Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Heat holds me as I stir, warm in his embrace, dim light barely filtering into the room.
My toes quietly dance across the tops of his feet, our legs tangled as I stretch.
If this is what letting go feels like, I may have to give in more often.
The content feeling as lush as the opulent bedding we are now cocooned in.
I feel the rumble in his chest before the words. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Gods—the way he looks at me. Unraveled with a glance, laid bare at his words. My ruin and my redemption in one.
“Good morning.” A satisfied smile curves my lips that he promptly seals with a kiss. His fingers trace the line of my neck, trailing delicately down my chest to the edge of the blanket loosely draped over me.
A wicked grin flickers across his face, snapping into solemn composure faster than I like. “I should leave before Soria arrives. It was one thing to have her take the night off after the revelry. She need not find me in your bed in such a state this morning.”
Sensing how the shift hits me, he softens, bends to press a playful kiss to my bare shoulder as I prop myself on one arm, the blanket threatening to slip.
“And what state would that be?” I ask, leaning into the playful and ignoring his imminent departure.
He flops back on the bed, the weight of him crashing down with a jolt that draws a laugh from my lungs. One arm tucks behind his head, the other tracing idle circles over any stretch of my skin within reach. Contemplation holds firm across his brow, then softens into a smile he seems to yield to.
“Happy.” He turns to me, sincerity lacing every fleck of light in his eyes. “I don’t remember the last time I felt this happy. This much peace.”
Shifting again, he pulls me close, a kiss pressed firmly to my crown. “You make me happy, Mira.” A whisper and a prayer in one breath.
Tucking my head into the crook of his neck, I let myself surrender. Not the blazing surrender to restraint of the night before. Not the passion etched on my skin in ways I never want to forget.
“Little flame.” The timbre of his voice is barely a current on the wind, his face nestled against my ear. Yes, I am his little flame. And he, my keeper. I don’t have to roar; my inner fire can be quiet with him. Still.
I don’t have to fear the quiet I once thought would be my end when pain and sorrow try to unravel me. Here in his arms, I can just… be.
He lingers a while longer, arms knit tightly around me as though reluctant to let go. I feel it in the way his breath slows against my hair, in the way his hand tightens faintly at my back.
At last he draws in a long breath and shifts, looking down at me with quiet gravity. “I should go. There is much waiting for me today.” His eyes search mine, the weight of his worry unhidden. “I don’t like leaving you.”
I press my palm to his chest, steady against the thrum of his heartbeat. “I’ll be alright. You’ve already given me more than I ever dreamed of here.” A smile tugs at my lips, small but true. “Besides, the library is waiting. I think I could lose myself there for hours.”
His mouth curves, though his brow stays furrowed. “You put on such brave words, little flame, yet I know how heavy all of this must be.” His fingers reverently graze my jaw. “But even in that weight, you shine. Stronger than I ever thought possible. Stronger than I deserve.”
I shake my head, but his eyes hold steady, awe etched in every line of his face. He bends, pressing one last kiss to my lips, slow and lingering, before pulling back.
“Then I’ll leave you to your books, though it costs me more than you know.”
He rises from the bed, and for a moment the blanket slips lower over my chest, leaving me bared to the cool air. He reaches for his shirt where it was discarded the night before, the fabric catching in his hands.
I prop myself up once more, watching as he draws it over the breadth of his shoulders, the linen skimming down across the marks I left. Heat stirs in me at the memory, my skin still remembering every place his mouth claimed, every place his hands burned into me.
The passion of the night lingers, etched into me as surely as any scar. I swallow hard, my throat tight, though I try to temper my expression.
He turns then, fastening the last clasp, and his gaze catches mine as if he felt the pull of my thoughts. For a heartbeat, something raw and unspoken passes between us before he tears his eyes away, pulling on his belt with sharp precision.
After one last glance—as if memorizing me there in the morning light—he turns toward the door.
Pulling myself to sit, the blanket now pooled low around me, the comfort of my naked figure—I feel changed.
Unbridled. That’s what I have been. More wild and free than ever before.
With him I forget my inhibitions. I could very well forget the entire world when his hands clutch me close, when his mouth claims mine.
