Chapter 22 #2
“Oh, Princess,” Angharad lamented, already testing out the new title on her tongue. “That won’t do at all. If you save everything for your wedding night, you’ll be overwhelmed.”
“Perhaps she could practice with the viscount,” Lady Maeve suggested. Her tone was innocuous, but the hush that fell over the chamber spelled a different story. A dozen girls leered my way. “Since he’s so handsome, and you’re good friends....”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, or that the seed it planted took so quickly.
I could almost see his reaction to such a request: the initial freeze, a crinkle in his eyes as he fought to suppress his laughter.
Maybe his gaze would darken like it had in the tavern. He’d make some awful joke, but then…
No. He’d refuse. If he didn’t laugh me off, he’d declare his loyalty to Nicolas and leave straight away.
A chill ran down my spine. The weight of Lady Diamond and Angharad shifted away from my sides. They watched me now; even Winnie’s glare said: you’d better not let that slide. But I liked Lady Maeve; she was kind, doe-eyed. This required a delicate touch.
“Perhaps I could practice with you, Lady Maeve. You’ve a big mouth and a loose tongue, should be perfect for kissing,” I said, and the women fell into fits of laughter.
It registered to the blonde that she had spoken out-of-turn, and she swiftly rose to bow in apology.
Still, I had to pull this by the roots before it worsened.
“As for the viscount, while he may be handsome, we are friends and nothing more. I would not dare to jeopardize his station as my guard with even a mention of such a scandal.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Lady Maeve said quickly, bowing again. “I am very sorry. I meant nothing by it, truly.”
I considered Angharad’s statement and figured there must be truth to it.
I wasn’t daft, and knew fully well what was supposed to happen on a wedding night.
Too many firsts, if I did not kiss him soon, and there remained a rift between myself and the prince that required swift remedy, as much as I disliked him.
I brushed my skirts down as I stood, then adjusted my hair. “I think I shall pay a visit to the prince.”
Admiring oohs ushered me on. Winnie took my arm, turning me away from the ladies. As we neared the exit, she spoke quietly. “My la—I mean, Your Highness—you must be careful. You know the strength of Prince Nicolas’ desire. Shall I remain on guard at the door?”
“Oh, please.” I scoffed, patting her hand. I took care to cover the tremble in my voice; I had every reason to fear what might come of this encounter. “He’s controlled himself thus far. I do not believe he would take me by force; there has been ample opportunity for that.”
In the corridor, Quinn lingered outside the Lord’s Chamber, reclined against the doorway and listening to some conversation within as he swirled a nearly-emptied chalice. His attention shifted to us.
“My lord,” Winnie greeted, “we’re walking.”
Quinn swallowed the rest of his drink, then passed the cup to a servant within the room. “Duty calls,” he said, following along.
There was no guardsman posted outside of Nicolas’ chamber. I sought him elsewhere, travelling up to the next floor. Sure enough, Sieur Eldridge and Guardsman Russel were both positioned outside of the prince’s solar.
I straightened, motioning for Winnie and Quinn to fall back; then I stood before the door, awaiting my announcement.
Prince Nicolas appeared in short order, surprised by my unexpected arrival. His smile was natural, partially open from an elated laugh.
“I wasn’t sure I heard them right,” he said, motioning for me to join him. The door clicked behind me as I went in. My eyes fell to the papers atop his desk.
Embarrassed by the negligible clutter, he hurried to clean up.
“Sorry. I’m tasked with writing my own invitations for our…” He paused, looking at me. “Our wedding.”
“It all feels a little more real now, doesn’t it?” I replied, taking a seat. The smell of cinnamon and cloves filled the air, drifting out from a steaming kettle.
Sensing my curiosity, Nicolas crossed the room and poured hot cider into two pewter cups. He delivered them back to the table with care, setting one before me. “It does. I had planned to check in on you, but I’m glad you came to me. After our last conversation…”
I chose to keep a barrier between myself and that memory. Nicolas, however, was obviously uncomfortable.
“I thought it better to give you time, though I have felt every minute of your absence.”
Realizing what he was saying, the prince turned his attention elsewhere. I smiled into my cup.
“It occurred to me, when I received the news, that I do not know you as well as I should,” I said, taking a sip and savoring the diluted sweetness of the mulled cider. “I would like to change that.”
Nicolas set his own cup down, using his pinky to soften the sound. He swallowed. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything, eventually,” I replied. “But perhaps we could start somewhere simple, like…what’s your favorite season?”
