I lost myself in him. For the first time in perhaps my entire life, I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think about what waited for us on the other side of this mountain.
I justfelt. Truly, deeply, wildly. Unrestrained. Uncontrolled and imperfect, the way I never could be.
Hungry kisses turned to sweet caresses until we broke away panting. His fingers dug into the backs of my thighs hard enough to leave a mark.
As our breaths slowed, a heavy weight descended between us, thick and hot and suffocating.
“Thorne…” I whispered, my voice breaking at the end.
“Don’t say it, Empress. Please.”
I swallowed and rested my forehead against his as he held me. “I don’t…I don’t know how to do this.” The words were barely a whisper, the tears I’d forced back earlier now flowing freely and silently.
I’d let this man, this soft-hearted, idealistic, romantic man cloaked under the cocky mask of his youth worm his way into my heart. Him and his daughter both. I’d lied to myself for days that it was mere attraction, that it was far too quick to feel anything meaningful. My life was tied up in my responsibilities, and I could never be deterred by a handsome man and his pretty words.
But he was so much more than pretty words. He was the compassion of a father, the grief of a lover, the unconditional loyalty of a son and friend. A steady, immovable rock and a gentle summer’s breeze. Red-hot passion and lightning hidden behind cool blue eyes. There was so much I still didn’t know, so much I wanted to learn, so many layers I wanted to peel back. To see what made Thorne Reaux tick.
Perhaps in a different life, I could.
In this life, however, I was marrying another man. I was leaving this kingdom for my own. I would never be able to be with him.
It was selfish of me to want this time with him after everything I knew I had to do. Putting us in this position would just make it more painful when I left.
There was only one way this would end. And it wasn’t at his side.
Mustering every ounce of self-control I had, I pulled away from him until he lowered me to my feet.
I gazed up with my fingers still intertwined in his shirt. My teeth worried at my bottom lip, so many words threatening to burst to the surface. “If things were different, I?—”
“I know, Empress,” he murmured, wiping a tear with his thumb. “Me too.”
40
Thorne
Devastation often happened on beautiful days.
The day my Iris died was the most pleasant autumn day Mysthelm had seen in months. Bright sky, warm sun chased by a chilly breeze, the smell of changing leaves and fresh soil mixing with the crisp fall air. I’d been walking with three-year-old Marigold along the palm trees bordering our mansion when the servants rushed to us, bearing the news that Iris had suffered another heart attack.
One she never recovered from.
Mere months before that, we’d had the wettest spring season in recent history. Multiple floods in the North Territory, villages overrun with rainwater, and hardly a dry day in sight. Until one morning, we woke to birds chirping and the sun peeking through the never-ending clouds, bringing with it blooming gardens and a reprieve from the storms.
That was the day my father abandoned us.
He took three quarters of the gold we kept in our treasury and disappeared without a backward glance. He left no note, no warning, no explanation. Just a legacy to uphold and a new title added to my name.
I stared out the window of the carriage with Clarissa, taking in the sunlight over the rugged horizon of mountain peaks. The water had kept our clothes cool in the mild summer heat. It was the perfect day.
And as it so often went, its beauty was deceptive.
Across from me, Clarissa gave a little shiver and rubbed a hand over her bare forearms. I picked up the cloak I’d brought this morning, just in case, and leaned forward, undoing the clasp to tuck it around her shoulders. Her dark brown eyes caught mine as I pulled away, and I swear, it was as if something that had been locked inside me had burst free ever since our kiss. A raging, burning, ruinous desire I’d suppressed from the moment I met her. And for good reason. We both had more important things in our lives that needed our attention—her with her empire and marriage alliance, and me with raising my daughter and overseeing the North Territory.
The old Thorne would think nothing of instant attraction, of getting it out of our systems and going back to our normal lives. The old Thorne never felt much beyond the surface. Anything pleasurable or joyful was there for a moment and gone once I’d had my use for it.
My life was shades of black and white before Iris and Marigold. They taught me how to see beauty and love the way it should be—deep and enduring, not as a tool or distraction.
For four years now, the brightness had been slowly fading, with my daughter as the only beam of light in a graying world.
