The platter of pastries clanged against the marble floor right as Aramis pressed into me, becoming one, and climaxing simultaneously. Other servants tumbled into her and quickly retreated as Aramis’ command boomed, ordering no more disturbances until told. Servants had left food and wine in the antechamber since then.

  Aramis even dismissed the council until further notice. We became completely enthralled with one another, and nothing in all the realms had the strength to pull us away from exploring our connection.

  On the third day of our incessant lovemaking, Fifi banged on the door while I sat on Aramis’ leather sofa, legs spread apart as he feasted.

  “Everyone is irritated with you two. Especially you, Aramis!” The door muffled Fifi’s shouts. Ignoring her, Aramis delved his tongue further into me and lightly massaged my bundle of nerves with skilled fingers. My hands clutched the back of the couch as I rolled my head back in pure ecstasy. He summoned an exquisite delirium that birthed vivid, ethereal hues, whisking me away to a realm saturated with euphoria.

  The door opened, and I met Fifi’s sparkling chestnut eyes. I chortled as Aramis forced my eager hips to remain still, and I mouthed I’m sorry to my new friend.

  “There’s a lot to deal with, Aramis. You two can have your fuck-fest after you’re married,” Fifi scolded with crossed arms.

  Aramis pulled himself away from my centre, but not without a caress on my sensitive clit first. He sauntered to Fifi, stark naked, wiping my glistening sex from his mouth, and scowled. “Cousin, I love you, but I swear to Iros, I will rip your head from your shoulders if you enter this chamber again before I’m finished.”

  “But—” Fifi stopped her counter as Aramis gripped her throat, his hand still slick with my wetness.

  “Ugh, pig!” She marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

  Aramis placed me in positions I’d never experienced before, each more pleasurable than the last. We fucked on every surface between our adjoining rooms—beds, sofas, dressers, chairs, and the floor. We worshipped each other.

  The worshipping spilled onto the balcony by the fifth day, taking me over the stone rail. Leaning over me, he tugged my ash-blonde curls and whispered with a thirst, “This is all ours.”

  “Stoneshalt. The Fire Court. All of Niafell. And soon, the whole. Fucking. World.” He plunged into me with each word, building my excitement and desire to hold his dreams with mine.

  “My high queen,” he said in a promise-laden hush, gliding his thumb along my chin, filling me with his climax. As he finished, I glimpsed firefly-like specks dancing in the air—the keiju. The playful fairies, with wings like gossamer threads, flitted about like mischievous sparks in the growing night. Their gossiping laughter, like tinkling bells, reached my ears and my cheeks flushed a shade of pink, not realising they’d watched our salacious exchange.

  Our fanatic fucking eventually digressed into snuggles and the exchange of secrets. I shared things I’d refused to admit aloud to anyone before. Visions of harming my mother, feeling… something… for Oulixeus, attempts to fade into the Veil, and the looming threat stalking me. Aramis validated and accepted everything, and I felt my self-acceptance sprouting at last.

  On the sixth day, we decided to emerge from the lustful trance that had been consuming us for nearly a week. I rested on the bed enjoying a breakfast of fruit, cured meats and, my favourite,sourdough bread that exuded a warm, earthy aroma. Its tangy, chewy crust held a plethora of rustic flavours, evoking nostalgic memories of days spent at Cara’s and Grandmama cooking for us. Reaching for a cherry to refresh my mouth, Aramis growled as the scarlet fruit touched my lips.

  He pulled off the silk shirt he had just slipped into and threw it to the floor. And in a few long strides, Aramis reached my side, propping my hips on a pillow. He glided his hands along my spine, stopping on my lower back where his thumbs rubbed the indents laying there.

  “I spotted these delectable dimples on our very first night together. As you crawled into bed, your chemise lifted just enough for me to catch a glimpse,” he growled, taking hold of his erection and caressing the tip along the marks. My centre pulsated with anticipation, silently begging for him to enter. My fingers curled around the silky sheets and pressed my forehead into the mattress, my body begging for more.

  “So eager.” He teased me by gradually gliding the tip of his cock along my centre. “Will your pussy ever get enough of my cock spilling inside of you?”

  “No,” I admitted, pushing my hips back into him.

