Chapter 7 #2
He lifted his hand, as if he was going to touch her, then quickly dropped it when he realized what he was doing. “Still reading social situations just fine,” he replied with a sad smile before he moved to retrieve the food.
When he returned, tray in hand, he asked, “Do you like fish?”
“I am not opposed to a creature that lives in the sea,” she returned, her tone slowly returning to her signature mystical lilt.
Briar smiled, placing the tray on the small dining table near the balcony doors. There was seating for four, though when he dined in his rooms, he was usually by himself.
“I should have asked if you enjoy eating seafood. Fish. Shellfish,” he explained, lifting a lid off a platter of salmon and lobster.
She took a single step closer, then stopped. Her hands were at her sides, fingers curling into the fabric of her gown.
“If you do not, I had chicken prepared as well,” he added in a hurry, revealing the other platter. “There is also fruit, bread, and cheese.”
“But I told you I was not hungry?”
It was a question, and he picked up one of the two stacked plates. “You did, but if that has changed, there is plenty here,” he replied, beginning to fill his plate.
He was cutting a piece of bread from the loaf when he felt her approach. It took everything in him not to react as she peered over his shoulder. “I have dined with you in the Water Court before.”
“You have,” he agreed.
“But I was never served that,” she continued, and he knew she was referring to the oysters.
“I hoard them,” he said matter-of-factly.
There was an extended silence before she said, “I find that amusing.”
“Would you like to try one?”
“Does that not defeat the purpose of hoarding them?”
He huffed a laugh. “I suppose it does, but I am willing to do so.”
It was another few seconds before she gave a decisive nod. “Then yes, I would like to try one. And some fish. I do enjoy the food when I visit.”
“Noted,” he replied with a smile, placing his full plate before a chair. “You can have this plate. I will make another.”
Ashtine stumbled back a few steps, her gaze darting to the balcony doors. “You can eat, Prince. I will wait on the sofa. Or perhaps I should simply take my leave.”
Briar set the empty plate he had just retrieved back down, turning to face her. “Did I offend you in some way?”
“No,” she answered, shaking her head and taking another step back.
“If I did, I apologize.”
“I did not mean to come here,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“You can always come here,” he replied, moving closer to her.
Her focus snapped back to him. “That is a foolish statement. Impulsive visits cannot happen. This should not have happened. I will go.”
On instinct, he lurched forward, because he didn’t want her to go anywhere. She was clearly upset, and he reached out, clasping her elbow. Wind Walkers couldn’t travel with a passenger, so she wouldn’t be able to leave if they had physical contact.
“Ashtine, wait—”
But a violent gust of air slammed into him, and he was thrown backwards.
Tendrils of water from the ledges leapt out, wrapping around his arms and waist and keeping him on his feet.
More importantly, his magic kept him from colliding with the table full of food.
The force of Ashtine’s magic, however, had still blown the smaller plates to the floor.
Bread and cheese splattered against the balcony doors and grapes rolled across the marble floor while the dinnerware shattered.
He lifted his gaze to find Ashtine standing with a curved sickle blade in her hand.
The weapon’s blade was white and silver.
Skystone, he realized. Her reaction had certainly caught him off guard, but it shouldn’t have.
Ermir would have made sure the last Evermorn heir could protect herself.
Her childhood spent hidden away would have included all manner of training and that would have continued. Sion wouldn’t have let her stop.
“I would not harm you, Ashtine,” he said cautiously. “I only wished to speak with you more before you left. I did not wish for you to leave.”
“I can feel your wards, Prince Drayce—”
“Briar,” he interrupted.
Her lips pursed. “I can feel your wards. I cannot walk among the winds from your rooms.”
She wasn’t wrong, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly when he thought she was going to leave upset. Again.
“I admit I acted impulsively,” he replied. “I did not wish for you to leave.”
“You stated that, but I do not think I believe it.”
“Why would you doubt my words?”
