Page 64
My sister had been so angry that day, when she’d realized what I had done. When Father banished me, and my husband, naming Cettina queen, it instilled in me a resolve I had not known was possible. Despite her claims to the contrary, my sister would always have made a better queen. She was born for the role, while I prefer the shadows.
Like Aiken.
Even still, she had been furious. She’d begged me so often, especially after Father died, to return to court. To allow her to dissolve my marriage. But I’d known I could do more good as Whitley’s wife than I could at Breywood, and I had been right.
A quick knock was followed by my door being opened.
“Did I not tell you to lock it behind me?” Aiken asks, entering the small chamber.
“I find my tolerance for following orders has greatly diminished as of late.”
Aiken’s eyes narrow as he closes, and locks, the door behind him. My heartbeat races as he moves toward me.
“I would ask next time then please do not leave your door unlocked.” He reaches me. “Princess.” His hand slips behind the nape of my neck. “I will never become accustomed to the idea that I am touching”—his thumb circles, caressing my skin until finally stopping, his fingers tangling in my hair—“the Princess of Edingham.”
Pulling my head to his, Aiken kisses me.
And I kiss back. Hungry for him. Terrified at how much I’ve anticipated this moment since I woke.
His lips glide across my own in perfect rhythm until he groans, a sound I’m coming to enjoy, and pulls away.
“And I will never become accustomed to the idea that I am kissing an Elderman,” I say, glancing down at his robes. “It feels quite scandalous, if I am speaking honestly.”
“As it should.” With a sigh, he releases his grip on my neck, takes a deep breath, and steps back. “My intention was to bring you belowstairs to break your fast. Not to accost you the moment I walked through the door.”
Quite truthfully, I say, “You can accost me anytime you like, Father Aiken.”
His eyes darken, his jaw grinding in . . . frustration?
“Do not tempt me, Princess.”
The emerging reckless side of me answers. “Nay?”
Remembering his reaction last eve, I test my wares again. Tis an easy thing to do, showing Aiken how much I wish for him to kiss me again.
“Hilla,” he growls before closing the distance between us once again. His lips, his hands, they are everywhere at once. If not for a knock on the door, I’ve no doubt last eve would have been repeated.
As he breaks away and makes for the door, I readjust my gown—given to me by Aiken.
Just before he opens the door, Aiken looks back at me.
“This is not finished, Hilla.”
“I would hope it is not.”
He smiles.
If Salvi thinks it odd to find Aiken and I alone in my bedchamber when the door is opened, he shows no hint of it.
“You may wish to come below immediately,” he says, his tone urgent. “A messenger arrived, asking for you both. He will not give his missive to anyone but Father Aiken or Lady Hilla.”
“A messenger,” Aiken starts, and I add, “From?”
Salvi smiles and nods his head toward the corridor. We quickly follow, navigating our small party of three to the stairs. As we descend, Aiken turns to look up at me. His expression is filled with promise. With anticipation.
We are about to receive a message from the bastard son of King Galfrid. A man who could alter the course of the Isle’s future as I stand witness, the supposed enemy of Meria, the daughter of a man who hated Murwood’s independence nearly as much as he did all Merians. And yet, as Aiken turns away and reaches the bottom of the stairs, I think of only one thing.
If, when, and how Aiken and I will be together again.
