Nicolas’ control shattered entirely, replaced by something feral. Our voices rose together in the dark, a litany of breaths and cries that were swallowed whole by the forest surrounding us.
Only when the first pale wisps of dawn crept across the sky did the magic finally, reluctantly release its hold. We collapsed into each other, limbs tangled, bodies trembling with exhaustion. The paint had smeared beyond recognition against our sweat-slicked skin.
The drums faded to nothing. I clung to Nicolas, breathing hard against the morning chill. His arms secured me, powerful and sure. Colors took the sky behind us, rose and gold and violet, but he watched only me, studied me with the same intensity he’d shown all night, as if memorizing every disheveled curl and scattered cluster of jewels.
“The sunrise pales,” he murmured into my hair. “I have a hundred suns glinting back at me, every one of them more precious.”
Chapter 34
Red carpets, redseats. Red bedcurtains swaying in the breeze.
Red walls, adorned with gold-framed portraits. One of them was Adelaide, looking over the room with uncharacteristic liveliness. Looking straight at me.
An arm draped over my stomach. I saw the wedding ring, the signet on the pinky, and traced up the veins of the arm to find Nicolas curled around me in nothing but a long set of braies. His breathing was slow. In this state, he was more comfortable than I’d ever seen him. Softer, even.
It was hard enough to believe I’d married a prince, let alone this one…but seeing him rest, fully trusting in my presence? That was a sight I’d happily adjust to.
I smiled, then turned my attention to the tapestry overhanging the bed, to the window that revealed only sky.
“Nicolas,” I whispered.
He stirred, grumbling quietly. His brows pinched before he opened his eyes, and it took a few blinks for him to orient himself.
Then he yawned, pulling himself a little closer. “You’re awake.”
“Yes. Where am I?”
“In our marriage room at Castle Altaigne,” Nicolas answered, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “A room for us to share, when we wish.”
I blinked. “And how did I come to be here?”
A low, sleepy chuckle escaped the prince. “You slept for several days after our union. When you were awake, you were hardly conscious, rising just long enough to eat something or relieve yourself. I don’t believe a woman has ever been so bold as to use the chamber pot right in frontof her husband like that.”
I slapped his hand away and stood up, fighting the curtains so that I could get out of bed. Nicolas snorted in amusement, propping himself on his wrist.
“The sorceresses cleaned us up and took us back to Altaigne.”
Florencehad cleaned us? I couldn’t believe it if I tried. Nor did I want to; I was sure we were quite the mess.
“I felt a similar exhaustion. Much of the last few days are a haze to me.”
“If only more of it were so.” I blushed, still flustered by the crude comment. I gawked at our new surroundings. There were more paintings and portraits on the other walls. “This must be the finest room in the palace. Though I’m not sure I appreciate your mother’s watchful gaze.”
“We can replace the artwork. Beyond cleaning, this room has been empty since I was in my youth.” Nicolas rolled to the edge of the bed, pointing. “My father watches us, too.”
Sure enough, there rested a portrait of King Elias IV. He barely resembled Nicolas, but he was a handsome figure. His easy smile carried Hadrian confidence. “Will we have our portraits made?”
“Yes; another chore for after the coronation,” Nicolas confirmed. His eyes danced over me. “Would you like a bath? I think a warm soak would help us both rub the grit from our eyes.”
“With you?” I asked. A gilded tub waited in a separate section of the apartment, partially walled-off from the main bedchamber. It was large enough to accommodate us both.
Before I could answer, the door opened without warning. In came Florence, her attention snapping up with alarm as she met my wide-eyed stare.
“Ah, you’re up,” she said.
“Yes,” Nicolas replied, standing from the bed. “Going forward, you’ll have to knock.”
Florence approached me, hand extended to my stomach. She touched me, feeling around for something, ignoring my protesting grumbles.