I snap myself out of the trance, reaching for the shift left near the bed, ignored while I slept in his arms. The soft linen slides over my skin, but it feels wrong. What I want against me now is him. Longing. Belonging.
It is cut short when Soria enters. Only a single loose strand slipping from her braid betrays any sign of last night’s festivities. I, on the other hand, wear my telltale signs like hidden script across my skin. I hope they do not give me away.
If she sees any lingering marks, she does not mention them as she helps me dress for the day. The strangeness of it should give me pause—being dressed rather than dressing myself—yet the overwhelming sense of these past days dulls the edge of it.
If I am to step into a life like this, there is no one I’d rather have at my side than her.
Tying the bodice into place, I try not to think about the hunger with which Vale undid it the night before, his fingers trailing fire over every inch of me. Instead, I lock onto Soria’s words to pull myself into the day ahead.
“Well then, my dear,” she says, her kindness never faltering, “you are fit for whatever your heart may desire today.”
I manage a smile, gratitude softening my voice. “I think I’d like to spend more time exploring the library.”
Readied to escort me, she inclines her head, but I assure her I remember the way, grateful for the discreet route seemingly intended for me alone. Perhaps in time I will learn the maze of corridors.
The private path through the Observation Gallery feels like hallowed ground.
Light shifts through the dusty prisms of stained glass, scattering across the floor in fractured color.
I let my fingers trail along the cold stone and, on impulse, spin once, my skirts fanning out as I twirl.
For a heartbeat, I can imagine myself back in the forest, arms outstretched, unseen by anyone.
A rush of air and color sweeps over me. Freedom.
The gown’s hue, a lighter green than the night before, reminiscent of moss and shade, clings like memory. It makes me think of home, of the danger that drove me from it. My heart speeds with the reminder that my unease is not mere discomfort; there are real threats still out there, still hunting.
The rush in my chest as I descend the stairs feels like lightness fighting the weight of all I carry. Dare I call it joy?
At the bottom, in the quiet liminal space at the stair’s foot, I pause. Once again I have left the world I knew. Once again I have been given the gift of a place that might become my own.
My fingers trace the woven fabric of a chaise near the hearth. The fire is already lit, as if the room had been expecting me. It gives me comfort to know I can claim this small peace if the vastness of the library or the bustling court ever becomes too much.
I cast a smile at the guard posted nearby, my good mood shared with the brooding statue of a man. For a moment, I think he almost smiles back.
Energy gathers in my muscles as I pull the heavy library doors open. The guard shifts, ready to come to my aid if needed, but I manage on my own.
Inside, I stop, awestruck.
The cottage seemed a trove of knowledge beyond my wildest hopes. Here, shelves stretch on into shadows with tomes older than I can imagine, I have no idea where to begin.
I wander the rows, swallowed by the vastness of the stacks, my caress across the spines turning leather and parchment into sacrament.
Morning light shifts and brightens as I move deeper, simply taking it all in.
With no concerns for how much time has passed, I reach a place that stills me on the spot.
Iron bars and an ancient chain block a small deep alcove at the furthest point of the library. Steps lead down into darkness, into whatever secrets might lie beyond the barrier.
Something stirs in me. Calls to me.
Without thought, my hand extends beyond the chains, through the bars. The air should be colder in the dark depths. And yet… it reminds me of the lingering summer heat that rides a nighttime wind as the day cools. Warmer than it has any right to be in the absence of light.
“Best be careful, m’lady—dangers lurk beyond.”
Startled, I spin at the teasing, ominous voice.
Ace.
The mischievous grin that has already begun to endear him to me helps calm the pounding in my chest. Is it from the scare he gave me, or from that strange call on the other side of the darkness?
Ace gives me no time to ponder.
I spin, pulse leaping, only to find him leaning against a column, arms folded, grin irrepressible.
“Gods, you frightened me,” I snap, pressing a hand to my chest.
He only arches a brow, utterly unrepentant. “If a whisper in the dark rattles you so, what will you do when real shadows come calling?”
I glare, but he chuckles, pushing off the stone with easy grace. “Still, I can’t fault you for curiosity. You’ve got a nose for secrets—I like that. Reminds me of myself, only prettier.”
Falling into stride beside him as he leads me back toward the heart of the library, I nudge him. “You’re plenty pretty, Ace.”