Chapter 35 #2
“He’s very loyal. Maybe if they started allowing bladebreathers to be used regularly in the upcoming war efforts, we’d have a chance at winning.” It was uncharacteristically snippy, but graceful nonetheless.
“I was unaware they were frowned upon,” I admitted.
“It’s… difficult to bond with one. A few too many mishaps have people—including King Xavian Steele, weary of bothering with them. That’s why they’re left alone in Moonhill.”
Moons of Glory, I wanted so badly to visit Moonhill.
“Alright, enough war talk. More drinking. And Elora, it's your turn.” Beck waved his hands at the cards.
“But I want to learn more about the bladebreathers.”
Amzee grinned. “I’ll show them to you. We can go up there soon.”
A few rounds of drinks later, I got the hang of the game. Every time I thought about Riven, I drank more.
So much so, I thought I was hallucinating when he and a few other members of the Brotherhood walked through the door.
It was a sobering sight as they sauntered right up to the bar.
He hadn’t noticed me in the corner, watching—wishing we were splitting a bottle of wine in a snowed-in tavern and laughing about terrible bard music.
Beck glanced at me skeptically before subtly turning around. “Ah,” he said as he looked back at his cards.
Amzee scanned the room. “What?”
“Elora is in the dumps about that man at the bar. The tall one.”
“Beck!” I gasped.
He placed a card on the table and shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
“All of this brooding over a man?” Amzee’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline as she dramatically gagged and clutched her chest.
It was horribly embarrassing. I was prepared to defend myself when my head began to spin, my mind taking me elsewhere.
Training grounds. Moonlight and torches guided my motions. I was in another body—-Xavian’s, sword in hand. I felt so angry. I wanted to break something, just to burn away some of the hurt that tore at my soul.
Just as fast as it took me, I came back—eyes flinging open in the tavern.
“What the hell was that?” Beck gawked.
I shook my head, uncomfortable in my own skin. “This weird bond thing I have with my twin, I think.” Did they even know Xavian was my brother?
“What?” they asked in unison.
I don’t know why I tried to explain it. They would not understand. I didn’t even understand.
It was as if Xavian’s emotions were merging with mine. As if everything was heightened. I wasn’t upset—I was devastated. I wasn’t missing Riven, I was longing for him. I’d never felt like this before.
“Wait, isn’t that your guy?” Amzee blurted, nodding at a group of women by the bar crowding around Riven. Their voices were inaudible, but he stood shaking his head as one of them stroked his arm.
I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t control my rising rage as another woman smiled and laughed with her mouth wide open, nose scrunching towards Riven.
My palms darkened, veins beginning to bulge.
I had controlled myself in the Waywards, and I could control myself here.
I compelled myself to stay put and watch everything I wanted in a person be found by another.
The brunette fawned over him, her friends giggling and blushing too. Riven shook his head again, shooting back a full glass of dark liquor.
Riven did not drink, yet there he was.
“Life is too short to sit in a dark corner,” Beck said, voice low and eyes stern.
He knew what it was like to lose someone.
“I’m not here to judge,” Amzee assured, raising her hands in defense.
I had survived so much, but I wasn’t sure I could survive another moment of that woman’s hand on Riven’s arm.
“I’m not ditching you guys to go bother with him.”
Amzee shuffled the cards. “We’ll be fine.”
Beck began stacking empty glasses.
“Do I need to drag you up there myself?” she pressed. I shook my head and swallowed my pride.
The ground felt a little wobbly as I stood. The girl's hand traced down Riven’s bicep. He ordered another drink.
I pushed past smelly, drunk patrons and marched up to the bar. I reached right between the girl and Riven, yanking him towards me.
“I told you I’m not interes—” Riven began as he turned around, stopping the moment his eyes melted on me.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but not in the tavern. Not in front of all these people.
My hands were shaking. “Can we talk outside?”
Riven nodded and stepped away from the bar, abandoning his drink.
“Wait your turn,” the woman snapped at me.
Lethally slow, I turned to her. As we made eye contact, we both registered the same thing. I glanced down at her arm to confirm. The reminder of my name on her skin looked irritated, like she had tried scratching it off.
“You… Drakish Blackheart bitch. How dare you show your crooked face!”
Riven stepped forward, towering next to me. “If you say another word, you will find your tongue on the floor.”
The darkness in his threat intimidated even me.
