Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The dimly lit entrance to the manor carries a subtle strength.
Supple brown wood surrounds us, warm and welcoming, as we settle inside.
Vale glances at my hands as I peel away my gloves.
I reach for him and give a squeeze—just enough for his concern to ease and for him to shift into a childlike wonder, excited to show me around.
When the manor first came into view—nestled deep in the heart of the Jewel, the valley cut off from all the world, surrounded by pine forests and mountain peaks—Vale carried a deep, quiet pride.
Even before the estate appeared, I could feel his anticipation building as light broke behind the narrow pass.
My jaw fell slack the moment I saw it.
Still in the distance, the estate was gorgeous.
Shimmering slate caught the midday sun in brilliant reflections, almost ethereal.
Pale stone—bright and welcoming—made the whole of it feel like something out of a story.
The central building seemed to glow, a true beacon in a place only those meant to find it ever would.
Outbuildings are nestled around it: stables, an armory, quarters for the guard.
Bracken and the other horses were led that way as Vale opened the door to the stately home, allowing me to be the first to enter.
Barring the early concern over my hand, he has been transformed by an incredible enthusiasm since we arrived.
Ace and Soria mutter something about seeing themselves to their rooms as Vale takes me by the hand.
I worry I’ll miss savoring the details; he’s so eager to show me the entirety of the manor.
We hurry past an office and a sitting room, the intricate details of carved wood and painted walls all but a blur—until I finally tug at the hand leading mine and bring him to a stop.
His eyes are practically glowing with joy when he turns to face me. A tiny flash of concern crosses his brow before he sees the way I’m smiling back at him.
“Vale!” I chastise with laughter. “What is the rush? Please give me a moment to take it all in.”
I bend my knees and draw my shoulders in, a small tug returning him into the center of the room—and into me. He lets out a deep exhale, and I see everything in him finally begin to slow.
“I was getting carried away, wasn’t I?” The low rumble of his laugh mingles with the warm, lazy sunbeams shining through the many windows of the parlor where we now stand.
“A bit,” I chuckle as he steps closer, closing the gap that had stretched between us while I struggled to keep up with his eager pace. Resting my hands on his chest, I look at him—so full of love, of life—before taking in the room around us.
A carved wooden mantle crowns an impressive stone hearth.
From the array of objects arranged atop it to the lush weave of each piece of furniture, ornate embellishments abound.
Somehow, it isn’t overwhelming. Each feels like a declaration of love.
The care that went into crafting them… it’s staggering.
I take a moment and think not just of the hands that shaped this place, but of the sheer vastness of memories a room like this must hold. The thought takes my breath away.
When I glance back up at Vale, I see he’s been watching me intently the entire time.
“You’re right,” he sighs, heavy and content. “What was I thinking, rushing you through when there is so much to witness?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head as I press at his chest—not that it moves him in the slightest. “I want to see this place,” I say with a slight ring of desperation, knowing full well what he meant when he spoke while looking at me.
“And I want to see the way you look when you do,” he replies, mocking me only slightly as his grip tightens around my waist.
I feign struggling to get away from him—until his hand lifts, cradling the back of my neck.
The joke falls away with the way his eyes catch mine.
Heat flares between our bodies, making me forget whatever game we’d been playing.
His fingers tangle in my hair, giving a slight tug as he guides the kiss he presses to my lips—deep, unhurried, claiming.
“If that is how you intend to settle any arguments between us…” My words come out breathless, my lips hovering just beyond his. I can’t recall how I meant to finish the thought as he nips at my bottom lip—a gentle bite that makes my knees weak.
“Who said we were arguing?” he murmurs, the heat behind his words making it very clear he knows the power he has over me.
“How many rooms are in this house?”
Ace. Always one to shatter a moment—for better and worse.
Flushed, I turn away a moment after daring a glance at him, certain my cheeks are still pink from the heat of Vale’s attention.
