Chapter 6 #3
There was a time in the Retterheld when we used his room by the kitchens as our own little sanctuary away from the trials and the rest of the world, but since then, time alone together has only been found in brief, snatched moments.
Those few rough tumbles in the forest were still more than adequate, but I already know they’re nothing compared to what we can experience with time, a bed, and a raging fire.
I find myself struggling to swallow as I long to lick him from head to toe.
‘That’s one interesting look in your eye right now,’ Kyor says, the slightest smirk rising on his lips.
Slowly, I step towards him and place my hand at the centre of his chest, trailing it down, following the lines of water to where they lead.
The urge to lick away those droplets is too overwhelming, and heat pools between my thighs as the urge to pull him into me grows so taut that if he gets even an inch closer, I know my restraint will snap.
He steps closer.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I can’t help but lick my lips in anticipation.
Gods.
Kyor’s lips twitch. ‘Thinking very loudly there, Thorn.’
‘Then silence the thoughts.’
The smile that curves across his face is pure male satisfaction. ‘Yeah?’
We lunge at each other, and my fingers curl into his damp hair as I drag him down to my lips. The kiss is fucking feral.
Kyor groans against my mouth as his hands find my hips, pulling me flush against him. The coolness of his skin is a sharp contrast to the heat burning through me.
Gods, I need this. Need to forget the madness of royal titles and magical Veils.
His tongue brushes mine and a shiver races through me. One of his hands slides up my spine and tangles in my hair as the kiss deepens, stealing every coherent thought from my head.
Kyor breaks the kiss just long enough to press his forehead to mine.
‘Thorn—’ he groans.
I catch his lower lip between my teeth.
His answering growl sends another rush of heat through me.
He reaches for me again … just as someone knocks at our door.
Fuck!
‘His Majesty King Magnus is ready for you, Princess.’ It’s Ylva the housekeeper’s voice, and her utterance of my new title causes a now-familiar grimace to form on my face.
‘Just Rose,’ I call back breathlessly. ‘And thank you. We’re just getting ready.’
‘I’ll be out here when you are ready to leave.’
It’s with great effort that I rip myself away from Kyor.
‘We’ll continue this later,’ he promises huskily as he begins to pull on clothes.
I hasten to the wardrobe and try to choose a dress. A green one catches my eye, and my thoughts slide to my sister, who looks divine in green.
How will Kay react to the news that we are royalty? Just thinking such a thing makes my head spin.
Were it Morathkian royalty, I have no doubt Kay would revel in the knowledge.
It would be all her dreams come true. After all, she was willing to marry Jonas’s elderly father, Artur, to secure her place at court.
Yes, being a lost Morathkian princess would be more than acceptable in her opinion.
But Issen royalty? She was devastated enough to learn of our Issen heritage.
Would this knowledge lessen the sting or only worsen it?
‘We can be a bit late for the banquet, can’t we?’ I ask as I hastily step into the dress.
Before he can reply, there’s another knock on the door.
‘Princess— Rose.’ It’s Ylva again. ‘Just so you’re aware, the other guests have started arriving.’
Damn.
‘We’re just coming,’ I call back as Kyor begins to help me fasten the dress.
‘Don’t worry,’ Kyor purrs at me. ‘You will be later, and the anticipation will just make it even better.’
My pulse skips traitorously. ‘It’s a good thing I like my princes arrogant,’ I tease, though the words come out throatier than I’d like.
By the time we’re out in the corridor, the others are already gathered.
The men are in fresh shirts, and Caz is in a woollen dress similar to mine. For a split second, I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her in one, but then the memory strikes. The ball. The ball where Llin died. Caz was wearing a dress then.
Forcing the memory down, I smile.
‘You look beautiful,’ I say to her, then turn to Thessa and gape.
The Sanning is wearing a dress made entirely of fur – mostly black but with a reddish fringe that is almost the same colour as her fox stole. The outfit suits her, setting off the white of her hair and the dazzle of her citrine eyes beautifully.
‘Wow, Thessa, you look amazing.’
‘Thank you, The Rose.’ Thessa gives me a shy smile. ‘I did not want to come, but Caroline insisted.’
‘You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,’ Caz replies to the Sanning. ‘I know you wish for some time alone, but I think the king would appreciate having us all there.’
Only then do I notice just how red-rimmed Thessa’s eyes are. It’s hardly a surprise. It’s been only a matter of days since we buried her fellow Sanning, and she can barely have begun to properly process the grief of Stide’s loss.
‘The dining hall is this way,’ Ylva informs us, interrupting our chatter. ‘If you would like to follow me?’
As much as it sounds like a question, I’m fully aware it isn’t.
I’m a princess of the Issen people now.
It’s time I met my court.