My breath caught in my throat, and I yanked my arm away.Shit. It—it was instinctual.
Aegir’s brow knitted. “Cordelia, I would never—”
“I would like to return to my room.”
His brows didn’t ease, and his nodding appeared reluctant. I could see the look of discontent taking over his face. But could he also see mine? My internal panic. I needed to get away because my lungs turned tight and I needed to be alone to calm my beating heart.
I just…needed to breathe.
My back hit the wooden door, and I took deep breaths, seizing back control of my body. Then I slumped next to the bath and splashed water on my face.
I stared at the bed for no longer than two seconds, then settled for the bedside carpet. My head spun the moment it touched the pillow, and I could still faintly hear the music. I wasn’t sure if it came from downstairs or if it was my mind replaying the songs I had earlier danced to. My mouth felt as dry as cotton, and I was about to get up to drink from the valve, but footsteps held me in place. Aegir opened the door.
“Here,” he said, handing me a tankard of water.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tucking the blanket beneath my underarms and sitting myself up.
Despite being hidden behind the bed frame, I was still aware of his presence. I knew he walked over to the other side of the bed and plopped his pillow on the carpet.
“You can take the bed, I’ll take the floor,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The prince shouldn’t sleep on the floor,” I countered softly.
“Well, since I’m prince, I command you to take the bed.”
I ignored his ‘command’ and turned onto my side, my hand tucked beneath my chin. From the gap beneath the elevated bed frame, I watched him lie down on the carpet and fold his arms behind his head. After a while, he too turned onto his side, now facing me.
Waves of flickering light from the street lanterns made their way through the window, allowing me to catch continuous and contrasting glimpses of him. The interplay of light and shadow danced across his face, giving it the look of undulating expressions. One moment, the gentle glow of light warmed his features, his eyes, soft and kind, his lips, full and tender, but in the next, as shadows replaced light—carving his features into harsher ones—his eyes turned piercing and intense, his jawline, strongly defined. I could not decide which looked more striking.
He reminded me of a plant that Sand Priestess Selmira had shown me in a book once, whose name I couldn’t recall. A marvellous carnivorous plant, its beauty having the sole purpose of trapping its naïve prey. Its appearance, smooth and inviting, its fragrance, an already broken promise of nectar. A plant only designed to tempt its prey, blinding it to its lethal truths. And as the poor insect lay inside what it was so attracted to, feasting on its nectar, the traitorous plant swiftly closed its jaw, trapping its prey until it consumed its every essence. Its fate long doomed, too late before it realised that it should have flown as far away from it as possible.
The difference between myself and the poor insect was that at least the insect was blind to the danger. The insect had the excuse of unawareness. Whereas I, on the other hand, did not have that same excuse. I knew his strength, I was aware of his power—I had already been given a little taste of its lethality. Anddespite being fully conscious of all that, my attempts to avoid his looks, to resist his touch, failed me every time. And tonight, the more he touched, the more I craved his nectar. Even just now, my every attempt to resist lustful thoughts crumbled, as I was staring at his eyes, at his lips, thinking that no other face existed in Lyrantheia that was more striking.
“Cordelia?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Good night,” he said flatly. I was fairly certain that he wanted to ask me something, but I did not push, in dread of what I might have to answer.
“Good night, Lord Hailin,” I said tenderly, before turning onto my other side, feeling his piercing gaze at my back.
Why washeall I could think of?
I touched my lips, in secret, wondering what his own would feel like if they were to replace my fingertips. Would our kiss be soft and tender, or would it be fervent and raw with desire?
Semuel excused me for the morning as I had to attend an ‘important’ servants’ meeting.
I yawned. It made no sense for me to be there. I was Semuel’s personal servant after all. I left the meeting prematurely and headed for the stable.
I shook my head at the empty paddock. They had not taken the horses out yet, so I sauntered towards the stable, thinking,What would those two do without me?
Little did I know that it was I who would end up without them.
The stable was oddly still. It was quiet, except for a few nickers here and there. Then, in the near-perfect silence, I heard something. It sounded like muffled breathing coming from the farthest stall.
Was someone there? Was someone injured?
I made small, silent steps towards the faint sounds and carefully peered over the half door. My eyes grew wide. Faern was slumped against the wall. Semuel was shirtless, straddling him. Semuel gripped Faern’s light brown hair while Faern’s hands pulled at Semuel’s back. Their faces were buried in each other’s.
