CHAPTER FOUR
We called it an envoy, because that kept my hands from shaking. I’d already bitten my thumbnail down to the quick.
Darien had done as he’d said. It took a little longer than a year, but he’d managed to unite the Four Kingdoms. Carethia would be its name, in honor of his mother’s people, who otherwise would have been left to the shadows of history. He’d be its emperor, and he had invited me to visit its capital.
Everything south of the Edgelands was green – grasslands, trees, stalks of yellow flowers that were taller than the carriage we rode in.
Some towns along the way bore scars of recent fights – charred timbers or broken walls – but his soldiers were helping patch masonry, rethatch roofs.
And the Edgelands had seen its share of the emperor’s bounty.
The stronghold Darien had promised was underway, and its construction had brought new coin – and new energy – to the village.
The road dipped as it neared the Lowlands; what had once been a swamp became green plains topped by a line of red.
It was a fortified city of red stone, its central towers surrounded by a long wall with rounded crenellations.
White flowers cascaded over the wall, and the gatehouse was a tall octagon with a pointed roof and more pale blossoms.
“Lots of flowers,” Graene said and slid me a glance. I’d long ago told her of the demand I’d made of Darien – a demand we’d both assumed was complete folly until word of a new capital, a green and growing capital, had reached us.
“There’s a rumor,” the driver said conspiratorially, “that His Highness is in love. They say he’s trying to impress a faraway princess.”
Graene prodded me with her remarkably sharp elbow.
With a wave at the guards, we drove through the gatehouse and inside the city wall.
The growing city was a riot of color. Tall trees with spindly green leaves that spread like parasols gave shade to the builders putting up walls of new homes and shops.
Low vines with flowers shaped like horns and potted flowering trees sent heady smells into air loud with the hum of insects.
We rode to the central towers, where the driver drew the horses to a stop with a clucking of his tongue. “Ladies,” he said, “welcome to the City of Flowers.”
A uniformed soldier came toward us, nodded at the driver, then looked at us. “Please come with me.”
We followed him into the first tower, where arched walls were covered with murals and the air smelled of candles and the blooms of enormous red flowers in porcelain pots.
We were led down a vaulted hallway to an exterior door, outside into a courtyard with a gurgling stream and square garden bounded by compact hedges.
An enormous gray bird, legs tucked up beneath it, flapped gracefully above a shrine to the Terran gods, its stone facade covered in colorful streamers.
“He’s waiting for you on the pavilion,” the guard said, gesturing toward another structure of red stone.
“I’ll wait here,” Graene said with a knowing smile. “Be careful.”
I followed a stone path bounded by grasses and wildflowers to an octagonal pavilion that echoed the design of the gatehouse. Linen curtains fluttered beautifully in the breeze, and water trickled from a rocky stream that ran beside it.
He stepped into view, and my heart raced like I’d run the distance of the new nation.
His Royal Highness, the Emperor of Carethia, Darien Careth Pennraeden, wore a long golden coat over fitted trousers. His hair was pulled back at the temples, framing high cheekbones and golden eyes.
He stared at me for a moment as if I might be an Anima – a ghost, an illusion. Then he blinked that away. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
He strode toward me with the determination of a man at war, and wasted no time in claiming his prize. His hands found my cheeks, and then his mouth found mine, and he kissed me like a man who’d waited a year for the opportunity.
I’d thought of him more than I should have – his eyes, his mouth, the feel of his hand on mine.
I wondered if I’d imagined the magic between us, if I’d just been dazzled by his face or confused by the circumstances.
We’d shared such a short time together in the Edgelands, and I hadn’t seen him in a year.
But there was no confusion now, no dazzlement. Just… familiarity. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but there was no point in holding back now.
I fisted my hands in his coat, moved closer.
“I’ve thought about you every day since I left,” he murmured.
“I’ve thought about you, too.”
“Every day?”
“At least every fortnight.”
“Cheeky lass,” he said, and pulled back, gazed at me. “I’ve done as you asked. I’ve united the Four Kingdoms and built you a City of Flowers.”
I smiled at him. “I don’t think you did all of that because I asked. But yes, it seems you did. Every flower in the Four Kingdoms?”
“Every flower that I could find,” he said. “So you’ll marry me. Become my empress?”
I looked up at him, at those golden eyes that sparkled in the glittering sunlight. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
* * *
The wedding was a spectacle, held in the public square so everyone in the City of Flowers could witness our union and the formal joining of the Edgelands into Carethia.
White blossoms rained down on the open carriage as we made our way back to the palace, and a trail of crimson petals led to our new quarters inside it, where we’d begin our life together.
He’d worn his golden coat and burgundy cloak.
I’d worn a shimmering golden dress, my hair longer now and woven through with flowers.
And in the firelight of our new rooms, my husband the emperor, the man who’d brought peace to my father’s land and created a new city, carefully untied the laces of my bodice.
“You are exceptionally beautiful,” he said, voice reverent. “But best of all, you are finally mine.”
He pushed the dress off one shoulder, scattered kisses that had frissons of pleasure dancing across my skin. I unfastened his coat, and he stepped back only long enough to pull it off, let it drop to the floor. His linen shirt followed, revealing smooth bare skin over hard, ridged muscle.
He took my hand, pressed it against his abdomen. “Yours,” he said.
I smiled up at him. “For the taking?”
His eyes lit up with pleasure. “Absolutely.”
I added my other hand to his chest, slid both hands to his waist, then up across his shoulders again and into the waves of his hair.
I rose up to meet his mouth, pulling him toward me.
We devoured each other with gentle nips and the tangling of tongues, the kisses nearly mad from absence and distance and need.
But there was no more distance between us now.
The heat between us rose until he pulled back, panting, pushed back his hair in a motion that made bare muscles ripple. Then he held out his hand. I took it, and he led me to the wide canopied bed in the room filled with more flowers.
“More laces,” I said, and turned away from him, glanced back over my bare shoulder.
“My pleasure,” he said, and set about unfastening the back of the dress, swearing as he worked to pull loose the ribbons that held it together. “Trussed like game,” he murmured.
“Predator and prey.”
He snorted with amusement, and when the ties were loose enough, slipped it off my shoulders and down my waist. I stepped out of it, left it pooled on the floor, stood before him in a thin linen chemise.
“You’ve crossed a continent,” he said. “And still layers to go.”
I pulled it over my head, stood naked, feet cold on the stone floor but the rest of my body warm and needy.
His trousers joined the dress on the floor.
He was content to let me stare at him until I’d accepted what I was dealing with.
When I met his eyes again, my cheeks were pink and he looked extremely smug.
And when I crooked a finger at him, his smile widened with pleasure. “I am at your beck and call.”
He picked me up, tossed me into the mass of blankets and pillows on the bed carved for us, with twining flowers and the Two Sisters and boundaries of the new nation. I laughed and was still smiling when his body covered mine. The weight of him was wonderful. It was right.
His mouth found mine again, and his hands found my breasts, and my breath quickened.
I kissed him deeper, wrapped my legs around him.
And then we were moving together, hearts pounding and something beautiful began rising in my core.
Need gathered like a wave as we moved faster.
Fingers pressed into flesh, mouths met, and our move ments sped to a beautiful peak that had me arching back, breathing in the ecstasy of it all.
“Dahlia,” Darien said, his forehead dropping to mine. “My silver Dahlia.”
“Yours,” I said, and kissed him softly. “As you are mine. Eternally.”