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Einar’s eyes don’t move from carefully assessing my features. An eternity passes before he breathes out, “Do you want me to tell him to go?”
I hold his steady gaze, though I can hardly think past the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. There is a castle full of people dying around us, my sisters are still in danger, and I know, Iknowthat Madame will find a way to take him from me just like she has everything else in my life.
But he is here right now, and the fleeting moments of happiness in my life have been few and far between.
When I finally speak, my voice is barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
His face goes slack, his lips parting. He has to visibly pull himself together before he manages to call out, “You can leave it by the door, please.” His breath is hot against my lips when he speaks, and it takes more self-restraint than I feel capable of not to close that gap.
“Of course, My King.” There’s a clank when Leif sets the tray down.
As soon as the sound of receding footsteps fades, Einar’s mouth is on mine, eager and sure and less controlled than it’s ever been before. I respond with the same recklessness, opening my mouth and deepening our kiss.
He has treated me with such caution in the past, and I realize I don’t want that now. Because the world is falling apart around us and I’m tired of fighting the raw, unrestrained nature of what we have, of what we are. I fist my hands into his shirt and pull him until he is propped over me, reaching for the hem of his shirt.
He pulls it off with a single, fluid motion, and I take a moment to admire the perfectly sculpted ridges of his pale abdomen before he lowers himself back down to me.
His lips move from my mouth down to my neck, his hands trailing down the length of my side with an agonizing slowness, then back up, setting every inch of me on fire. Sure fingers pull apart the laces of my shirt, and he kisses each newly exposed bit of skin.
I have trained my entire lifetime to keep my emotions in check, but I am unraveling faster than these flimsy laces. I’m not even sure I’m breathing anymore, so consumed by the sensation of the way he explores my body with his hands and his mouth and every single zapping point of contact between us.
Finally, he touches my hem where it’s ridden up on my thigh. He pulls back long enough to ask me a silent question, his fingers curving around the fabric like he’s trying to physically hold himself back until I grant my consent.
I give him a solid dip of my chin, and he tugs the fabric up over my head. Logically, I know this room should be freezing, but all I feel is the heat radiating off of Einar and melding with my own. Suddenly, even the few underclothes that remain feel like too much.
It’s as though I’ve spoken the thought aloud, and maybe I have, because Einar growls and wastes no time removing the rest of both of our clothing. Any doubts or fears I’ve had are cast aside in this moment. For fifteen years, I have felt myself slipping slowly away, like smoke rising from the embers of the person I used to be.
But Einar’s body against mine grounds me, and when he sees me, trulyseesme like this, I almost start to feel solid again. Tangible.
I almost start to feel whole.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Einar
Zaina heads to the shower, which is the only motivation I have to leave my bed. Though, it takes a great degree of self-control not to join her.
But I never start my morning without looking at the rose.
On the way to my study, I ask Gunnar to escort Khijhana downstairs. Then, I collect our abandoned breakfast tray and rest it on the table where Zaina will see it when she comes out. She doesn’t seem to eat enough as it is.
Once I climb the passageway stairs, my eyes fly immediately to my rose. I grimace. No new petals have fallen, and Sigrid is running out of time, along with so many of the others.All of them, really.
I glance at my notes, my eyes resting on my next best guess for a cure. That’s all it ever is, a guessing game.
Zaina has insights, at least, and a new perspective, but we still haven’t managed anything concrete. When I’ve done all I can to prepare for the next batch, I turn my attention to something I can actually control.
On one of the far shelves in my library are several books on the cultures of the known kingdoms. Aurelia, Corentin, Floriend, Soccair, The Lochlann Realm, and so many more.
My fingers trail along the spines until I land on a tome of the lesser-known Eastern lands, a continent of many countries and kingdoms and cultures. There is also a glossary on the commonly used Desert language there. Grabbing one of the leather bookmarks from my desk, I place it there for easy reference before turning to wedding culture.
There, on the second page is a sketch of a woman dressed much like Zaina had been, with arcs and whorls intricately inked onto her arms and hands.
Heat rises up my neck to my cheeks as Zaina’s words on my thoughtlessness come back to me.Maybe you could have taken an hour to do some basic research.And it wouldn’t have taken a fraction of that long for me to prepare myself for her arrival.
Well, nothing could have prepared me for Zaina,I amend.But at least for her culture.
I flip through the pages, my eyes snagging on a few other things of note before I head back down to my chambers. Zaina is back in my bed, not yet dressed from her shower.
