69. CHAPTER 69 #2
His touch set her skin on fire. Lance savored her body.
She felt it in the meander of his hand along the curve of her back, up to the center of her shoulders, where he reached into her, deep into her, tender fingers grazing wounds that never healed.
It felt like being kissed for the first time.
Nothing like anything she’d ever experienced.
As if love had a physical form that tingled across her skin.
So good and so much.
Too much.
She dug her fingers into his tight shoulders, mouth working against his. Her hands wanted to drift down his back, his chest. His face and hands. Along bare skin unknown to her.
Miya didn’t expect this to feel so good.
His kiss, his embrace, his body.
His love.
But the better his kiss felt, the more the rest hurt. Pain crowded around her and closed in on her.
Lance pulled back, lips lingering against hers, until he opened space between them.
He knew, didn't he? He knew she needed to stop.
But it had been worth it.
God, her knees were weak. She didn’t think that really happened to people.
“You’re a lot better at that than I thought you’d be,” she said.
“I told you.”
She saw him differently as he held her, the gold of his soft brown eyes setting his skin aglow. Miya never gave him enough credit for anything.
Lance pulled his hands from her, the wanting in his eyes brighter than ever.
Fear dashed through her that he would ask for more from her.
And why wouldn’t he? They’d just kissed the hell out of each other.
Nothing about herself made sense to her, so she wouldn’t expect him to understand.
Still, she quietly begged him not to make her say it.
She needed this time alone, and until then, she’d never have a clue what she wanted.
But Lance gave that half-grin of his, a gloss over the love and hurt that hadn’t dimmed. “Good times, Miya. I’m going to nap on your creepy kid bed now.” Hand on his side, he walked away from her and eased himself down on the mattress.
“I love you too,” she breathed to herself, watching him lie there, his long legs stretched down to the very edge of the bed. Miya had no idea what to call this love, what it meant, but it was the kind only for him.
And it would always be only for him.
Robins hopped in the field, pecking at the ground. The wind chilled her. The birds knew something people may not otherwise know. Spring was here. Her mother had always brought her here to sneak flowers from the garden when they first bloomed.
“Don’t be greedy. One or two will do. Let the others live.”
A towering wall of bushes enclosed the private yard outside her room. Soon, they would come for her, and there’d be no turning back.
“You couldn’t look more like your mother.”
Miya turned at the voice, full gown swishing at her feet. Hakym stood at the bottom of the stairs. She released the banister and met him, clasping his arms as he kissed her cheek.
“I wish I could be more like her,” Miya said.
“You're much more like her than you know, my dear.”
“She was only a few years older than I am now when she died. How did she know how to do all this?”
Hakym extended his arm to her. Miya took it with her satin midnight blue gloves, dark against his white robe. They walked in the rows of red and yellow and purple. The late winter garden looked as beautiful as she remembered.
“I keep thinking it’s not too late to run,” Miya said.
“It’s certainly too late for that, child.” Hakym patted her hand. “It’s time. But if you want to try, we'll help.”
“You’ll be here? You and Lance?”
“We wouldn’t abandon you after all this, not when you need us the most. Now, you tell me when you feel ready. They said you can come at any time.”
Miya turned on her heel. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Slow down.” Hakym didn’t pick up the pace with her. “Deep breath.”
“Don’t tell me how to breathe, old man.”
He patted her hand again. “I’ll try to remember not to do that.”
“You aren’t going to start telling me everything I want to hear, are you?”
“I’m not sure I’m capable of that.”
“Good.” They made their way through her suite, out of the residential building, and met with advisers who led them to the courtyard.
When they walked up to the glass doors, Miya halted. People lined the courtyard, all adorned in beautiful dresses and suits. Mist sprayed from the stone fountain over the cottony white of the weeping cherry trees growing up along the center pathway.
“I would have liked it more private,” she said.
“I agree.” Hakym eyeballed an adviser.
“King Moress’s wishes, your highness. It’s a celebration.”
Miya noticed him then. He stood with his back to the door at the far end of the courtyard, watching the sun fall into a swirling pink sea. Her father.
Did he think this crowd would save him from everything that made Miya run in the first place?
Dropping Hakym’s arm, Miya opened the doors herself and walked past servants who rushed to offer their hand to her while she walked down the steps.
They all watched her, quiet, like the people in Archai had been.
Except these people were watching a woman rise from the dead rather than a powerful family being killed in the town square.
She was sure her brothers and sisters were there.
That her nieces and nephews were seeing her for the first time.
Miya wanted to care. She did care. But the enormity of a kingdom suffocated her as she flew down the cobbled courtyard path.
She only slowed when she caught Lance’s eyes trained on her.
Jaw slack like when he’d watched her play the violin.
The heat from him looking at her warmed her stomach.
And then Miya focused solely on her mission again, blocking the rest out. When she’d stomped close enough for her father to hear the loud clicking of her heels on the stone, he turned toward her.
Soft eyes met hers. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. It defied every image she’d seen of him for the past twelve years. Miya had forgotten that he’d always looked at her with love, even though he used her for a deal, just like Bale did with her mother.
Her arms went limp at her side.
“My…” He stifled a sob. His hair was white now. “My god… It’s really you.” Her father’s shoulders shook as he cried. “My little girl.” He walked toward her, staring at her. “Oh, my sweet girl, you look exactly like your mother.” He clutched his chest. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”
Miya opened her mouth to speak when he stumbled close and fell onto his knees. The king grabbed her ankles, trembling at her feet, weeping.
“Forgive me.” He clutched her tight. “Please, forgive me. I never wanted to make you leave. I never wanted to hurt you.”
He sobbed against her.
“Forgive me, my sweet child.”
Miya wrenched herself from his hands. He had so much he needed to do before he should even think about forgiveness. The streets of his kingdom were filthy, just like the inside of his palace. Did he even know what he apologized for? Did he admit it to himself?
He looked up at her. The low sun cast a wilted shadow of him before her. “If I had any idea you were alive…”
Miya ripped her gloves off and threw them at the king’s face. Gasps filled the air. “What are you sorry for? Tell me.”
He looked as horrified as the captain had been with the blade sticking out of his gut. And he didn't speak.
He'd never say in front of all these people that the deal he once made marked her before anyone else tattooed her finger.
He'd probably never say it to her, or to himself, because who did that to their daughter?
It didn't matter if his kingdom was on the line.
He could have found another way to appease and make deals.
She turned her back on him before seeing his reaction. Stares shifted as she strode down the path that she had just taken to her father.
She stood in the middle of the stone porch where she had an equal view of everyone gathered. Her father watched her from his hands and knees, his face a mask of torment. Perfect. He should suffer for the conditions he’d allowed his people to live in and for what he'd done to her.
Searching the eyes of the people adorned in enough jewels and fine clothes to feed their people for a year, she lifted her chin high, looking down on the king who knelt before her. No one dared look away.
Her voice rose above the wind and carried throughout the courtyard.
“As the king’s eldest child, I challenge my brother for the crown.”
Miya regarded her father with one last look before slamming the palace doors shut on the shouts erupting behind her.