The gentle insistence of a new day nudged me to open my eyes. Warmth was the first thing I became aware of. Not just the comforting heat from the hearth, but something softer, something more precious to me.
Elariya had rolled into me during the night. Her willowy body was curved against mine and her dainty hand had somehow found its way beneath my shirt. Her palm pressed flat against my chest, fingers splayed across my ribs where the red strands of her hair lay across my skin.
I held perfectly still, afraid that the slightest movement might wake her. And break this moment.
Mine.The thought settled in my chest with certainty.
Elariya was here with me.
Yesterday had all been real.
Now she was here.And she looked at peace.
For the first time since I'd known her, she looked completely at rest. No tension in her shoulders, no furrow between herbrows. Just peaceful sleep in my arms, as if this was always where she belonged.
I took the moment to just look at her, watch her in her deep slumber where she could escape the worries that burdened us.
Elariya was already asleep when I got back last night. She never even stirred when I slipped under the sheets next to her. I watched her then too, not wanting to waste the moment by sleeping. But exhaustion got the better of me.
Now duty was calling.
There were things to be done, responsibilities that couldn't wait for my personal desires. Time was of the essence and I couldn’t afford to fall behind.
Before I did anything, I needed to see Dreynthor.
He would know by now that I married Elariya. News traveled fast in the magical realm, especially news that involved Galaythia’s heir to the throne binding himself to a half-blood mage.
Dreynthor would be pissed as fuck, so I already knew the conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.
It was a shame we had to have a conversation at all. But it was the proper thing to do.
On the subject of propriety, though Elariya and I had already wed in the mortal realm, I still had to observe Fae custom. The last royal union in Galaythia had been my parents’. In these uncertain times, a public celebration meant stability. It gave the people hope, and something to believe in.
Moving with caution, I began the slow process of extricating myself from Elariya’s embrace. Her hand slipped from beneath my shirt as I shifted. I caught it gently, pressing it to the flat against the mattress.
Her breathing never changed. She was still in the deepest sleep.
I got lost watching her and it nearly undid my resolve to leave at all. But I forced myself to get up.
Minutes later, I stood clad in my usual black, wearing the face the world feared. I portaled away from my mage, and the moment I emerged in the hallway of my uncle’s estate, a familiar tug of unease pulled at my gut.
Voices drifted out of the dining room. One was Dreynthor’s the other belonged to one of his servants.
I made my way in.
The dining hall stretched before me. The familiar scent of breakfast—fresh bread, honeyed fruits, and strong coffee—should have been welcoming, but it felt more like walking into a battlefield.
Then again meeting Dreynthor anywhere always felt that way.
He sat at the head of the long table, a spread of food arranged before him that he was methodically working through. He wore a deep burgundy robe that hung open over loose sleeping clothes, suggesting he'd only recently risen from bed. His silver hair was still slightly mussed, though he'd made some attempt to smooth it back.
The same maiden who’d been around the other day stood next to him, pouring water into a glass.
Something about her told me she’d fallen prey to my uncle’s wandering eyes and hands. She was young and his type, and had a desperate look about her that said she’d do anything for the right price.
When she saw me, she immediately fell into a deep bow.
“Good morning, my Lord. May I serve you?” she asked.
