Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Eirabella
Rylan’s breathing is soft and steady, his chest rising and falling under my head when I wake sometime around sunrise. My body is still deliciously sore from the way he’d thoroughly ravaged me last night. After we’d recovered from the first time, he’d laid me out on the rug in front of the fire and, as promised, had kissed every inch of my skin. He hadn’t mentioned the scars running along the tops of my thighs or around my wrists—just kissed each one with reverence, before moving on to my stomach, and over the swell of my breasts. Then he’d flipped me over so I was bracing against the side of the couch, hovering over his face as he licked me to within an inch of my life, until my thighs had shaken with the effort of holding myself up. Once I’d come, legs barely holding under me, he’d dragged me over his cock, and had me ride him until I felt like my entire body was moulded to him, and I’d come so hard my throat was hoarse from calling his name .
I sigh and wriggle closer against him, pulling on the arm draped over my waist, needing to feel more of him around me. He stirs in his sleep, burying his face in my hair, murmuring something unintelligible. It’s adorable and sexy both at once, and I almost want to wake him up so I can look into those eyes that have come to feel like home to me. But I don’t. After what happened last night, it’s hard to know what to expect today. With the fire dwindling, sunlight filtering through the thick velvet curtains, and his desire fulfilled, I wonder if, when he wakes, it will be a recreation of the morning at the inn. As if sensing the thoughts in my head, he pulls me closer, and his lips whisper a single name, “Valora.”
I freeze. And my heart breaks. It was hard enough hearing the name of another woman on his lips months ago, when he was just the handsome but mysterious captor, but now, knowing that she’s the ghost against whom all other women, including me, will be measured, it’s almost unbearable. I should have known better. I knew, I knew that he was never going to get over her, and I let his sweet words and heated kisses distract me from that. The only thing I can do now is try to leave with what little dignity I have left.
Slipping out from under his arms, I collect my discarded clothes. Quickly pulling on the torn skirt, I grimace, knowing I won’t be able to lace myself back into the bodice. I grab Caelum’s jacket, pulling it over my arms, and open the door, quickly peering down the hallway, relieved to see his wing still quiet. I risk the four-foot run from his rooms to mine, wincing when my door closes a little too loudly behind me, but glad I wasn’t caught slipping out of the crown prince’s room, half-naked.
“What did you do to my beautiful dress?!” a voice shouts and I almost jump out of my skin.
Brienne is standing at the tub in my room, preparing my bath, the hot water steaming as it fills, suddenly looking so inviting. My lady’s maid has her hand on her hips and an unimpressed look on her face as she takes in the beautiful dress she’d made for me, torn at the skirt, the bodice crumpled and gripped in my hand. Gods only know what she thinks about me wearing a man’s jacket over my otherwise bare upper body.
“Brienne! What are you doing here? Er, this isn’t what it looks like.”
She throws me a look Mistress Verisya would’ve been proud of. “And just what is it that you think this looks like?”
But before I can say another word, my door flies open and Rylan storms in, shirtless, and still in the process of pulling on his pants.
“Eirabella, where the fuck did you g—?” He stops, hands on the top button, when he sees Brienne standing there, openly staring at him. I can’t blame her. I did the same seeing him shirtless the first time. Though, I can’t help but notice that the Celestaris gemstone on his chest is swirling, a stormy grey, unlike the red hot it had shone during most of the night. Even with my heart aching in my chest, I can’t help but note that Rylan looks fucking good.
My lady’s maid has the presence of mind to quickly excuse herself, but not before raising her eyebrows at me behind his back. “Er, your bath should be ready now, Eirabella. Please excuse me, Your Highness.”
He doesn’t acknowledge her and simply continues glowering at me until the sound of my door quietly closes behind her. Then he stalks over to me, eyes blazing. “Why are you here?”
I frown and take a step back. In the light of day, the power of his sheer presence is overwhelming. Sometimes I forget that he exudes nothing but sheer power. “Why am I… in my room? I’m not sure I understand the question. ”
Annoyance flickers over his features. Ah yes, there’s the look I know so well. “You know what I mean,” he snaps.
