Chapter 33
ChApter
Thirty-Three
I’m starving. After Dante’s trial, Nadya helped me return to my room to rest and heal, and I drifted off to sleep for a good two hours. Now that I’m awake and feeling myself again, I can acknowledge the loud grumble of my stomach, urging me to find sustenance.
The first thing I asked Nadya when I awoke was if Dante was all right. He’d been bleeding from the trial, and I had the desperate urge to heal him. But Nadya informed me that the queen’s healers had already tended to him. I wonder if one of them was the water-wielding fae.
Nadya and I make our way downstairs to the dining hall with hopes that we’ll find something to eat.
The palace on the Messanyan coast is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
It lacks the towering grandeur of Ivystone or the rigid austerity of Podrosa, yet its elegance is undeniable.
Everything here feels soft—from the plush, velvet cushions on the chaise to the gauzy, white curtains that ripple with the evening breeze.
The windows, flung wide open, invite the salt-laced air and the distant crash of waves against jagged rocks.
Silver lanterns hang from delicate chains overhead, casting a warm glow across the pale, marble floors.
Even in the quiet, the place hums with an energy I can’t quite name, as if the very walls have absorbed centuries of enchantment.
The wind is quieter now. Softer. But maybe it’s simply because I’m comparing it to the roaring tsunami that threatened to wipe us out.
We slip into the kitchens, where a few servants bustle about, scraping the remnants of the grand lunch from platters and decanting sauces into small jars.
The air is warm, heavy with the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat, and my stomach growls loud enough that one of the cooks glances up with a chuckle.
“Apologies,” I say. “We missed the lunch earlier. Is there any chance we could have something small?”
The woman, plump and red-cheeked, waves a dismissive hand. “Of course, Your Highness. We’ll have something prepared in the dining hall.”
Nadya bumps her shoulder lightly against mine, grinning. “Small, she says.”
While the staff gathers dishes, Nadya grabs an apple from a wooden crate on the counter. She flashes it at me, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to show you last night. Watch this.”
I raise a brow. “Nadya?”
Before I can stop her, she mutters something under her breath, fingers curling loosely around the apple. A shimmer washes over it, like a ripple through glass. The apple vanishes from sight.
I stare into Nadya’s seemingly empty hand. “Nadya—”
“Shhh,” she hushes, casting a furtive glance toward the servants. No one seems to notice.
I gawk, my heart kicking up in my chest. “What did you—how long can you hold it?”
She bites her lip, concentrating, but then the shimmer falters, and the apple snaps back into view. She tosses it up and catches it with a proud, little smile. “Not long. But I’m getting better.”
A flicker of pride wars with my worry. “You need to be careful with that,” I murmur. “If anyone sees—”
“I know. I will. I just wanted to show you.”
Before I can press further, one of the servants waves us along. “If you’ll sit in the dining chamber, Your Highness, we’ll bring your meal shortly.”
We thank them and head into the adjoining hall, where the long, oak table is already being laid with plates.
I glance at the spread: sliced salmon peppered with herbs, a plate of olives and soft, warm bread, figs stuffed with nuts, and a pitcher of chilled citrus water. It smells divine.
We each take a seat, and the moment I pop a fig into my mouth, I realize just how hollow I’ve felt all day.
Nadya watches me with a small grin. “Feeling better?”
I nod, though the ache in my muscles is a stubborn thing. I take a bite of the salmon, almost moaning at the deliciousness. “I’ll live.”
“You gave me a scare, you know.”
I offer her a faint smile. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant on my end, either.”
Nadya tears off a piece of bread, her expression turning thoughtful. “You should talk to Ezra. See if he can help you regain some of your strength.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
“With the Messanyan magister,” she says. “Apparently, the man has an entire library of sea-based potions and remedies. Ezra couldn’t resist.”
I’m about to ask more when Nadya suddenly stills, her gaze fixed over my shoulder. I turn to see Dante leaning against the doorframe, arms folded loosely across his chest.
But then I catch the tightness in his jaw. The way his shoulders are squared just a little too stiffly. There’s something simmering behind his gaze.
He steps forward, closing part of the distance between us. “We need to talk.”
The words land differently than expected—no teasing, no easy charm.
I narrow my eyes. “About the trial?”
His silence answers me.
