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It reminded me of the elysian nightshades my mother had warned me about, a flower so large and intoxicating that it lured small creatures into its mouth to be devoured. I had never been sure if the nightshades were real or if my mother invented them to keep me away from the deeper forest. She told many stories of dangerous things in the dark places of the world, all of which I believed as a child and discarded as I grew. The nightshade stayed with me, however, along with the idea of a beauty that meant to consume you.
Until I met Drystan, no scent had produced the same reaction. The recognition was its own small alarm. I let it ring and ignored it.
He positioned himself between me and the horses. I kept his gaze and held my ground, our bodies brushing together as he finished tying the mare’s lead to a low branch. His chest, where it pressed against my shoulder, felt as solid as the carved ebony statue of Kahantsu, the fertility god whose form village artisans rendered at the temple entrance. He was all defined muscle and composed strength. As a girl coming of age, I had stared at the statue, wondering what a man would look like who did not spend his life bent under the weight of harvest. The village had attractive boys, but their talk at the flower and rain festivals never wandered past their oxen, their tools, and the coming weather.
Calling Drystan a contrast was an understatement. He incorporated so many facets of manhood into a single presence, woven like a complex fabric where the threads ran together. The surface could seem light and almost translucent one moment, then impenetrable and dark the next.
I pressed myself slightly closer against him than necessary, then stepped away to look back over my shoulder.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for being so generous with your help to a humble maiden.”
He bowed his head, the dark fall of his hair sliding across his shoulders as he looked up through the strands. His smile produced the slightest hint of dimples, a genuine expression from a man raised among a court whose only job was to agree with him.
“I am here to serve my dearest Lady Liora,” he said. “But might this humble maiden enlighten me as to the purpose of this ride into a forbidden part of the grove?”
I felt warmth touch my cheeks under his gaze, which had begun to drift downward. The wind had undone the upper buttons of my dress, exposing more than I intended. My shape was familiar to me, and I knew what its sight had done to him over the past weeks, which was precisely why I had been careful never to let him see me like this before. I had chosen my dresses with care since I was fourteen, never once being careless.
I let him look a moment longer, then turned and walked toward the far end of the clearing.
* * *
“Is that so,” I said over my shoulder. “Then I am humbled by your attention. If Your Majesty allows it, I would like to show him a local sight. Stories say it was summoned by the fey of Felterow as a playground for the elders when they bonded the blossoming fae.”
I had no idea if any of it was true. My mother told me the story when I was small, and I had used it many times since, embroidering details as the moment required. The grove had been many things in my tellings.
“Is that so,” Drystan said, following close behind. His voice reached me easily. “What an interesting story. So this is a place of courtship.”
“Why don’t we find out?”
I reached the far edge of the hollow where a fallen tree leaned against the rock face, its trunk bridging the lower lip up to the cliff above. Thick green lianas dangled from the branches overhead, sturdy enough to hold my weight. I had used them when I was thirteen, though not since.
I stripped off my shoes, the soft, worn pair my mother had loved, and set them beside the trunk. Grasping the lowest liana, I began to climb, looking down at him over my shoulder.
His expression was unreadable.
Climbing a vine in a dress was not proper behaviour, particularly with an emperor watching. With every shift of my weight, the fabric rode higher, showing more of my legs than I had ever revealed to him. The dress was not made for this, nor was I, but I took satisfaction in knowing what the sight was doing to him. The total silence below confirmed it. He had not moved.
“Young lady,” he called up, laughter lacing his formal tone, “seems to have forgotten that I am not dressed for extensive climbing.”
“Such a shame.” I kept my eyes upward, near the top. “Then Your Majesty will either have to find a way up, or it will remain a mystery whether there is an azure pool of warm spring water waiting on the other side. A pool a maiden might enjoy bathing in, leaving her clothes on the bank.”
I pulled myself over the lip of the cliff and stood in the upper clearing. The waterfall dropped below me now, three long ribbons of water falling into the silver pool. The hot spring was real, even if the story about the fey was not, making both equally true in the moment.
A quiet curse reached me from the foot of the tree where I left my shoes, followed by the sound of him beginning his ascent.
He would have made it up easily, but a sharp creak from the liana indicated the vines would not tolerate the weight of a man built largely of muscle.
“I heard the old fae hid a tunnel somewhere,” I called down, “so the elders could attend the bonding rituals without ruining their ceremonial robes. Perhaps Your Majesty might find it.”
His laugh drifted up from below, the elegant, surprised sound I had earned only a few times in our weeks together. Each instance felt like a small victory.
“If that is the case,” he called back, “let me see if I can remember my excursions during my academy years to the ruins of Atavarn, and the little I learned about archaeological exploration.”
I looked down. His gaze was on me without apology, a bright grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked upward.
“Your Majesty might want to hurry,” I said, “so as not to miss anything important on the other side.”
“Of course. The royal archaeologist is on his way.” He bowed with mock solemnity to the empty air beneath me. “Let us see if fate will reunite us.”