“I’m not sure I do.”
“I mean, why are you not in my room?”
Because you don’t want me there. You want someone else . “Because… it’s… your room…” I say slowly. Are we suddenly not speaking the same language?
He huffs. “Eirabella, you’ve never been known to be slow at understanding. Let’s not start now.”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. “You know, it’s been a while since I felt like slapping you, but I’m starting to become reacquainted with the urge. So before that happens and Captain Corvane has to come in and apprehend me for attacking a member of the royal family, please, clarify, what are you talking about?”
He runs a hand through his hair and then over his still sleep-tinged face, and I think I catch a flash of vulnerability flitter across his expression. “I… didn’t like waking up to see you’d left. I reached over and you were gone. Why did you leave without waking me?”
All the irritation disappears and my heart softens at his words. “I… didn’t know if you’d want me there,” I say.
He blinks. “ Please tell me that’s not the actual truth.”
I narrow my eyes at him again, hands immediately coming up to brace on my hips. “Are you calling me a liar?”
He rubs his temples like I’m giving him a headache. “Morath help me when it comes to you, Eira. I’m asking if you actually wondered whether or not I’d want to wake up with you in my bed.” He takes three steps forward and pins me against the post of my bed. “After last night, how could you still have a single question about that? I think I made it pretty fucking clear.”
I fold my arms, determined to put space between us, no matter how little. “I think your understanding of pretty fucking clear needs reassessment.”
His eyes slowly scan my body, his eyes turning pitch black. “So it seems.” He grabs my wrist and spins me around. Then, in a move reminiscent of last night, he rips Caelum’s jacket off me. Holding it away from his body, it suddenly bursts into flames in his hands and he throws it onto the ground.
“Rylan! What in all of Morath’s heavens?”
He doesn’t answer, just watches the jacket burn to ashes, and then waves a hand, snuffing out the final dying embers. Then he glares at me, the fire now in his eyes. “For example, I thought I made it pretty fucking clear when I told you I never wanted to see you wearing his jacket ever again.”
“I needed something to wear so that I wasn’t seen running with my bare tits out from your rooms! Is that what you want?”
His eyes momentarily widen at the vulgarity of my word choice. “I didn’t want you leaving my room at all, that’s the whole damn point!”
My hands ball into almost painful fists by my side to keep myself from slamming them against his naked chest. “What did you expect me to do when you’re murmuring another woman’s name in your sleep while I’m lying in your arms!” I shout. Well. Guess that cat’s out of the bag. “Because I thought I made it pretty fucking clear that I wasn’t going to just stand around watching you with other women!”
He blinks. “What in the realms are you talking about? What other woman’s name?”
“Valora! You were obviously wishing I was your… friend, Val, who you were supposedly in love with who died!”
He closes his eyes, obviously wanting to hide them from me and turns toward the wall. He braces his hand against it, dropping his head on his own arm for a moment. Shit. I shouldn’t have brought her up .
Even in my jealousy, my hand reaches out, wanting to comfort him. I might be hurting, but I can’t stand to see him in pain. My hand touches the warm skin of his back and he spins around, taking my hand in his, and yanks me against his body.
He leans down so close that his lips brush against mine with every word as he says, “Eirabella Kaye, you are without a shadow of a doubt, the craziest, nuttiest, most infuriatingly insane, and yet, adorable woman I have ever had both the pleasure and frustration of ever knowing in my entire life.”
Okay…
“Um… thanks?”
He shakes his head and a reluctant smile spreads over it. “Val is not short for Valora. Her name was Valynia. Valora is a word in Kaldoran.” Celador’s ancient language. The one his grandfather had taught him, that he has tattooed around his bicep.
“Oh.”
He nods. “Yes. And what does ‘valora’ mean?”
I shrug. “How am I supposed to know?”
“Think about it, you’re smart. You can figure it out. What other words in Kaldoran do you know?”
