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This wasn’t a prince who sat before me crying. This was a king.
This was why he had been drunk, why he looked completely undone. Dace wasn’t just overwhelmed, he was drowning.
“Oh, by the mother, Dace,” I said quietly, draping my arms over him and pulling him close to me. The smell of him wafted up to my nose, making my head dizzy. He wrapped his arms around me, but the embrace was weak.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.” A dampness spread down my neck and along my shoulder where he buried his face. “But I didn’t know who else to talk to. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m falling apart. My court needs me, and I’m falling into pieces at their feet.”
More than anything, his tears alarmed me. They caused panic to rise up in me that told me that I urgently needed them to stop. Maybe it was some sort of a Fae magic that he had about him that made me so desperately want to soothe him. Or perhaps it was because, as much as I wanted to talk myself out of it, I cared for Dace.
“It’s okay. If I’m going to be your wife one day, I’m bound to see you like this at some point anyway.”
Dace instantly sobered. He lifted his face, the tears he had cried shone on his puffy, pinked cheeks. “You’ll still have me?”
“I think so,” I laughed. “If you’ll have me. I mean I’ll only live maybe seventy more years. That leaves you many years to live without me.”
“I want you for all the years that I have you, even if it breaks my heart for the remainder of my life. You are the destiny I was born to fulfill.”
“For all my years, huh?”
“For all your years.”
Dace furrowed his brow, like he didn't know what had exactly taken place. Like he expected anger and frustration out of me instead of love. I didn’t get the moment to memorize his soul baring state, not before he closed the gap between us. Heat seared against my lips and down my body where our skin pressed together. He pressed his lips so firmly to mine that a pearl of desire dripped down into my abdomen and sunk lower.
My fingers intertwined with his hair, letting the perfect taste of him fill me with every hungry kiss. His large strong hands traveled down my torso and grabbed fistfuls of my ass and used the movement to pull me onto his lap. Warmth pooled between my legs at the press of the hard lines of his body against mine. I could taste the salt of his tears on my tongue. They only made me want to get closer to him.
This was the bliss that existed between me and Dace. This was the feeling of free falling that made me chase my high. Here in this space, a tangle of limbs and rose-colored lips, I was liberated of every constraint that held me.
Dace pulled away with a ragged gasp. “Will you come back to the Twinity Court with me, Ryker? Do I have to beg? I’m already on my knees, but if you need me to grovel, I’ll grovel.”
“Stop it.” I shook my head, running my thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away the streaks. “No groveling. That seems excessive.”
“So, you’ll come?”
“And what about all this?” I pointed behind me. All he could probably see was the tree that blocked us from everyone else's view, but I could see he knew what I meant.
“Shavarra can handle them. She’s done it once or twice before.”
The tip of his nose brushed against mine, teasing at another kiss. My stomach twisted and I could feel myself lean into him more.
“I think the witch could help us locate Daethian. Maybe even fix him.”
I pressed a firm kiss against Dace’s lips and pulled away, still speaking against him. “Say more things like that.”
“Oh, do you like that?” He teased, a feeble chuckle vibrating against me. “I want to help you solve your problems. Hopefully, you can help me solve mine.”
I wanted to tease him about how a prince, now king, shouldn’t have problems, but it seemed to be a bit ill-timed.
“I’ll come, but you’ll have to let me up and I’ll have a talk with Shavarra first.” I struggled to remove myself from our intertwined limbs, only managing to get myself seated just outside his grasp. His lips had rosied further at the roughness of our kisses; it made the way his hair stood on end look a little less messy and more like we had completed a full romp session.
I smiled at him, feeling oddly better being in his presence, despite the monstrous truth he had just dumped on me. Twigs broke under my palms when I leaned back, shifting my weight to go and stand. The sound, as small as it was, drew the attention of a few Nymphs not far away. I wondered how much they had heard.
Surely, not a lot. If they knew a Burgundy Witch was alive and well they wouldn’t be sitting there and only jumping at the sound of me walking. Dace must have been able to keep secrets well if not many knew about her. Or she could have been a relatively new find. New, but not so new that Dace hadn’t had time to bury his parents. Did Dace have the witch the last time we spoke? Were his parents dead then, too?
My attention snapped back up to Dace. One of his palms rested on a dagger, his finger tracing the lines of the hilt in a nervous twitch.
“How long have you had the witch?” I cocked my head.
He cleared his throat. “A while.”