“What’s so special about her?” she asked, assessing me with pure disgust.
“You’d be wise to never again ask such an offensive question about the Princess of Castivian. Next time, you’ll be facing the king.”
Her wretched face went pale as she backed away. She mumbled apologies and explanations, but I didn’t care.
I gave a reassuring nod to Amzee and Beck, and left with Riven.
The streets were quiet, the brisk breeze brushing the backs of my arms. It was comfortably cool, unlike the stuffiness of the warm tavern.
He broke the silence first. “Her arm? Did you do that?”
Of course he had noticed.
I wasn’t ashamed, nor did I regret it. I had been treated like something to discard or be afraid of my entire life. The act of marking my name into her skin only touched the surface of the anger I’d wanted to unleash in retribution. Not just from her, but everyone like her.
“She deserved it.”
He had nothing to say to that, and didn’t hint at whether or not he agreed.
Through cobblestone streets, winding flowered pathways, and down alleys, we walked.
We were both a little unsteady, but nothing terrible.
I had walked home in far worse conditions in the Waywards.
The silence between us wasn't awkward, but comforting.
Occasionally we bumped into each other, granting a subtle smile or side eye, but an hour or so went by before either of us actually spoke.
“Enough,” Riven said abruptly. We stopped in what had to be the plainest, ugliest alleyway in all of Eiden.
I turned to face him. The alley gave us little space between each other. It was difficult to see, save for some moonlight and distant lanterns. The silence was unnerving, and it smelled earthy from the growth of weeds along the walls. “You decide to confront me here?”
“You decide to turn me away the day I bring you flowers?” he shot back. “After you chased me down earlier, then sought me out again the same night?”
I’d never heard him sound so…hurt.
I didn’t want to push him away. Surely he knew that.
I braced my hands behind me, in physical pain as I forced my mental wall down.
“I’m scared to have things…or people that I want,” I whispered.
Riven tilted his head. “Why is that?”
The answer was simple. “Because they are unbearable to lose.”
And I had lost so much.
Riven grabbed my hand. “You won’t lose me.” His face was sharp in the shadows. “I keep my oaths.”
Stepping closer, I led with my heart, black as it may be. Worrying about the betrothal could wait. Fear could wait. The world could wait.
I lifted up on my toes just as Riven leaned down, delicately grasping my jaw with both hands as he kissed me. His hands were so warm against my cool skin, his mouth even warmer as it trailed down my neck. Heat fired through my core.
He pulled away, only to slowly back me against the wall.
Gazing into his eyes felt more intimate than any touch I had ever felt from a man.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he reached down, picked me up and brought his mouth back to mine.
The cool stone against my back was a relief against the fire burning inside of me.
He kissed me fiercely and methodically, sliding his tongue against mine and tugging at my bottom lip.
Each kiss made me crave more.
I ran my fingers through his hair as he snuck a hand up my loose shirt. His mouth moved back to my neck, then behind my ear. He gripped my hips, pushing me further into the wall.
“We have to stop,” he breathed.
What the fuck?
“Why?” I snapped.
He let out a breathy laugh, brushing his lips along my jawline.
“The first time I fuck you will not be in an alley,” he murmured.
“You’re too prim for an alley, Sir Riven?”
“You are a princess, Elora.”
Not giving me a chance to retaliate, he slid his hands into the sides of my pants, pulling them down. A shiver rushed through me.
In a swift motion, he lifted me onto his shoulders and pressed my back into the wall.
His mouth found its place between my legs. I sighed, gripping his hair. He licked and kissed me with perfect pressure, sliding his tongue with such devotion that my legs shook against my will. I smacked a hand over my mouth to hold in my cries.
Riven held my legs in place, squeezing them as he worked. Pleasure didn’t begin to describe the feeling. He held me up as if he were starved, feasting until my body went limp.
Afterwards, time did not feel real. Euphoric and exhausted, we walked side by side back to the Silver Circle.
He made sure I got home safely and gave me a respectable nod goodnight as I sleepily ascended the steps, bashfully hiding my smile.
I picked the flowers up off the ground, locked the door behind me, and grabbed a glass vase from the kitchen.
I set the arrangement on my nightstand upstairs, pleased with almost everything.
I put my orb beside the vase, tapping it until it glowed a faint blue. With the black roses illuminated and the moon smiling from the window, I fell asleep grinning back at it. The night itself had been better than any dream.