My mouth shuts tight. I’m not in the mood for a language test.
He sighs again, and then spins me into his arms, so that my back is pressed to his chest and he wraps his arm around my front. With a soft urging of his thumb on my chin, he tilts my face to face his inked bicep. “Read it.”
“Rylan…”
“Read the fucking words, Eirabella. Before I, I swear to Morath, bend you over this tub and fuck the stubborn right out of you.”
My core clenches at the threat, liquefying. But I do as he says and recite the saying without needing to read the words. I know it by heart. “Thros virendis, soltar; thros elandor, kareth; thros valinthar, valoris."
“Exactly, ‘thros valinthar, valoris’. From heart, courage. Any of those words sound familiar?”
Oh. Shit. Realisation dawns. “Valora means…”
“...courageous heart. Yes.” He nods, his chin brushing against the top of my head. “It’s what I call you . Secretly. In my head. And apparently, in my sleep. Always have, always will.”
I let my head fall back against the wide expanse of his strong chest and let out a whoosh of pent-up air. “Really?”
A chuckle vibrates through his lungs and against the back of my head. “Yes, you insane, impossible woman. You are the bravest person I’ve ever known.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “But… at the inn. You whispered valora that morning too.”
His arm drops to my stomach, pulling me in closer, his face in the curve of my neck. “That’s because I already thought you were the bravest person I’ve ever known. I have since the moment you ran away from me into the woods. Twice . Difficult and damn near impossible to shut up. But brave.”
This time, I do smile as I feel my heart stitch itself up. “Oh.” I turn the word over in my head. “Valora.” He nods again. “I like it. I wouldn’t mind actually hearing you call me that sometime.”
“Done.”
I reach up behind me, tilting my head up and he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me softly. When we pull apart, I shake my head, pointing at the pile of ashes in the middle of my room.
“But seriously, Rylan, what in Morath’s name was that about?”
He steps forward, taking me with him, and then spins me around, until the back of my legs brace against my bed and I fall back onto it. He follows me, laying his body on top of me. “ That was a warning,” he says, his voice carrying the edge that backs up the statement. “That is what will happen to any other man who so much as puts his jacket… or hands on you ever again. So, unless you want to be constantly sweeping up ashes, you’ll make it known to other men just who you belong to.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help grinning at his over-the-top possessiveness. “You’re the crazy one.”
He smirks, and then drops his head, dragging his mouth against my throat with a snarl. “I am when it comes to you. Because here’s something else I apparently need to make crystal fucking clear. You are mine, Eirabella Kaye. And I don’t share.”
His mouth drops down onto mine and kisses me again, hard, hungrily, only pulling away when I’m breathless. Then, he flips me onto all fours and positions himself behind me. With rough hands, he tears away what’s left of my skirt, ripping it from my body. Grabbing my hips, he pulls my ass back against his hardness, grinding his arousal against me, making me weak at what’s about to happen. Hands reaching under me, he finds me already wet for him, and he growls approvingly. “And now, disciple, first lesson of the day. Because you didn’t seem to have learned it last night, I’m going to fuck you until you have no doubt in your mind about just who you belong to.”
When I wake again, it’s deep into the morning. The bed is empty beside me, but still warm, still bearing the indent of his body. I roll into it, bathing myself in his oaky scent, the feel of him around me. My heart sinks, and I can’t help the small pang of doubt that creeps in. So I can’t leave him, but he can leave me? It feels like the theme of our entire relationship. I sit up, drawing the blankets around me, remembering the fervour with which Rylan had insisted that I was his, and what that means for us now. He may think that I’m his. But he never said he was mine.
But before I can get too far into my own head, my bedroom door creaks open, and there he is, carrying a silver tray, looking effortlessly, breathtakingly handsome with his tousled hair, shirtless torso, and beautiful grin. My heart does a somersault at the mere sight of him.
“Oh good, you’re up. Hungry?” he asks as he sets the tray down on the bed in front of me.
