“Just watch how we’ll attack them, though,” Ali muttered to Dianna, which Thorn only heard because the princess stood right behind her, the two sisters having offered to stand up for her.
Thorn wished it could have been Rose, which of course it couldn’t be, but her twin’s absence represented a layer of lies they could never be free of, almost as if the thorny rose barrier had chased Thorn from the cottage and still wove an invisible fence around her of things she couldn’t speak aloud.
“Are you all right?” Sebastien asked when he took her in his arms for their first dance together as husband and wife, prince and princess. His beautiful face crinkled with sincere concern.
“Yes. I’m so happy.”
“But?”
“I never thought I’d miss my cottage, but it’s so… loud here.”
He laughed. “Itisloud. But you are like my island of quiet peace. And I can be yours.”
“I love you,” she said, and he smiled, his genuine, from-the-soul smile.
“I love you most,” he answered.
That was enough for her. That was enough for both of them to live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales.
The morning after her wedding, Thorn awoke from her dreams—well-contained ones—of utter bliss. Sebastien lay curled around her, cupping her body protectively, both of them naked. The sheer joy of being skin to skin with him transcended even the mind-altering erotic pleasure he’d treated her to, not just once, but several times during the night. Feeling the sated lassitude of her body, she stretched, a delicious ache humming through her. And she would have this for the rest of her life.
She’d found her true self and true love with Sebastien. She’d endured Jada’s worst and freed herself from the cottage. And today she’d start her life as Sebastien’s wife and a full-fledged court oneiromancer.
“Mmm. Good morning, beautiful Lilythorn,” Sebastien murmured, pulling her against him and kissing her throat.
She purred at the lovely susurrus of kisses sending sensual pleasure through her. Framing his beloved face in her hands, she kissed him on the lips, even liking the faint mustiness of sleep on his breath. It was real. All of this, their bodies together, all a solid reality that belonged to her alone.
Parting her thighs, he stroked her sex, warm and wet for him. She lifted her hips, seeking more, dazzled by how he knew exactly how to touch her. “Soft as petals,” he murmured.
Giggling, charmed and delighted by her new husband—hers—Thorn boldly wrapped her hand around his rigid cock, savoring his gasp of response. “And this? Like a sword?”
“Some say that,” he answered, nibbling her earlobe and making her dizzy, even as he continued to stroke her, finding that pearl of pleasure and teasing it with sweet intensity so that she moved restlessly, losing her focus. “Maybe it’s a magic wand,” he suggested.
“There’s no such thing,” she protested on a laughing gasp.
He parted her thighs further, pressing his cock against her slick and wanting sheath. She arched as he slid into her, stretching her quivering tissues with exquisite fullness.
“See?” Sebastien said in a throaty voice. “Magic.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and gave herself over to the enchantment that he wove for them.
32
“You’re not wearing your jewelry,” Clotaire said to Rose, not bothering with a greeting or pretenses of fatherly affection.
“I’m not Rose anymore,” she returned flatly. She’d boxed up all the rose jewelry, ripping them from her gowns, which had provided a sense of satisfaction and separation. Clear of adornments of any sort, her hair neatly woven into a single braid down her back, as she’d taken to wearing it, she faced her father. Thorn and Sebastien had married the night before and Thorn had signed the contract.
“You are still Rose,” Clotaire said, though ungraciously, eyeing her as if he found her new look wanting. “You’ll need to get appropriately dressed to switch with Thorn. We’ll do it tomorrow night under cover of darkness. So we must leave for Castle Vega today.”
Rose chose not to dignify that with a reply.
“I asked you to meet so we can discuss our strategy for the switch—and what you should do next,” Clotaire finally said in the face of her nonresponse, gesturing to a chair and taking another as if he owned the place.
Bemused, willing to appear to go along, she sat. “So, you’re friendly with Crown Prince Rupert?”
Clotaire laid a finger along his nose and smiled conspiratorially. “It pays to have friends in high places.”
“I thought your aim is to place Sebastien on Soren’s throne.”
