fin.
She had to endure it just a while longer before she could unfurl herself in a tub of warm salt water.
Servants lined the grand courtyard. Courtiers stood just beyond them, watching, waiting, whispering. A sea of eyes raked over her, assessing, calculating.
Ursula reached up, trying to smooth her hair, fix the folds of her gown. She looked like she'd taken a roll in a reef. Because she had. As she looked around, she saw some uptilted smirks, some lowered brows, and some wide eyes full of wonder.
She leaned toward Eric, lowering her voice. “You didn’t tell me we’d have an audience. I look like a drowned jellyfish washed up on shore.”
“You look like a bride who was well loved by her husband on her wedding night.”
He was right about that. She had been well loved. That was the only word to call what Prince Eric of the Coastlands had done to her body last night. He hadn't used her. He hadn't abused her. He had loved her.
Eric pressed a loving kiss to her lips now. Right there at the gates to his kingdom, where all eyes could see. When he pulled back, he smiled down at her, like a clam showing off the pearl in its belly.
“You're a rare gem, King Eric.”
"I'm your rare gem, my queen."
"That you are. All mine. And I am your queen." Ursula exhaled slowly, straightened her spine, and pulled the regal air she’d been born with around herself like armor.
She had fought for this moment. For this crown, for this title. She was Queen of the Coasts. Not Queen of the Sea, not yet. But she was a queen, nonetheless.