  “Patience, sweetheart.” Aramis caught me and finally sank in, slowly but so forcefully that my entire body shuddered. Muscles clenching and a cascade of irresistible bursts firing inside of me, pulling a heavy, savage groan from me.

  Inching into me, I naturally spread for his girth, and once fully inside, Aramis gave one forceful thrust, turning my low groan into a high-pitched shriek of bliss. Recognising neither of us would last long, he fell into a rough rhythm, satisfying both of our impatience for release. My inner walls tightened around him as he coaxed my orgasm.

  Aramis’ thrusts quickened as the velvety pillow stroked my belly and thighs, increasing the delectability. Our tattooed hands entwined, bringing each other closer, blurring my vision. As I moaned, the swirling flames and smoke spiralled, the physical manifestation of our bond. A bond and tether that seemed to grow stronger the longer our bodies remained joined.

  With ecstasy about to sweep me away, I pushed my hips back into his and Aramis roared, his convulsing cock pumping come into me. Finished, we collapsed into each other, bodies entangled and Aramis played with my hair as we caught our breath. “I’m never, and I mean never, going to get enough of you.”

  Despite the elation created from the past week, a thought dawned on me, my melancholy never fully retreating. “How old are you?”

  “Five hundred and thirty-four,” he announced, staring at the ceiling. My breath hitched, and I quickly swallowed to hide my shock. “You’re twenty-one, right?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, the gloom usurping my joy.

  Laying a light kiss on my head, Aramis asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not immortal,” I whispered, tracing the lines of his defined chest.

  “Neither am I,” he stated. “I’m Fae, but we eventually die.”

  My finger stopped, not being comforted by his words. “I’ll die a lot sooner than you.”

  “No. You won’t.” He squeezed me tight before wiggling out from under me, disappearing into his chamber. What could he do to prevent the inevitable?

  Aramis returned with pants and plucked his discarded shirt from the floor. “Fuck me,” he groaned, viewing my body stretched upon the pale mauve sheets. I stretched my arms above me, one leg bent with the other stretched out, and forced the depressed thoughts away.

  “Okay.” I laughed and purposefully added a slight arch to my back.

  “Tonight. Tonight, I want you in this position—this exact position. And I’m going to kiss you, starting with your toes and slide my tongue along your calves to your thighs, and then—” he paused and growled again as I reached to touch my already wet centre.

  “Mhm?”

  “Fuck.” He bit his lip as I opened my legs, allowing him a better view. Bucking my hips with a jolt of ecstasy, my fingers slipped inside of me.

  “And then what, Aramis?” I gasped, moving to my clit.

  “And then I’m going to come so hard I won’t be able to walk for weeks.” He joined me on the bed and inserted two fingers inside of me, gently massaging that tender spot deep within. He ravenously studied my expression as I came, his fingers pressing firmly on the pleasurable spot, unmoving as my muscles vibrated.

  When I finished, he stood and buttoned his shirt. “Seriously though, I need to do some work.”

  “Fine,” I whined and reached for my clothing. I actually missed Fifi and wanted to spend some time with her and the others. As I stepped into a pair of lace panties, Aramis coughed, catching my attention. He stared at the O branded into my flesh.

  “Did he do that to you?” Aramis nodded his chin at my leg.

  I’d felt grateful for Aramis ignoring the mark all week, but I still didn’t wish to speak of it, so I mumbled my dismissal as I dressed quickly. “Yup.”

  “Our healers will remove it.” Aramis leaned against the edge of the vanity, arms crossed as if attempting to read my mind, but misunderstanding me.

  “No. It serves as a reminder.” My voice grew bitter as I padded to the phoenix-carved armoire and retrieved a blue-sleeved dress, modest compared to the dresses Fifi chose.

  “A reminder of what?” Aramis’ tone matched mine, even more protective of me after the week we shared.

  “Men use women. We’re their pawns in their political games.” The armoire rocked from slamming the door. “You noticed it before. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I didn’t want him ruining our moment,” Aramis clarified, eyes darkening.

  “Go work. I’m going to find my… friends.” The foreign word fumbled on my tongue. Cara and Foster were my friends, but I regarded them more as family.

  “Elowyn.” I ignored him, searching for complimentary slippers on a shelf. “Elowyn, look at me.” His tone grew stern. I spotted a pair of copper velvet slippers to complement the dress.

