Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. "And you are enough for me, my fierce love. But I still hope. I hope because I feel that there is someone out there who needs us as much as we might need them. I hope because giving up feels like accepting defeat. I hope because what else can I do?"
We stand there in the middle of the royal hall, holding each other as the afternoon sun paints golden rectangles across the floor. Outside these walls, the kingdom continues its daily patterns. Life goes on, with or without prophecies, with or without completed mating bonds.
But inside this moment, there is only us.
Zara shifts, and suddenly I am being swept up into her arms. I let out a surprised laugh as she carries me back to the bed, laying me down on the silk and cushions. She climbs onto the mattress beside me, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at me.
"What are you doing?" I ask, though I can sense her emotions through our bond. Desire. Need. The urge to connect physically, to reaffirm our partnership through touch and pleasure.
"I am reminding myself what I have rather than focusing on what I lack," she says, her free hand trailing down my arm, following the curve of my waist. "I am appreciating my beautiful wife who believes in prophecies and magic even when I struggle to hold onto faith."
I shiver beneath her touch, heat pooling low in my belly. "I like where this is going."
"I thought you might," she says with a slight smirk, that confident expression that makes her look simultaneously dangerous and devastatingly attractive.
Zara gently flips me onto my side so that my back presses against her front. I feel her warmth along every inch of my spine, the soft press of her breasts against my shoulder blades, and the strength in the arm that wraps around my waist.
Then her tongue drags up the side of my neck in one long, claiming stroke, and I cannot suppress the soft sound that escapes my throat. Her hand moves up to cup my breast through the thin silk of my gown, thumb brushing over my nipple in a way that makes me arch into her touch.
"Does my queen need to fuck me?" I ask, loving the way my breathy voice echoes through the hall. "Would that help calm you, my love?"
A low, rich vibrates against my ear. "I do not have my equipment for that right now, but I will watch you come undone on my fingers, my queen. Over and over and over again."
I smile, heat and anticipation curling through me. "I like the sound of that."
Kaia
Dawn has barely broken over the horizon when I find myself standing on the counter in the kitchen, stretching up on my toes to reach the top shelf where the head cook Alpha, Clarissa, keeps the little raspberry desserts that Solace loves so much. The kitchen is supposed to be empty at this hour, the staff not due to arrive for at least another twenty minutes to begin preparations for the morning meal. I figured I would have plenty of time to gather what I needed and slip back out unnoticed.
I should have known better.
"What are you doing?"
The voice startles me so badly that I spin around, my bare feet slipping on the smooth counter surface. My heart lurches into my throat as I feel myself falling backward, arms pinwheelinguselessly. Before I can hit the ground, strong hands catch me around the waist, steadying me as I gasp for breath and try to calm my racing pulse.
One of the kitchen staff, a young woman named Maren who has worked here since I was a child, holds me steady with a concerned expression. I offer her a sheepish smile as I stuff the raspberry desserts into the small bag hanging at my hip, then allow her to help me climb down from the counter with as much dignity as I can muster.
Which is not much, given that I have just been caught stealing food from the royal kitchens like a common thief.
Another maid standing near the preparation table, looks positively mortified at being caught, Victoria holding several different kinds of breads and cheeses, all wrapped carefully in cloth. I told her to grab anything that would stay fresh for at least three days, anything that was easily accessible without being the last item in storage.
The sound of footsteps makes us all freeze, the door to the kitchen swinging open, Clarissa sweeping in with the commanding presence of someone who has ruled this domain for decades. She takes one look at the scene before her, and then her expression shifts from surprise to exasperation in the span of a heartbeat.
She moves quickly to close the door behind her, glancing out into the corridor before shutting it firmly. "Princess, what are you doing? Anyone could have seen you!"
I resist the urge to point out that several people have, in fact, already seen me. Instead, I straighten my spine and try to project an air of authority that is somewhat undermined by the fact that I am barefoot and dressed in traveling clothes rather than royal finery. "I needed to pack. We are heading to the edge of Valoria to see off the warriors."
Clarissa’s eyes narrow. She crosses her arms over her chest, and I feel suddenly like I am ten years old again, caught sneaking sweetcakes before dinner. "Sweetheart, you have never once feigned interest in that particular duty. Why now? And why do you need all this food? It is half a day's trip at most, maybe less with good horses."
I manage what I hope is a convincing smile, though from the way her expression does not change, I suspect I am not fooling her in the slightest. Clarissa has known me since I was born. She was my mother's most trusted confidant in matters of the household, and after my mother's death, she became something of a second mother to me. She has caught Solace and me in more than one compromising position over the past year, though she has never pushed for explanations or threatened to reveal our relationship to anyone. Her discretion has been a gift I can never fully repay.
She sighs, the sound heavy with resignation and concern. "Please, at least tell me that you are taking your guard with you."
I nod quickly, relieved to be able to answer one question honestly. "Of course. Solace will be with me."
The head cook studies me for a long moment before holding out her hand expectantly. "How much time do I have?"
"Maybe twenty minutes?" I offer, wincing at how uncertain it sounds.