“All these rooms,” Ace continues, clearly delighted by the way he’s broken us apart with his presence, “surely you two can find somewhere better for… all that.” He gestures vaguely at us, still struggling to compose ourselves.
“Shouldn’t you be tending to your own room?” Vale growls in his direction.
“Oh, come now, cousin. It only takes a moment to drop a bag. After a ride like that, I want to kick off my shoes, relax, and see what the cook has prepared.” He plops back on a couch and uses his feet to flick off one boot, then the other, lounging like a figure out of some tragic painting.
“Do you think we can commence this tour at a more reasonable pace?” I ask Vale, choosing to ignore our resident jester. Giving someone like Ace attention only spurs him on.
With that, we are on our way.
The manor is so sprawling I’m quite certain I’ll remember only a fraction of it as we finally step into the chambers prepared for us. The chambers meant for the king… and his queen.
Despite all the might of the High Hold, something about this room feels even more stately.
It’s larger than our newly shared chambers back at the palace, yet it feels more intimate.
The ceiling does not tower as high, nor do the posts of the bed.
Dark blue linens complement the walls, their subtle patterns only noticeable when standing close.
I see a few of the trunks Soria helped prepare, but also the efforts of those who have been working here ahead of us. My brush and comb are laid neatly at the vanity, gowns already hanging up, even a collection of books arranged beside the window at a spot perfectly meant for reading or journaling.
Despite only just arriving, it already feels like home.
“I can see why you love it here,” I say, turning to Vale, who has sat down on a bench at the foot of the bed, removing his boots one at a time and gently massaging his calves.
He stands and draws me into his arms. “I hope you love it just as much.”
I melt into his tenderness.
No longer needing words, I ease closer. He pulls at the ties binding the riding leathers around me, and I do the same for him.
Lifting the linen shirt from his body, my hands linger on his chest; the defined contours of his muscles send heat flooding through me.
By the time we are tugging at the buttons cinching each other’s pants, the passion is blazing.
In what feels like an instant, our clothes are scattered across the floor. He doesn’t lead me to the bed. Not yet. Sitting back on that same bench, boots and clothing kicked out of the way, he guides me closer with a curl of his fingers.
Straddling his lap, it doesn’t take long before our breaths grow heavy and sweat beads down my back.
We savor what it truly means to be man and wife—the simple, intoxicating pleasure of all a honeymoon is meant to hold.
Shaking free the braid that managed to withstand the half-day ride to the manor, I feel my hair tumble loose and wild around me as I lean down to kiss him. His hands grip me greedily, only heightening the raw power of our coming together.
By the time I slip into a day dress and pull the fabric over my shoulder, I feel exhilarated. Vale, buttoning a fresh shirt, looks at me with a grin.
“Now that is a way to work up an appetite.”
I bite my lip again—something that is fast becoming a habit since we arrived.
It feels like we could both end up skipping down the hall as we make our way to the dining room.
“Finally!” Ace laments as Soria flicks his arm off the chair, admonishing him for his complaint. “I couldn’t get Cook to give me more than a piece of bread before you arrived.”
We take our seats—Vale at the head of the table and me at his side. As plates are brought in and drinks poured, I am reminded that our roles remain, even here. There is no true escape from the crown.
“This looks amazing,” I say, taking in the fresh fruits, warm bread, and herbed spreads displayed with such lovely artistry before me. Then something in me stiffens, just slightly.
“What is it, dear?” Vale asks, always attuned to even the smallest shift in me.
I look at my companions, my gaze lingering on Soria—a knife hovering over a piece of bread, her hand gone still as she tunes in to me.
“I’m sorry. It’s silly of me, really.” I search for words, feeling suddenly out of place. “I’m just still not used to this. Having people wait on me. Care for me.” I look down at my plate, feeling a bit foolish among those who have known no different for far longer than I’ve walked this earth.
Vale places his hand over mine. Without dismissing my feelings, he offers, “You’ve had so much change.” He tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him as he says, “You’ve handled it with more grace than I think anyone could.”