Still in the distance, the estate was gorgeous. Shimmering slate caught the midday sun in brilliant reflections, almost ethereal. Pale stone—bright and welcoming—made the whole of it feel like something out of a story. The central building seemed to glow, a true beacon in a place only those meant to find it ever would. Outbuildings are nestled around it: stables, an armory, quarters for the guard. Bracken and the other horses were led that way as Vale opened the door to the stately home, allowing me to be the firstto enter.
Barring the early concern over my hand, he has been transformed by an incredible enthusiasm since we arrived. Ace and Soria mutter something about seeing themselves to their rooms as Vale takes me by the hand. I worry I’ll miss savoring the details; he’s so eager to show me the entirety of the manor. We hurry past an office and a sitting room, the intricate details of carved wood and painted walls all but a blur—until I finally tug at the hand leading mine and bring him to a stop.
His eyes are practically glowing with joy when he turns to face me. A tiny flash of concern crosses his brow before he sees the way I’m smiling back at him.
“Vale!” I chastise with laughter. “What is the rush? Please give me a moment to take it all in.”
I bend my knees and draw my shoulders in, a small tug returning him into the center of the room—and into me. He lets out a deep exhale, and I see everything in him finally begin to slow.
“I was getting carried away, wasn’t I?” The low rumble of his laugh mingles with the warm, lazy sunbeams shining through the many windows of the parlor where we now stand.
“A bit,” I chuckle as he steps closer, closing the gap that had stretched between us while I struggled to keep up with his eager pace. Resting my hands on his chest, I look at him—so full of love, of life—before taking in the room around us.
A carved wooden mantle crowns an impressive stone hearth. From the array of objects arranged atop it to the lush weave of each piece of furniture, ornate embellishments abound. Somehow, it isn’t overwhelming. Each feels like a declaration of love. The care that went into crafting them… it’s staggering.
I take a moment and think not just of the hands that shaped this place, but of the sheer vastness of memories a room like this must hold. The thought takes my breath away.
When I glance back up at Vale, I see he’s been watching me intently the entire time.
“You’re right,” he sighs, heavy and content. “What was I thinking, rushing you through when there is so much to witness?”
I bite my lip, shaking my head as I press at his chest—not that it moves him in the slightest. “I want to see this place,” I say with a slightring of desperation, knowing full well what he meant when he spoke while looking at me.
“And I want to see the way you look when you do,” he replies, mocking me only slightly as his grip tightens around my waist.
I feign struggling to get away from him—until his hand lifts, cradling the back of my neck. The joke falls away with the way his eyes catch mine. Heat flares between our bodies, making me forget whatever game we’d been playing. His fingers tangle in my hair, giving a slight tug as he guides the kiss he presses to my lips—deep, unhurried, claiming.
“If that is how you intend to settle any arguments between us…” My words come out breathless, my lips hovering just beyond his. I can’t recall how I meant to finish the thought as he nips at my bottom lip—a gentle bite that makes my knees weak.
“Who said we were arguing?” he murmurs, the heat behind his words making it very clear he knows the power he has over me.
“How many rooms are in this house?”
Ace. Always one to shatter a moment—for better and worse.
Flushed, I turn away a moment after daring a glance at him, certain my cheeks are still pink from the heat of Vale’s attention.
“All these rooms,” Ace continues, clearly delighted by the way he’s broken us apart with his presence, “surely you two can find somewhere better for… all that.” He gestures vaguely at us, still struggling to compose ourselves.
“Shouldn’t you be tending to your own room?” Vale growls in his direction.
“Oh, come now, cousin. It only takes a moment to drop a bag. After a ride like that, I want to kick off my shoes, relax, and see what the cook has prepared.” He plops back on a couch and uses his feet to flick off one boot, then the other, lounging like a figure out of some tragic painting.
“Do you think we can commence this tour at a more reasonable pace?” I ask Vale, choosing to ignore our resident jester. Giving someone like Ace attention only spurs him on.
With that, we are on our way.
The manor is so sprawling I’m quite certain I’ll remember only afraction of it as we finally step into the chambers prepared for us. The chambers meant for the king… and his queen.
Despite all the might of the High Hold, something about this room feels even more stately. It’s larger than our newly shared chambers back at the palace, yet it feels more intimate. The ceiling does not tower as high, nor do the posts of the bed. Dark blue linens complement the walls, their subtle patterns only noticeable when standing close.
I see a few of the trunks Soria helped prepare, but also the efforts of those who have been working here ahead of us. My brush and comb are laid neatly at the vanity, gowns already hanging up, even a collection of books arranged beside the window at a spot perfectly meant for reading or journaling.
Despite only just arriving, it already feels like home.
“I can see why you love it here,” I say, turning to Vale, who has sat down on a bench at the foot of the bed, removing his boots one at a time and gently massaging his calves.
He stands and draws me into his arms. “I hope you love it just as much.”