  “What?” I snapped and turned to him, not meaning to sound so angry. He pushed off the vanity and strode to rescue my dimming mood, holding my soured face between his palms.

  “I love you. You are my equal. You will soon be my high queen. We’re Fated. The next time I see Prince Oulixeus, I will slice my blade straight through the centre of his skull, as I should have the night of our betrothal,” he vowed, but again, the words he meant to be comforting only pinched my gut, because he didn’t understand.

  “No,” I whispered. His brow arched. “Only a stab to the heart can kill a dragon.”

  Chapter 35

  Falling into old routines, I headed for the kitchen as Aramis caught up on politics—agreeing that we’d start researching ways to kill the bull monster soon. Servants with empty trays led me to the kitchen, where I planned to subtly ask for a contraceptive tea. I didn’t purchase any from the suspected witch vendor because I certainly didn’t expect to be having sex with anyone here.

  Bleached cabinets and wood-block countertops lined three walls and floor-to-ceiling windows covered the fourth. Steam from pots and pans swirled through the light pouring into the kitchen. The savoury aroma of roasted game birds floated through the room, rich and tantalising, as they sizzled on the open flame. Drying herbs, onions, and garlic lined the walls beneath the cabinets.

  Servants bustled about, weaving between each other with knives and hot dishes in a risky waltz. Some joined the dance from a back door, incorporating crates of wine and fresh produce. The head chef stood out, marching around in a crisp white apron, choreographing the dance.

  Smiling, I raised my chin to greet her, “Hi.”

  “What do you want?” She barked as she stopped to chop fresh sage with a large cleaver.

  “Umm, yes, I need tea.” Taken aback by her tone, my words faltered as the other kitchen staff stopped to watch our exchange.

  “Tea? You’re interrupting my staff for tea? Have your servant bring you tea,” she scolded. “Get back to work!” Instantly, the eavesdroppers returned to their duties.

  “Of course, but we asked them to avoid our chambers for a while.” I bit my lip, nervous of being chided again. “And it’s a… special kind of tea.” Rhyddean outlawed contraceptive teas and tonics, considering them too close to magic. Unaware of Fae laws, I chose discretion.

  The head chef stopped and narrowed her brows, taking me in, head to foot and back, resting a fist on her hip. Analysing me. She stood short, but her presence towered over me.

  “Oh, thank the gods! You’re free!” Fifi ran into the kitchen, embracing me. “Rune, Iris, and I have missed you. Well, maybe not Rune. He wasn’t impressed with losing.”

  The chef pointed her knife at my stomach. “Your cousin’s bride wishes to rid herself of a baby.”

  “Why, in Iros’ name, would you wish to do such a thing?” Fifi gaped at the chef’s proclamation, taking me by surprise.

  As I mustered the courage to defend myself, the chef interrupted with a grumble, “Take your dramatics elsewhere.”

  Fifi led me to the nearest courtyard, taking hold of my shoulders and forcing me to sit on a cool stone bench. “Okay, but Princess, you have the honour of bearing the first heir to a united nation. Isn’t that incredible?”

  “One day, yes. Maybe. Fifi, I want my tea,” I said firmly, my crinkled expression revealing my reluctance to engage in the conversation. The Fae appeared to openly embrace sexuality unlike the mortal court, and they probably used contraceptives, whether legal or not, as there were few children present.

  “It’s not your decision to make anymore.” Fifi’s words carried a casual tone as she plucked a lilac from the blooming shrub behind us. A heady cloud of floral sweetness burst forth, a stark contrast to the anger welling up within me.

  “It’s my body!” I countered, and unable to contain my frustration any longer, I snapped at her. “Fifi, what the fuck! I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.”

  “You know how difficult it is to have children. If you don’t want a child, you should have waited until Light Bearer’s cycle finished before laying with Aramis.” Fifi finished her argument with a curt nod, a firm hold on her beliefs, but my head cocked to the side as I absorbed her strange explanation.

  “Wait, what?” I paused, counting my inhales and exhales to calm the frustration. “Fifi, we’ve misinterpreted each other.”

  “How?” She frowned as I placed my hand on top of her freckled arm. The amber hue of her sheer panelled dress flattered her glowing olive skin.

