Chapter 10 #2
Understanding settles in my chest. Politics, where words become weapons and smiles turn sinister, holds its own danger. It’s a battlefield where you can never truly know what the other party has planned. And Lark, for all her strength, has always hated the diplomatic side of governing.
She lifts a silver-handled hairbrush from the vanity. “Your Excellency, Tirene appreciates your gracious hospitality and looks forward to strengthening the bonds between our nations.”
I can’t watch this anymore.
Stepping fully into the room, I allow the door to close behind me with a soft click. “I’m sure the hairbrush is thrilled over your consideration of its trade concerns.”
Lark whirls, clutching the brush to her chest like a shield. Her face flushes crimson, and her eyes widen with mortification. “Sterling! How long have you—”
“Long enough.” I cross over to her, my footfalls heavy on the thick rugs.
“I was just…” She makes a vague gesture with the hairbrush before dropping her hand with a defeated sigh.
“Practicing being someone else?” I reach out and gently extract the hairbrush from her grip. When my fingers graze hers, a familiar jolt of awareness zips through me. “Someone you think you need to be?” I set the brush aside.
Her shoulders slump, the formal posture dissolving like frost under the afternoon sun. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who knows exactly who you are.” I draw her into my arms. She melts into me, pressing her forehead against my chest.
“We leave tomorrow.” Her exhale ruffles my shirt. “They’ll expect a queen who knows how to navigate diplomacy. If I’m going to be an effective ruler, I need to be that. I need to be better than what I am.”
The statement hangs between us, and unexpected anger courses through me. Not at her, but at the assholes who convinced her of such nonsense. “I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”
“And what’s that?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
“A queen who leads from the front, who inspires through action rather than empty words.” I slide my hands to her shoulders, admiring the latent strength in them.
“A warrior who trusts, a lover who incites, a protector of people and dragons. They’ll expect to meet Tirene’s queen.
The woman who burned the eyril field and destroyed the God of Nightmares.
Not some stiff imitation of what you think royalty should be. ”
Her gaze drops, and I don’t miss the shadows beneath her eyes, evidence of many fret-fueled nights. My heart aches at the sight.
She fists the fabric of my shirt, her warmth seeping through the material and into my skin. “What if they just think I’m some pampered noble turned queen?”
“If they think they’re going to get some stiff-backed, pampered princess, then they haven’t been paying attention to recent events.
” I lift her chin with gentle fingers. “You are exactly what the world needs, what this kingdom needs, what I need. There is not a single fucking thing I would change about you even if I could. What is it going to take for you to understand that?”
“Those are pretty words,” she steps back and traces my bottom lip with her thumb, “but I’ve always learned best by doing.”
The desire in her beautiful hazel eyes and the silkiness of her skin against mine nearly short-circuit my brain.
I catch her thumb between my lips, sucking before I release it. “Is that a fact?”
Her breath hitches, color saturating her ivory cheeks. “Yes.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to show you just how perfect you are.” I draw her toward the ornately carved bed, where the cool wood meets warm silk bedding.
When she follows without hesitation, my chest tightens in a familiar way. With the constant wonder that this extraordinary woman chooses me, again and again.
“Sterling.” The way she says my name pulses warmth through me that has nothing to do with her fire magic.
I cradle her face with both hands and rest my forehead against hers. “Gods, yes. You are precisely what I need.”
My lips meet hers in a kiss that starts soft but deepens with each heartbeat. I pour everything I cannot say into this kiss. My faith in her, my love, my unwavering belief in her strength.
“You always say the right thing.” Her hands find their way to my shoulders, her fingers digging in with an urgency that matches my own. “What did I do to deserve you?”
I relish the subtle heat that always emanates from her skin when her emotions run high, the precursor to her magic flaring. In response, the coolness of my own nature rises to meet it, creating that perfect balance of fire and ice between us, with neither overwhelming the other.
“It’s the other way around, Duchess.” My lips dance across hers. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life striving to be worthy of your love. Worshipping you. Showing you just how perfect every inch of you really is.”
“Mmm,” her eyes flutter shut, “every inch of me, huh? I can’t wait to learn what that entails.”
“It involves tasting, sucking, kissing, pleasuring. Making you come so hard the only thing you can remember is my name as you scream it.” My hands slide down her back, tracing the ridges where her wings emerge when she calls them forth. “But don’t let me bore you with my pretty words.”
“Smartass.” She shivers at my touch, arches closer, and opens those beautiful eyes.
The desire in them—no, the need—is undeniable. It mirrors my own.
“Careful.” I guide her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and we sink together onto the plush surface. “Wouldn’t want to have to punish you instead of worship you for that sassy mouth of yours.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Keep smarting off, and you’ll find out.” I bite the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to startle a yelp out of her.
Her silky dress rustles beneath my palms as I explore the familiar curves of her body. Every time, each touch feels like a revelation. I plant kisses along her jaw, down the elegant column of her throat, and linger at the pulse point where I can feel her heart racing.
“I need you just as you are. Not as some court-crafted version of a queen.”
“Need me, hmm?” Her fingers tangle in my hair, guiding my mouth back to hers. “So you’ve said. Why don’t you stop talking and show me?”
I smile against her lips. This is my Lark. Commanding even in vulnerability, fierce even in surrender. “Take my clothes off, and I will.”
We quickly undress each other until we’re once again nestled in the bed, my body covering hers.
“Look at me.” When her eyes meet mine, I capture her gaze.
“This is who you are. The woman I love. A warrior who loves without reservation, who fights despite fear, and who never backs down, even in the face of the gods. This is who Tirene needs. Not some practiced performer.” Swiveling my hips, I tease her.
I trail against her opening, holding back when she arches and tries to capture me.
“Sterling…” The desperate yearning in her raspy voice is all I could ever hope for.
“The way you just said my name,” I stop teasing and bury myself in her, “that’s how much I always need you.
She answers with a moan, and the sweet sound fuels my burning desire for her. The world narrows to just the two of us as we settle into a rhythm, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.
Time loses meaning in the charged atmosphere of our bedchamber. Each caress is both familiar and new, an affirmation that transcends words. I watch her every motion, every gasp, every time she bites her lip or twists her head and tangles her hair against the pillows.
My love. My queen. My warrior.
This woman is everything to me.
I feel the moment she lets go, surrendering not just to pleasure but to trust. Her fire magic flares, warming the air around us as she cries out my name. Skin hot against mine, she runs her nails down my shoulder to my back.
Her body trembles underneath me, moving with my thrusts. And as always, she doesn’t back down. Instead, she urges me on. Her knees clamp at my sides, body dancing upward to meet me as I follow her over the edge.
Limbs entwined, I keep her tucked to my chest while our breathing slows.
Her fingers trace idle patterns on my skin, following the lines of old battle scars. “Do you really think they’ll respect me more if I’m authentic?”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “I think they’ll fear you more. And in diplomacy, that’s often more valuable than respect.”
As Lark nudges closer to me, I make a silent vow.
I will never let her forget the incredible woman she truly is, even when the weight of the crown threatens to reshape her.