I shuffle into a sitting position, pulling the blanket up to cover my bare chest. “I was wondering where you were.”
He thirstily downs a glass of pomegranate juice, then picks up the other one and hands it to me before sliding onto the bed. “I thought I might need to replace some of the energy I’ve had you spend with me.”
“You’re spoiling me,” I tease, raising an eyebrow at the array of food on the tray. “If this is what you’re like after one night, I could get used to it.”
“You should,” he replies. “Besides, you need to eat. We need to keep your energy levels up for all the training you’re about to have to do. Among other things…” He buries his face against my neck, and deeply inhales. “Fuck, you always smell so good.”
I giggle and press a kiss to his shoulder. “You smell… sweaty! What were you doing?”
He grins. “I was carrying this heavy tray and rushing to get back to you, silly woman.” He puts on a mock sad face. “I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known I’d be insulted when I came back!” He nudges the tray closer, and I see it’s filled with some of my favourite breakfast foods—fresh bread, fruits, cheeses, all laid out beautifully. “Now eat. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t been eating and sleeping as much leading to the trial. Was it just nerves?”
My stomach growls, and I realise just how much I’ve needed this. “You know,” I say as I copy him and empty my glass of juice, “you’re worse than a mother hen. You might as well be feeding me by hand.”
“I would, if I weren’t afraid of you biting it off,” he quips, as he watches me grab a bunch of grapes in one hand, a sweet roll in the other, barely waiting before I shove both in my mouth. But his tone shifts as he watches me eat. “What were you thinking about when I came back? You looked… worried.”
I shrug, pointing to my full mouth as an excuse for not answering. But I should’ve known that wouldn’t work. I take my time chewing, swallowing, but when I lift my half-eaten roll back to my mouth, he pushes my hand down.
“Answer, then eat.”
I roll my eyes. “It was nothing.”
“Then you won’t mind telling me.”
My face screws up. Admitting to my insecurity isn’t really something I feel like doing. “I told you, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he pulls the tray to the far end of the bed, extracts what’s left of the roll in my hand, throws it over his shoulder, and then grabs my shoulders, pulling me up onto my knees to face him.
“Okay, you stubborn woman. Let’s try this one more time. When I ask you a question, you answer. And let me decide whether or not it’s something I should worry about or not.”
“Rylan…”
“Start. Talking.”
I hiss through my teeth at his bossiness, and then remember that this has always been who he is, from the first moment I met him. “I was just wondering… about where we go fr om here.”
There’s an almost imperceptible raise of his eyebrows, but he just leans back and folds his arms, his face giving me nothing as he scrutinises me. Finally, he opens his mouth and I think he’s going to tell me what’s on his mind, but he just says, “Elaborate.”
I pull a face. “Well, firstly, let’s not go back to Sir Single Word Sentences.” The corners of his mouth twitch before the flat mask slides back over his face. I roll my eyes. “Or Earl of the Emotionless.”
The mask breaks and he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Eira… how about we keep it to one argument a morning?”
“What? You told me to elaborate about where we’re going, and I just told you where I don’t want to go. That’s better than anything you have told me!”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they’re softer, but still unreadable. “By elaborate, I meant, what do you mean ‘where do we go from here?’”
“Oh. Well, I meant… just that. What’s next for us?”
He nods. “Well, the final Keeper trial is in two months. And as we’ve seen, Selene isn’t going to be easy to beat.”
“Not that.” Gods, men are dumb.
“Then, what, Eirabella? Help me out here. I don’t speak ‘convoluted female.’”
Narrowing my eyes, I reach for the pillow at the head of the bed and move to whack him over the head with it. Somehow, not sure how, he manages to deflect it completely by barely even moving, and it ends up on the other side of the room. Then he reaches for my ankles and pulls them so that I’m lying flat on the bed as he climbs over me, trapping my legs under him as he straddles me.
“You are not making this easy on me, disciple.”
“That’s not my job,” I retort.
