They dressed and left, and the door closed softly behind them, and the room was ours.
Aeldryc pulled me against him and arranged the blankets around us with the methodical care of a man who believed bedding was a system to be optimized. I was boneless and empty-headed and the deep ache in my body was the satisfied kind, the kind that came from being used the way I wanted by people who gave a damn. Three men’s cum was drying on my thighs and I couldn’t be bothered to clean up because Aeldryc’schest was warm and his heartbeat was steady and the silver at my throat had gone quiet and still.
“You kissed them. Both of them. You touched them. You’ve never done that before.”
His hand stilled on my back before resuming its slow strokes down my spine. “I wanted to.”
“Why tonight?”
A long pause. “Because you were beautiful. And they were kind. And I am—learning to want things I did not know I was allowed to want.”
I pressed my face into his neck and breathed him in and let that sentence settle into my bones.
But as the haze of pleasure cleared, a familiar coldness seeped in. Sky. The thought was a stone in my gut. Aeldryc’s hunt for him felt… relentless. More than just a favor. It was a mission, that same focused determination he brought to every military operation.
Why? The kindness of it, helping me find my friend, was a warm blanket. But underneath was something cold and sharp. Finding Sky meant finding the portal. Finding the portal meant a way back, which meant a way to send me back.
I looked at Aeldryc’s face in the dark. His eyes were closed. His breathing was slowing toward sleep.
Aeldryc looked younger when he slept, especially lately. When I’d first met him, he’d startled awake at every sound, a soldier who never truly left the battlefield. He never slept deeply, not even on the nights he’d worn me out until I could barely stay conscious. But lately, whatever stayed alert in him had started to let go, to truly rest, and the severity softened.
He was a man holding the person he…
I swallowed hard, tears threatening. What did I expect? What could I really ask of him? Every question that echoed in my mind was one I was afraid to voice.
I’d learned a long time ago that if you asked people the hard questions, you risked getting answers that unwound every fantasy you’d built in your head about how life should be. So I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek against his chest, and a frantic list started running through my head, like it always did when I feared the end. Were there things I could do to prove I belonged here? I could learn to ride a horse. I could crochet a thousand sweaters, one for every person in the palace. Hell, I could even learn to wear trousers if that was what it took.
Okay, maybe not the trousers, but perhaps I could learn to cook.
I fell asleep still making my list, with Aeldryc’s arm heavy around my waist and the silver warm and still against my skin.
Chapter 24
Aeldryc
“Trytomakeitinteresting,” I said, looking down at Pip as I led him through the east wing corridor toward the Queen’s private sitting room. Our footsteps were out of sync because his legs were much shorter than mine and he compensated by taking twice as many steps, which gave him the appearance of a small, determined terrier trotting alongside a wolfhound.
Pip stuck his tongue out at me. “Or, we could just tell the Queen there’s nothing to report and go back to your apartment to fuck more?”
“She will be unhappy that we still have intelligence about how twinks are being transported to Qoksmere. It’s best to distract her with interesting gossip.”
“Could just be because it’s named cock smear.” Pip snickered. “I mean, any twink would want to stop and check that out.”
“Focus. And enunciate the Q.”
Pip made a face at me. “Aeldryc the Ironstorm, Ruiner of fun.”
“Not what you were saying last night,” I muttered under my breath.
He laughed. “You have me there. You were exceptionally fun last night. But why do I have to be in this meeting? I was in the middle of something impressive in the sewing room.”
“The Queen requested your presence, which most likely means she is expecting to be entertained. If we bore her, she will find ways to entertain herself, and the Queen’s idea of self-entertainment typically involves decisions that generate significant paperwork for me.”
“So my job is to be fun. But how? I’m not sure I can dance more without being executed.”
“I don’t know. Tell her a story.”
Pip processed this. “I’ll tell her about the turnips.”
