The hall rushes back in, sound crashing over us like a wave as I suck in a breath that feels like my first.
“Please be upstanding for your new king and queen,” Merlin’s steady voice announces. “Daphne and Hart Stirling.”
“Stone-Stirling,” I correct.
He blinks and glances at Hart, who shrugs. “I don’t care. She’s mine, and I’m hers. Call it what you want.”
Merlin squints at me as if he’s a heartbeat away from tackling me to the ground and running off with the crown. He can have at it. It’s heavy and not something I shall be wearing on a regular basis. My neck already aches.
“Daphne Stone-Stirling, your new queen, and Hart Stirling, your new king.”
We spin to face the cheering crowd.
Gwyneth wipes a tear from her cheek and smiles. Next to her, Genie, Sir Sweep-A-Lot, and my capons are equally excited. Charming is also present but looks a bit moody about attending a double crowning that isn’t his own.
Hart’s arm wraps around my waist, and he swings me into his arms. He smirks as my boots appear from beneath my dress, but I don’t care. My attention is all for the knight with dirty promises in his eyes.
“Talk among yourselves. Dance, drink, eat, and rejoice,” he calls out.
“Isn’t that what we should be doing?” I ask.
“No, Daphne Stone-Stirling. Right now, all I want to know is why you smell like my brother and have kiss-swollen lips on your wedding day that weren’t given to you by your husband.”
Wait until he finds the damp panties…
Chapter Thirty Six
Hart
Becoming king was a necessity for our plans to end the Idols’ hold. I have no interest in it beyond that, and it pales in comparison to being the husband of the woman who stumbled into our path and brought us together. While we were close before, the fractures from our upbringing hung heavily between us. No one can erase the bad things we experienced, but by some miracle, Calamity healed our wounds and welcomed the darkness living inside us.
I kick the door closed behind us and set her on the floor, releasing her. She peers up at me with eyes bright with excitement and cheeks flushed a rosy pink. I don’t think I’llever tire of looking at her, not even when we’re old, with silver peppering our hair and wrinkles etched into our faces. She isn’t just it for me—she is everything. The thought should terrify me, but I find myself excited by the prospect instead.
I drop my jacket to the floor and tug my shirt over my head. She swallows and sweeps her gaze over my chest.
“I love the way you look at me,” I tell her.
“How do I look at you?” Her words come out breathy.
I stalk closer and clasp her hand against my chest. My heart thuds against her palm, strong and certain. “Like your heart beats for me.”
“Then my eyes speak the truth.”
“They tell the story of a thousand dreams,” I murmur, leaning my forehead against hers. “Of things you never thought possible. But the crown on my head is nothing compared to the way you rule me.” I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, brushing against the white bloom caught in the tresses.
She sucks in a breath. “Since the moment we met, I’ve been free-falling.”
“I will always catch you. Even if the world burns, even if the crowns shatter. I will be there at the end of your fall.” I kiss her slowly, deeply, like I’m sealing something far more dangerous than a vow. When I break away, my breath is no longer my own. “Because I am already irrevocably yours,” I say, quieter now, heavier. “And you should know that you are not alone in this. You have the power to undo me.”
“And yet,” she whispers, fingers tightening in my shirt, “it is I who comes apart in your arms.”
My lips skim her jaw. “And I,” I murmur against her skin, “am the man who would fall to his knees for you in every lifetime.”
After undoing the ribbons of her corset, I do just that, savoring every sharp intake of breath and every shiver. I revel inher soft moans, the needy way she grips my hair as I discover her sensitive spots. I rid her of her gown and boots, smiling at the fact that we can put her in a fancy gown but we still need sensible footwear.
She stands vulnerable before me, her heart on her sleeve for me to protect. By some miracle, even after everything she’s been through, she is still soft. The realm failed in its attempts to ruin her.
The white silk chemise, matching panties, and lace-top stockings might be my favorite look on her. Next to being naked, of course.