Grins spread over both of our faces as the memories of our first encounter flash in our minds. His mouth softens into a smile, warmth flooding his eyes as he strokes the back of his knuckles down my cheek.
“Valora, you are seriously going to be my downfall, aren’t you?”
I shiver deliciously at the use of my nickname. “That all depends.”
“On?”
I push hard on his chest and he falls to the side, and we switch positions, me straddling over him. His hands grip my hips as I look down at his face. “On what your answer is to ‘where do we go from here?’”
A lazy, irresistible grin spreads across that delectable mouth of his. “Oh, well, that’s easy.” I cock an eyebrow. “We go wherever you want, Eira. You’re in charge here. You always have been.”
I grin. “In that case, no training today.”
He laughs. “Not in charge of that. Unfortunately, missing training sessions is not a habit we need to get into.” He turns serious. “You did well at the trials. I can’t imagine anyone who could’ve done what you did in three short months. But Selene has been training for this her whole life. You’re going to really need to push to beat her.”
I fall forward, bracing on my elbows on his chest with a sigh. “I know. And… I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”
He reaches up and brushes the hair off my face. “Same way you tackled the first trial. By doing the absolute best you can. I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. I talked to Master Tavyn yesterday before the ball. We talked about some training methods we’re designing just for you, to focus on the skills you’ll really need to beat her. She has her strengths, but so do you. And more importantly, she has her weaknesses as well. ”
I’m about to ask more, intrigued, when a loud banging has me sitting back up, Rylan following me, instantly alert.
“Rylan!” Mathis’s voice calls out, his fist rapping hard on the door across the hall from me.
Rylan sighs, his head falling back onto the bed. “One morning, that’s all I bloody ask for.” He gently lifts me off him and walks to the door. He throws it open, and a second later, Mathis is yanked into my room by the back of his shirt, and the door slammed closed.
“Wha—” the captain starts, then claps his mouth shut, taking in the scene. Rylan shirtless, me covered by my blanket, a tray of food on the bed. “Ah. Good morning, Your Highness. Milady.” His words sound playfully mocking, but he cocks his head to me with a look I can’t quite decipher. Is it… disappointment? “I’m sorry to… interrupt your… celebratory breakfast, but there’s been an attack on the armoury of our Southern border’s forces.” He turns his back to me to face Rylan. “The entire weapons supply is burning. There are reports that some saw—” He stops and clears his throat.
Rylan flicks his eyes to me and then back to his friend. “It’s okay, you can talk freely in front of Eirabella, she’ll be Aquilith soon enough and attending the security briefings herself,” Rylan says.
Mathis nods. “Some reports say they saw Kyros Valen on the scene. That he started the fire.”
Rylan doesn’t say anything for a moment, clearly thinking. “Any casualties?”
Mathis shakes his head. “Just assets at this point.”
“Gather the Essensari Council. I’ll meet quickly with the King’s Council to solidify our plans and meet everyone in the security hall in half an hour.”
Mathis nods and leaves without so much as another look at me .
I climb to the end of the bed as Rylan closes the door behind the guard. “Can I come with you?”
Rylan shakes his head. “Not this time. You need to concentrate on your training. This doesn’t need all hands on deck yet. We knew elevated attacks were coming from the rebels. We just have to move up some of our defences. I’ll come see you later, okay?”
Already I can feel the wall being erected, the one that rises between the Rylan I know, and the prince, the Celestaris. I hold out my arms, and he walks into them, wrapping his body around me, burying his face in my neck. And it feels like I can hold onto him for just another minute.
“I hate leaving you, even for just a short while,” he sighs.
After a few moments, I pull away. “Okay, go. The kingdom needs you. I’ll freshen up and go see Master Tavyn for my training. I won’t let you down.”
“You couldn’t,” he says, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “You’re going to win this trial, and when you do, you’ll be exactly where you’re meant to be. Right by my side.”
But even before he turns to leave, the cold, impenetrable mask slides back into place, and I wonder if, one day, he won’t be able to switch back.