Nicolas relaxed into his chair. “Spring. Everything feels new, full of possibility, and it’s not so bloody cold.” He studied my face. “Yours?”
“Autumn. The colors, the harvest, the cooling air after summer’s brutal heat…though I suppose spring will hold a new meaning to me, now.” I took another sip, pausing to gather courage. My fingers drummed against the pewter cup.
“You’re fidgeting,” Nicolas observed, tilting his head. “That’s unlike you.”
I set the cup down, mirroring his move with the pinky. “I confess, I did not come here for mere conversation.”
The prince’s brow raised. “Oh?”
Gods, how to say it? My nails tapped a crescendo. “The court ladies were discussing…preparations. For marriage. They seemed quite shocked to learn that we’ve only ever…” I gestured vaguely, then forced myself to meet his eyes. “That you’ve only kissed my cheek.”
“Ah.”
His monosyllabic responses were killing me. I gathered myself, straightening my spine and channeling the same charade of confidence I had displayed in the Lady’s Chamber. “I thought perhaps we should remedy that. If you’re amenable.”
Nicolas hesitated. He cautiously stood, as if any sudden movement would scare me away. “Are you asking me to kiss you, Alana?”
“To teach me,” I corrected, feeling accomplished in the steadiness of my voice despite the way my heart raced. “You clearly have more experience in these matters, and I… I’d rather not be completely bewildered on our wedding night.”
I expected him to seize the moment, to unleash the wild beast he’d kept caged within himself.
Instead, the prince crossed over to the fireplace, pushing aside the two high-backed chairs.
He relocated a bearskin rug from elsewhere, topping it with cushions.
I struggled not to laugh at what was closely beginning to resemble a bird assembling a nest, composing myself by the time he turned to look at me.
He gestured for me to join him, taking a seat atop one of the pillows. My knees nearly gave out halfway to him, the nerves turning my blood to ice. At last I reached his arrangement and sat beside him, folding my legs beneath me.
Firelight danced across the prince’s features, giving his eyes an almost orange glow. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not!” I retorted, then looked down at my hands. Their quivering betrayed me.
“There’s no rush. We’ll go at your pace.” He shifted to face me fully, close enough that I could see the roots of closely-shaven hairs, but he still maintained a careful space between us. “Tell me what worries you.”
What didn’t worry me? I was afraid of him, truth be told, and what he’d done to me.
Rather, what I had done to me; he’d only pulled the covers from my pathetic sense of morality.
He’d encouraged me to kill Percy, to learn magic, but power always came with a cost. Maybe he was leveling the ground between us.
I collected my wits.
“I don’t know what to do. Where to put my hands, or how to breathe, or…”
“Breathe now,” he instructed calmly, demonstrating with a slow inhale.
I mirrored him, studying the easy rise and fall of his chest.
“As for your hands…” He placed his hands between us and cleared his throat. “Start here, if you like.”
He was surprisingly gentle.
I traced the lines of his palms, admiring the softness of his skin and the heat that greeted me. Callouses lined his fingers, small but present. I relaxed my hands into his, earning a smile as he traced a thumb over my knuckles.
“Would it help to know that you terrify me, too?” he asked.
I looked up. “I scare you?”
“The moment I heard your voice in the woods, something in me changed completely.” His eyes were distant with memory. “I’ve spent my whole life in control, Alana. I was the only person I could trust entirely, so I kept a leash on my emotions, my decisions. But then you came along…”
The prince lifted one of my hands to his chest. I felt his heartbeat, quick and strong beneath the surface.
“My heart is yours. I cannot reclaim it...and you have proven yourself worthy of my captivation. I’ve come to accept the effects, embrace them, but you are a new world to me. I often don’t know what to do with myself.”
I studied his face, finding no signs of his usual masks. Just naked honesty. I leaned forward, raising a hand to touch his cheek.
He froze as I closed the distance between us, my inexperience showing in the way I paused just short of contact, uncertain of the angle. His breath ghosted over my lips.
“Like this?” I whispered.
Nicolas tilted himself just slightly, raising a hand to remove my hair pins one by one. The bells hit the rug with muted ringing. At last he traced the contour of my jawline, shutting his eyes in surrender.
I swallowed and sealed the gap, my lips just barely touching his. His stubble tickled my upper lip, his nose slightly pressing into my cheek.