Chapter 34
Emmeric
Emmeric sat in bath water that had long since gone cold. His mind kept snagging on one thing—Iyana might be royalty.
It already went without saying that Iyana was too good for him and he didn’t deserve her, but now that she was possibly in line for a throne, that thought process dug deeper.
Things between them had been evolving. They’d been flirting more.
She was touching him more casually and cuddling close to him voluntarily.
He’d brought her to orgasm only a few days before, and he knew she couldn’t stop thinking about it—the images and lust had fluttered through him multiple times each day.
Nine hells, he couldn’t stop thinking about it either.
The way she had felt around his fingers. The noises she had made.
There had been so many times in between the inn and Istoria that he had wanted to steal her away from the group and help her find release again.
But he didn’t know if it was something Iyana actually wanted, or if she had only allowed it because she was grieving and needed the distraction.
Also, there were no convenient trees to hide behind.
Phaedros take him, this was why he had told her he wouldn’t fuck her until she wanted all of him. He should have stood his ground more firmly, but he’d heard her desperate plea in his mind—please don’t pull away—and Emmeric found he could not deny her.
Sleeping in an actual bed with her again was seriously going to test his willpower.
A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, and it was only then that he realized he was shivering in the cold water.
“Yeah?” he shouted towards the door, climbing out of the tub and grabbing a towel. The door swung open.
“I—oh,” Iyana said, standing in the doorway staring at him. Emmeric hastily wrapped the towel around his waist and held it there with a tight fist.
His face heated, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing, but he soon realized Iyana’s gaze was roaming his bare chest and arms, and then his entire body was now flushed.
Her eyes finally made their way to his face.
Pure and heady lust flowed freely between them—Emmeric didn’t know how much was his, but at least some of it was hers.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “You’ve been in here for so long, I thought you’d be dressed.” Iyana cleared her throat. “We’re wanted at dinner.”
Emmeric could only nod. And it was only then that he noticed what Iyana was wearing.
She was in a floor-length turquoise gown made of a lightweight fabric.
It was draped over one shoulder, with cutouts at her waist showing off her delicious skin, and a slit up the side so that Emmeric could see her toned leg.
Those trainings had really started to hone her body into fighting shape.
His fingertips were beginning to tingle from how tightly he held his towel.
If she didn’t leave soon, it would be readily apparent how attractive he found her.
“I’ll let you get dressed.” Iyana’s eyes dipped down again.
Then her face lit up a delightful shade of red.
She spun around on her heel and raced out of the bathing room, making sure to close the door behind her.
A slight smirk tugged on Emmeric’s lips—he would do almost anything to make Iyana blush like that again.
It took him longer to dress than it should have because he kept picturing Iyana’s shocked, blushing face as she unabashedly ogled him, and Emmeric thought another cold bath would be necessary.
But he didn’t want to take so long that Iyana returned because the way he was feeling…
Emmeric might just say ‘fuck dinner’ and peel that stunning turquoise gown off of her like he was unwrapping a gift.
He, of course, eventually composed himself and dressed in his own fine clothing—finer than anything he’d ever owned before.
The pants and long-sleeved tunic were both made of linen, so they were still cool even in the hot desert air.
They were both black, but the tunic was woven with silver thread, creating a beautiful, abstract design that reminded him of Iyana’s magic in its purest form.
Emmeric found Iyana waiting for him in his bedroom, sitting on a divan with her legs crossed and staring pointedly at her fingernails.
When she heard him approach, she glanced up, and her eyes widened.
She looked over Emmeric’s new clothing, then reached out a single finger and lightly touched the silver thread.
When Iyana traced the pattern, he shivered.
He held out his arm in offering, and she smiled as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
They were escorted to a small, private dining room.
It had a modest chestnut table with six chairs surrounding it.
There were minute details—swirls and whorls—carved into the edges of the tables and chairs, and Emmeric ran a finger along them, appreciating the craftsmanship.
In another life, maybe he would have been a carpenter.
Queen Camilia frowned at him as she and her husband, Halim, walked into the room.
