Chapter 17 #3
I should have fought harder to keep my sensible thoughts intact—he was a prince, Lord of the Vanguard of Ice.
The son of a Fae and a Strongman. Immortal.
Powerful. Dangerous. I was a servant. Unknown.
Human. Mortal. Weak. But I didn’t. Instead, I envisioned him guiding me inside the stable stall.
I imagined that it was him pinning me against the wooden wall.
Would he have hurt me, or would he have been gentle and attentive?
Ismail’s offer had been tugging at my thoughts for the past weeks. So after the sun came down, I mustered enough courage and went to the main stables.
“I hope it’s not a bad time,” I said, making my way in.
“Delia! You came. I—I didn’t think you’d come,” he replied, making his way out from one of the stalls. “Let me take your bag.”
Ismail showed me the horses as promised, giving me a short backstory on each. My belly grazed the half door and I watched Samina, a beautiful pregnant mare, while learning about her unfortunate past and mistreatment. It broke my heart.
“She’s lucky you found her just in time,” I told him, my eyes still glued to the mare. Then to my surprise, I felt Ismail’s little finger grazing my own. We exchanged smiles and shy glances.
Before I left, he told me, “I’m going to have to ask you not to come tomorrow. The stables will be closed for camp night.”
“Camp night?” I asked.
“Yes, we set up camp in the paddock and light campfires. We drink ale and tell tales by the fire. It’s better than it sounds in person. But you cannot come as it is for stablemen only. Because if it wasn’t, I would tell you to come.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be coming tomorrow. I will probably not be here until next month. Until my next day off.”
“Oh, that far away?” he asked, disappointment rolling off his tongue.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll wait for you,” he promised, and I nodded at him with a shy smile.
The following month, I visited him again.
“Delia!”
Well, he always seemed content in my presence.
He might have been called handsome if looked at the right way. Tall and lean. A kind, dimpled smile.
That night, we talked about the Graind Races, which were only a few weeks away.
Before I left the stables, Ismail gently yanked my hand and pulled me close.
Then he leaned in and just…kissed me. And I kissed him back.
For the first time ever, I was kissing someone.
I had no idea how to do it and for how long, so I just followed his movements.
I felt a tiny flutter in my belly whenever our tongues touched.
The following month I was there…and the many days off that followed.
It had been three weeks without Semuel, and I was still shaken up. Devastated. My eyes welled up and my lips pursed tight whenever I thought about our sad goodbye. Not to mention Mounir’s treatment that followed, which couldn’t have been more opposite to Semuel’s. I felt so alone in this world.
Ismail must not have noticed my pain, as the second I stepped foot inside the stable, he came running towards me with the widest grin. He snatched my hand and pulled me towards the last stall, the bigger one at the very end.
“Look,” he breathed.
I gasped. “Oh, wow! He’s the tiniest, cutest little foal in all of Lyrantheia,” I stated, eyes watering. I’d been tearing up at everything lately, but perhaps shedding tears over this little foal was as good a reason.
He let out a low chuckle. “Agreed. Samina gave birth two weeks ago. We named him Illy. I couldn’t wait to show him to you.”
We spent the next few minutes staring at the little foal.
Ismail reached for my hand and we strolled along the wide corridors of the stables.
He stopped our walk and pulled me towards him, reaching to brush my cheek.
I thought he was going to ask about my well-being, but instead, he leaned in for our mouths to meet.
I lost myself in that kiss. It distracted me from my misery.
It made me feel like I was alive, living.
I wanted more of it, and so I pulled him near.
I craved to be touched. It felt as if it was the only thing that could stifle my loneliness, a veil of pretence that masked my sorrow.
So when he opened the unoccupied stall and entered, I followed him inside.
And I let him. I let him pin me to the wall.
I let him lift my dress. I let him lower my undergarment. I let him push himself against me.
I winced.
I was there, with the hopes of silencing my pain, only to be welcomed by more of it.
Ismail didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.
It was as if he was blind to my hurt—to all of it.
Before I could push him away, his face twitched and he moaned, breathing heavily against my neck.
He removed himself from me and I quickly lifted my undergarment, staining it with blood and whatever it was that came out of him.
“I have to go,” I blurted.
“Delia, wait,” he called out, pulling up his trousers.
I didn’t. I hurried back to the castle with a watery face and a pierced heart.
I didn’t know how to feel about myself. I lay in my bed with a preoccupied mind and a hushed thought that lingered for days. I had shared my body with someone and I had never felt so lonely.