Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“No. Forgive me for not warning you, but I knew it would be like this. It’s for my parents, and the palace, not for us.” He leans closer, and his sweet aroma wraps around me, finally soothing my racing, bleeding heart. “Do you know what was for us?”
I shake my head.
“That day on the beach. No one can take it from us. That’s why I planned it.”
He’s right, of course. The memories of that day will always exist in my mind. I can practically feel the sea salt in the air, the frigid water lapping against my feet, and Emyr peering up at me with sparkling eyes.
All for us. And we’ll have many more days like that once this is all over.
“Promise,” I whisper. “Promise me that you’ll never let them take our love.”
“I vow it.”
When he kisses me softly, his mouth lingering near mine, it feels as if it is for us, too. We’re marrying for the good of his people and this land I’ve come to love. Our love is for the people now, for the greater good, but there will be moments like this that belong only to us.
Moments like this.
I weave my fingers into his hair and hold him close, pressing my mouth to his with fervency. One more thing that can be just for us. We speak without words. He knows what I’m asking for and doesn’t make me say it aloud.
Other nights, he may tease and coax me into begging, but won’t now. His hand slips below my gown, opening my legs, and his body presses to mine.
“I love you,” he whispers, slipping two fingers into my cunt.
His thumb rolls over my clit, and a wave of pleasure washes through me—as if I am the ocean itself.
“I’m marrying you because I adore you.” He presses his face into my neck and bites down, marking me, never worried about who may see. “I never could have married someone else. Curse or no curse, I would have married you. You will be my queen.”
With each promised word, he thrusts and curls his fingers into me, and I bite my lip to hold back a whimper. The stone rail beside me holds my weight as he pushes me, so teasingly, closer to the edge.
And then his touch is gone, and I know why. We don’t have long for him to give me what I truly yearn for.
He pushes down his breeches just enough to free his cock. It springs up readily, already hard, and my arousal pulses between my thighs. The weight of his bulging length presses against my core, so teasing.
I need him, even if there’s more to be said. It can wait.
My fingers graze the side of his face, and I peer deeply into his eyes, searching for answers I’ve needed all along. “Even though I’m a halfling, though I’m the one who is meant to bring final ruin to your already cursed land? You still love me.”
“I love you not despite it, but because of it. I love you for all you are—and I don’t wish to make you doubt it.”
“You have never made me doubt it.” I press my forehead against his and hold his cock, guiding him through my wet folds, pressing his tip against my throbbing clit. “Can you make me feel it? Please, Emyr?”
“I will give you everything you ask for, My Queen.”
When he slides into me, giving me so much more than pleasure, he does as I ask. I am loved. He loves me.
I muffle my sounds of pleasure against his neck, and he whispers sweet words of reverence as he fills me with his seed. One moment. Just for us.
When we return to the ballroom, his arousal is spilling from me and sticking to my thighs; a reminder of him, even as the crowd separates us again.
EMYR
It’s a relief to return to my bedchamber at last. A greater relief was when Ophelia returned to the ballroom, dripping with my seed. No one knows, but she is mine, and most importantly, I am hers.
Nothing will come between our wedding. No curse. No fae. No mortal. Nothing.
She has her bedchamber now, something I fought my parents about.
They claimed she can’t stay with the maids, but I know how much Helena means to her.
It matters little to them; my complaints fell on ignorant ears, as they oft do.
My parents may never be pleased about me marrying a maid, but they’ll finally be silent when our marriage breaks this dreaded curse.
It doesn’t surprise me that sweet Ophelia will be the one to return our palace to the sun, regardless of what any prophecy says.
Ophelia lies in my bed, sparkling like the moon herself.
Soft candlelight flickers against her face, lighting up her hair and sweet expression.
Shadows dance across the walls, but they’re not so terrifying when she’s with me.
While her lids are shut, the smile on her face tells me she’s not yet asleep.
I run my fingers over the soft skin on her arms and her wings, watching the bumps that appear across her flesh.
“What are you doing?” she mumbles. “I’m fatigued. Must I retire to my bedchamber to get a proper night of sleep?”
“No.” I bury my face into the side of her neck and inhale. “Don’t go.”
“Did the party not drain you?”
“No. I’ve been doing this for most of my life.” I lift my head to find her vibrant irises staring back at me. “Did your family ever throw such parties?”
“A few, but they were not as extravagant as the one tonight, nor the others I’ve worked at here.
” She shifts onto her side, propping her head up on her hand.
“Near the end of my stay with my stepmother, I was no longer there as a guest. My stepmother had me attending to… well, the duties of a maid.”
“I’ll never understand that.”
“Nor will I. Perhaps she was bitter about the death of my father, but…”
“Taking it out on his child is wicked. If you had a child, I would love them as if they were my own.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She exhales in a puff and nods. “Her treatment of me is certainly not what my father would’ve wanted for me, or any other.”
“What sort of man was your father?” I scoot closer, draping one of my legs over her. “I would like to know more about the mortal who raised you.”
“My father was… kind, though the word is not enough to describe how warm he truly was. He was humorous. Father didn’t take life all too seriously, except when it came to caring for his home and family. He may have been a man with means, but he was unafraid of working hard.”
“He must be the one who taught you to be so dutiful.”
“I suppose he was. There was no one else to teach me.”
As frustrating as my parents are, I don’t wish for them to go anywhere. Ophelia lost both parents, was left with only an abusive stepmother, and my heart aches for her.
“Was that hard?” I murmur. “Growing up without a mother?”
“Not until I realized it was supposed to be. At first, you don’t know you want it, don’t know how to miss it, nor that you should miss it. I have only the faintest, sparkling memories of her. Perhaps they are not memories at all, but hope.”
“Ah.”
“Then you grow older,” she says. “And you realize others have something you don’t. You begin to compare and contrast. That is what leads you to realize something is missing in your life. My father did everything a mother would have. He taught me to cook and clean, repair a fence, and curl my hair.”
“A sage man. Not all know how to do their hair.”
“I know.” She twirls a strand of my hair around her fingers. “I suppose I was lucky to have him—and you. You have fantastic hair.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Would you like to share the secret to your glistening mane?”
“It wouldn’t be a secret then.” He flashes a brilliant smile. “But, if you are lucky, I will invite you along next time I do one of my oil treatments.”
“Does that mean I’ll join you in the bath soon?”
“Oh, I think it does.” I kiss her softly, and my eyes shut as our noses and lips brush. “Let us sleep, darling. Tomorrow will be a lighter day.”
“Do you promise?”
“I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”
Perhaps the promise is empty. The upcoming days will be busy with wedding planning, and my mother will nag us both until we’re ready to crumble. I won’t leave Ophelia to handle this world alone, not again.
That is how I will improve her days.