Emmeric honestly did not care if she didn’t want him there—Iyana did, and that was enough for him.
Iyana, and Iyana alone, was the only one he was loyal to.
The only queen he would bow to. The only goddess he would worship.
For the first two courses of dinner, they made idle small talk.
Camilia asked about Iyana’s upbringing, and Emmeric was shocked to learn that the queen had never even heard of Imothia before.
The way Iyana’s brows rose slightly told him it surprised her as well.
He thought it was a royal’s duty to know every nook and cranny of their kingdom, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
Emmeric was grateful, though, that Iyana did not disclose his part in raiding the village.
Iyana was fidgeting, nudging her food across her plate more than she was eating it. He placed his hand on her knee underneath the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Whatever she tells you, it will all be okay. Nothing changes who you are or how I’ll look at you.
With his words, Iyana visibly relaxed, her shoulders falling, and her leg stopped bouncing. She placed her fork on her plate.
“Is there any possibility that my grandmother Imo and your sister Imo are two different people?”
Camilia tilted her head from side to side. “I suppose. What was your grandfather’s name?”
“Does it matter? What if the man she ran off with was not the man she eventually married?”
The queen smiled, gaze distant, as if viewing a faraway memory. “Trust me, she would never love another the way she loved this man.”
Iyana worried her lower lip between her teeth. Emmeric wanted to tug it free, run his thumb along her plump lip, and…Iyana shot him a terse look, telling him without words to stop his current train of thought.
“He died before I was born, but his name was Leo.”
Camilia’s grin widened. “Short for Leofric?”
Conflicting emotions of excitement and dismay danced through Iyana, although she kept her expression neutral.
She’d been getting better at hiding her emotions externally lately, and Emmeric had never been more grateful for the bond they shared.
She was her entire self with him because he could see her, and he accepted her for who she was.
“Yes,” Iyana whispered.
“Then the Imo we know is one and the same. I am sorry to hear of their deaths, though. And your parents?”
“Dead. Uther murdered them.”
A shadow passed over Camilia’s face. “I am glad you killed him, then. That man was a monster.”
“Welcome to the Vinta family, Iyana,” Halim said, a wide smile wrinkling his face further. “I am so happy we have found you.” The prince consort hadn’t said much throughout dinner, but Emmeric liked him. He seemed to be a generally cheerful man, if one of little words.
“What does this mean for me? Zane is under the impression that I’m now the eldest female within the family.”
Servers quietly exchanged their plates with the next course, and they both waited impatiently for one of the royals to say something. It wasn’t until the door swung shut behind the last server, and Camilia took a bite of food before she spoke.
“Young Emperor Zane is correct. You, as my great-niece, are now technically the eldest female and would be next in line for the throne. Previously, it would have been my third cousin twice removed, since we were not blessed with children of our own”—Halim held her hand—“but she is only twelve-years-old. You, as the Aztia, would be a powerful queen.”
Iyana’s eyes had widened with each sentence. Emmeric placed his hand on her knee and left it there in silent comfort.
“I wouldn’t know anything about being a queen. I was raised in the middle of the desert, in a village you’ve never even heard of.”
“Who better to lead a country than one who knows all of it? Plus, I think you are already acting like a queen. You have made alliances with both Athusa and the reclusive Nyr—something I have tried to do for decades with no success—and you are attempting to rally an army to fight a threat to our continent. Those are all things a queen would do.”
Iyana glanced away from Camilia and fiddled with the carvings on the table. “What if I don’t want it?” she asked in a quiet, tired voice.
Camilia and Halim exchanged a glance, then they both smiled kindly. “My dear,” the queen said, “I would not force you into anything you did not want. But you have time. I don’t plan on going anywhere soon. Just think about it.”
Nodding meekly, Iyana went back to pushing the food around her plate.
They spent the rest of dinner mostly in silence, not eating much, at least not until the dessert came out—lemon bars, which Iyana and Emmeric devoured readily.
With a small chuckle, Camilia had the servers bring out another for both of them.