“Because you ceased your visits.”
She said it so simply. No bite or bitterness to her tone. Just a statement of what was.
And it made him so uneasy because he did not want that to be her impression of him. She didn’t realize that—
“I understand I can be vexing,” she lilted, dropping her arm, but her grip remained on her weapon.
“Vexing. You think I stopped coming to see you because I find you vexing?” Briar repeated.
She gave a curt nod of her chin. “I do not fault you for it.”
He moved then, quickly in the way the Fae could, but so did she.
In the next blink, he stood in front of her, and she had her blade raised once more, the edge at his throat.
He let her keep it there, but he also placed the tip of his finger beneath her chin, tipping her head back and keeping her eyes on his.
“I find you clever. I find you captivating. Alluring in a way I have never experienced. I find you so incredibly enthralling that my thoughts wander to you multiple times a day. But I find you anything but vexing, Ashtine Evermorn.”
“Why?” she asked, and gods. It wasn’t breathy or teasing. She was truly asking why. Because she was Ashtine. The princess who saw the worlds differently than the rest of them.
“Because you are a breath of fresh air, my dear,” he answered.
Her brow furrowed. “That is … nonsensical.”
“Very much so,” he agreed. “It is nonsensical that even with a blade at my throat I am contemplating if the inevitable injury would be worth it to press my lips to yours.”
Ashtine stepped back, her weapon still poised as she stared at him for a long second. Two. Three. He gave her time, letting her process. Then she slowly lowered her blade as she said, “It is nonsensical that I am not opposed to that. It breaks laws of old.”
“It is nonsensical that I do not care,” he replied.
“You should care, Prince Drayce. Breaking the laws of old angers the gods and Fates.”
“Briar.”
“What?”
He closed the space she’d put between them, but she didn’t raise her weapon again. “Stop calling me ‘Prince Drayce,’” he said, the words laced with a primal growl. “And I do not care. In this moment, the only thing I care about is your permission to take what I want.”
“It is not that simple—”
“It is either an approval or a denial,” he cut in, echoing her words from weeks ago. He was being pushy, but he didn’t care about that either because he’d been thinking about this since the morning hours they’d spent talking together on a beach.
“We will regret this,” she whispered.
“I do not think I could ever regret you, Ashtine. Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
She’d scarcely whispered the word when his lips were on hers, breathing in her approval.
His hand cupped her jaw, tipping her head to the perfect angle to deepen the kiss while his other arm wound around her waist, pulling her into him.
In the back of his mind, he registered the sound of her blade clinking against the floor when she dropped it.
Then soft fingers skimmed along his cheek, and her other hand curled around his forearm.
Ashtine pushed onto her toes, seeking more from him, and his magic pressed against his skin in approval, seeking her wind, her air, all of her. Gods, if they weren’t careful, this was going to be far more than a kiss. If their magic became involved, this would become so much more.
She must have had the same thoughts because she broke the kiss first, but she didn’t move away. Their bodies were still pressed together, and when she tilted her head, silver hair flowed on her phantom winds.
Winds that had been absent until this moment.
“I am sorry I stayed away,” he murmured into the space between their lips. “Never again. If you need me, I will be there. With you. For you.”
His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, and an expression he couldn’t read filled her features. She finally took that step back from him. “I should return, but I require a water portal to leave your quarters.”
“I invited you for a meal, and we have not dined together,” he argued.
“I did tell you I was not hungry.”
“Then meet me on the shore before the sun wakes.”
“Perhaps.”
“I will be waiting.”
“And if I do not show?”
He stepped into her once more, brushing a soft kiss to her lips and savoring the taste of her. “Then I shall wait the next day and the next and not regret a moment of it.”
“Be well, Briar,” was all she said, her fingers dragging along his bare forearm as she moved past him.
He didn’t reach for her again. Didn’t try to keep her any longer. He conjured a water portal, and the Wind Princess didn’t look back when she stepped from his rooms.