Chapter 29. The Last Night.
Warmth enveloped me whole when my eyes flew open, parting me from my sweet dreams. I closed them again, willing back the peace, yet the dreams did not find me, crashing the dreadful reality upon my mind.
I turned in Francis’ arms, willing my mind to remember this very moment in times of hardship.
Francis looked peaceful, deep in his slumber. His features softened; the crease in between his brows ceased.
My thumb journeyed across the scar on his jaw, which I still did not know the origin of. Rough skin met mine as the memories of last night invaded my mind, making my cheeks burst into flames.
The memories of his lips atop the most sensitive parts of me, driving me mad again and again until I had no choice but to give into the delightful bliss.
The memories of our blood mixing into one on our lips and flesh. The memories of my cries against his mouth, and my plea for the pleasure to never stop, his teeth piercing through my skin, and the euphoria drowning us in its paradise.
My thumb moved on to his lips that still carried drops of my blood, then down and down, reaching his bare chest underneath me.
I sighed, enjoying the last moments of peace as my eyes followed the small opening of the curtains in the corner. The sun took on an orange tint—a small line of light fell onto Francis’ bookshelf filled with dozens of books—as it slowly disappeared, allowing twilight to take its place.
The room grew darker, bringing the end closer.
I looked around the space, memorizing every detail of it were I to never return here—the place that brought me such peace—until my eyes landed on the side table that carried quill, ink, and dozens of pieces of parchment. At the very top lay a letter: my name curved into the center.
My heart beat faster when I glanced at Francis’ peaceful features, listening for his even breathing. My lips turned into a thin line when I moved carefully, so as to not wake him, my hand reaching for the parchment—
“Thief.” Francis’ hand caught my wrist, stopping it in place. A lazy smile spread on his lips as his eyes stayed closed.
“Go back to sleep, Francis,” I groaned, earning a soft chuckle in reply. A sigh of defeat escaped me before I faced him. “What’s in the letter Francis?” I demanded. “It has my name on it. I get to read it.”
“You aren’t the only Cordelia in this Kingdom.” Francis’ hold hardened when I made another attempt at reaching for the letter; his eyes opened, watching me struggle.
My cheeks warmed at my bare chest atop his as he held my wrist hostage in his grasp. “I know it’s for me.” I rolled my eyes.
Francis tsked before kissing the corner of my lips. “How arrogant...”
“Francis.” I glared into his eyes.
“Let go, or I burn it, and then you will never read it, love.” He smirked, moving my hand away.
I sighed in defeat. “I will assume it’s a love letter you wrote for me, and are now too embarrassed to show it.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged, moving to a seated position, taking me with him. “Perhaps not.”
I shook my head, curiosity eating me alive. “Will I ever get to read it?”
“Depends,” he purred; a familiar smirk decorated his face.
“Depends on what—” I started, yet he silenced me with a kiss as his lips fell upon mine.
The dried crimson crushed against mine. His teeth scraping against my lower lips, forcing a muffled moan out of me. My stomach fluttered as he licked the dried blood of my flesh, tracing a path down my neck.
“We need to get ready,” he rasped against my throat.
“Perhaps in a few minutes...” my voice turned hoarse.
“Mhm,” was all I got in reply when Francis moved lower, his mouth atop the center of my breast, his tongue toying with the sensitive spot.
A cry pushed past my lips—
A loud bang on the door froze us in place; Francis sighed, his eyes filling with a silent apology. “The sun has already set, lovebirds.” Roxanne slammed on the wood, her voice booming through the closed door. “We must be on our way.”
Francis pulled away, sighing. “We will be out in a moment,” he told the door.
“Hurry!” Roxanne shouted through the wall before her steps disappeared down the corridor.
“Sorry, love.” Francis planted a kiss on my forehead, reaching for the letter. “I will make it up to you.” He smirked, charging towards the other end of his room.
The doors to his bathing chambers closed as Francis disappeared behind them, the letter disappearing with him.
Roxanne and Simon stood outside of the stables, their horses saddled and ready when Francis and I made our way outside.
“Where is Florence and Ash?” I asked, pulling out my saddle.
“They left just now, you’ve missed them.” Roxanne glanced at the small opening in the woods—the pathway to Faris.
Claws wrapped around my throat as I nodded, setting the saddle down on Annabelle. At least I got to say my goodbyes to Florence at the ball.
“They will be fine.” Simon reached for Roxanne’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “The path to Faris is safe, and they are together,” he reassured.
“Yes,” Roxanne nodded, her throat bubbling.
“Here.” Simon met my gaze, unsheathing three daggers from his belt. “Ash worked all week to get them done. I hope you don’t mind that they took a bit of your metal to remold into arrow tips for Roxanne.”
Roxanne showed off her new tips, which sparkled golden under the moonlight, before putting them into the quiver with the rest of her arrows.
“Of course. ” I nodded at Simon. “And thank you.” I tucked one dagger into my belt, offering the other two daggers to my company.
“Those are for you, we have other weapons to fight with.” Francis took my daggers, sheathing one into my belt, another onto the belt on my boot.
“But these are Royal steel.” I argued when he knelt before me.
“They are yours.” Francis got to his feet, mounting his horse in a swift motion.
I glanced at Simon and Roxanne who were armed from head to toe. Two swords strapped to Simon’s belt, a bow in Roxanne’s hand, the quiver with dozens of arrows peaking from her back.
Royal steel or not, I was the only one incompetent with any kind of weaponry—I was the burden of this trip.
“Let’s be on our way, we cannot waste time,” Roxanne said, ordering her horse into the woods, away from the castle, away from Faris—towards the inevitable, towards the Royal palace filled with Wurdulacs.