  “I’m thinking Fae females and human women have different cycles,” I speculated. Fifi’s features widened before she fell into a loud yet elegant laugh. “What is the Light Bearer’s cycle?”

  Fifi held her manicured nails to cover her mouth as she finished laughing and explained the Light Bearer. A comet that orbited the skies for four months at unpredictable intervals. Females ovulated during its orbit and menstruated for four weeks once the comet left, and even then, fertility rates remained low.

  “Healers and priestesses believe it’s nature’s way to balance a race with such a long lifespan,” she added.

  “Well, mortal women ovulate every month,” I informed, recalling all Grandmama taught me about a woman’s body. Fifi gawked at the new information. “Most do. My period comes once a year, so I might not ovulate as frequently.”

  Shaking her head, and laughing again, Fifi pulled me from the bench. “Okay, let’s brew your tea. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

  As we returned to the kitchen, I forced Fifi to pause and squared our shoulders. “Elle. I don’t care what Aramis insisted. I insist you and Rune and Iris call me Elle or Elowyn.”

  My new friend beamed as she ordered a servant to brew the tea. The head chef scolded us for returning, so we hurried out the moment the brew reached my hands and the chef shook her giant knife in our direction. Full of glee, we compared the differences of female Fae and mortal women all the way to the gaming parlour.

  Sipping the bitter tea, Fifi divulged court gossip as we covertly observed others visiting the parlour—the conniving social climbers to avoid, who was engaged and married to who, the countless Fae embroiled in scandal, and the secretive liaisons among them, including her own past lovers. Keeping up was a formidable task.

  Iris waltzed in, wearing a plum purple dress matching her lilac hair, framing her delicate face with draping curls. Her cheeks had a faint, rosy stain, and upon spotting us on the sofa, she joined our company.

  “Thank the gods, normal people. I am so sick of this court—” Iris paused, her eyes locking onto the teacup in my lap. Her nose twitched, as if catching hints of the ingredients in my cup, and she gasped. “I know what that means. Tell me, what’s he like? I’ve heard so many rumours!”

  “Iris!” Fifi smacked our friend’s shoulder.

  “Ow!” Iris swatted away Fifi’s hand. “Well, how can I not be curious? He’s very handsome. And ruthless.” Fifi continued to frown at the purple-haired Fae. “Oh, leave the judgement to the prudish, ancient grannies. I know you love a domineering lover.”

  A myriad of thoughts emerged as I stared at the shiny white floor. Fifi rested a comforting hand on me. “She’s just a gossipy twit, Elle.”

  Fifi presumed me angry or jealous, but as I met their gazes, I burst into laughter, originating deep in my belly, contracting my abdomen until the muscles grew sore. The two watched me quizzically.

  “I’m sorry. This is just… just…” Bizarre! Ridiculous! I felt like I’d stumbled into Orla’s world. “Fascinating.”

  “The mortal court must be quite dreary,” Iris mumbled, tucking a perfectly curled hair strand behind a pierced ear.

  Suddenly, my shoulders twitched as the parlour door banged open and Fifi and Iris swivelled their heads in my direction. “Are you alright?” they asked in unison.

  Faking a smile, I nodded. “Yeah.” My attention shifted to the Fae servant approaching us, a young female carrying a silver platter. She gracefully bent at the waist, aligning the platter with my line of sight.

  “Your Highness,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

  A parchment letter, roughly folded as if in a rush, lay upon the glinting plate. I swallowed and reached for the letter, a bad feeling curling in my gut.

  “Thank you,” I dismissed the servant, staring at the note in my trembling hand.

  “Oh! Can you bring us some sweets? Whatever the kitchen has!” Iris shouted after the young female, leaving to attend to other tasks.

  As Fifi and Iris bickered about the courts and weather, the parchment before me seemed to mock my apprehension. Could it be a message from Oulixeus, already aware of Aramis and me finding solace in each other’s company? Or perhaps from my father, growing impatient? Though, the wax seal bore neither of their distinctive marks. My father boasted a regal, dark green hue adorned with the royal bear crest, while Oulixeus favoured a glistening golden wax bearing a shield emblem. Unless they sought to remain inconspicuous…

 

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