I push back my chair and rise. “Let me guess. Somewhere private?”
Nadya waves me off with a grin. “More for me!” she says, already reaching for the olives.
Once we’re alone in the hall, Dante keeps his voice low. “I want to take you somewhere.”
I arch a brow. “Is that allowed?”
“Technically? Probably not.” The corner of his mouth tugs upward. “But Silas is busy talking politics with Verina, and I may have faked a headache to escape.”
I shake my head, suppressing a smile. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“Lucky for you, then.” His eyes flick toward the corridor ahead. “Besides, Sir Holden and Sir Donovan are both down in the barracks. They’re being shown the Messanyan defenses, so we have some time.”
It’s very hard for me to resist him, but a part of me hesitates. I already risked his legitimacy by interfering with the trial. I don’t want to give Silas, Verina, or anyone else cause to rip his potential title from his hold.
But then Dante’s grin turns sly as he offers his hand. “Come on. Trust me.”
I’m a skilled strategist and soldier, but I’ve already lost this battle.
We slip down the corridors like a pair of thieves, dodging the occasional guard and servant. I spot Indira outside one of the side parlors, and we have to duck into a linen alcove until she moves on, muttering about lazy nobles.
Eventually, we reach the castle’s outer grounds, where a single horse waits tethered to a post beneath a jacaranda tree. Its violet blooms flutter like confetti in the breeze.
“One horse?” I ask.
Dante smirks. “Suddenly scared of sitting too close to me, Highness?”
I return his smirk and pull up my skirts to mount the horse.
He hops up behind me, the reins in his hand, as he guides us away from the castle.
The proximity of our bodies is intoxicating, with his thighs straddling me, his hand resting low on my hips.
We ride toward some hills, the heat and the friction coaxing me to lean back into him.
When our trail winds upward, weaving through stretches of pale-green hills dusted with wildflowers, Dante’s hands glide downward to my upper thighs.
I find myself arching my back so that my ass is closer to his groin, delighting in the constant rubbing of our bodies.
I dare to let out a whisper of a sigh when he starts tracing slow circles on my thighs, his finger inching closer to the heat igniting at my core.
But even though I can feel him grow hard against my ass, he doesn’t move his hands to where I really want them. A part of me feels like he’s punishing me like this on purpose.
So I punish him back, shifting my ass back so there’s no space between us.
The higher we climb, the more the islands of Messanya reveal themselves, scattered like emeralds across the turquoise sea. With the lush colors of the land against the pink and orange of the setting sun, the scene spreads before us like a painting. Surreal. Beautiful.
When we round a mossy rock formation at one of the higher levels of the mountain, Dante slows the horse, guiding us toward a veil of ivy and flowering shrubs, the sound of trickling water growing louder as we dismount.
We push through the greenery, and suddenly, the world opens—an enclave of smooth rock cradling a pool of water fed by a slender waterfall that glitters in the fading light.
The lagoon’s water is as clear as glass, its surface shimmering with every gentle ripple.
The far edge of the pool falls away into a jagged overlook, where the sea glints beyond, dotted with scattered isles.
“This is where you take your conquests?” I tease, but softly, because the place feels too sacred for sharpness. “I’m sure there were a flurry of Messanyan ladies hoping you’d invite them for a ride.” I almost laugh at my own pun.
He chuckles. “There were a few, yes. But I paid them no mind.”
“They didn’t use their powers to convince you?”
“Response to siren powers differs with each person. The stronger someone’s mind, the harder it is for a siren to glamour them.”
“So, you’re saying you have a strong mind.”
“I’m saying there isn’t a siren strong enough to sway me from the person I truly want.”
A shiver travels up my spine. “I see.” My voice barely rises above a whisper.
He smirks. “But to answer your question: no. I haven’t brought anyone else here.
Just me. When I was younger, I’d come here when the world got too loud.
When I didn’t know where I belonged.” He tugs off his boots, then starts to strip down to his underclothes.
“But the world feels quieter with you in it.”
“It’s beautiful here.”
Instead of responding, he lets his eyes roam over me. “Undress.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I shed my shoes and outer layers, leaving on my shift before wading in. The water bites at first, cool and crisp, but then it embraces me, up to my chest. Dante joins me, the surface rippling around his broad frame, his hair curling damply at his temples.