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“I’ve always known I loved you, Olly.” Her fingers found my chin, tilting my head up to hers. “Can we start over?”
I shook my head, and felt her energy pulse with apprehension.
“We can’t start over,” I said, cupping her cheek. “There’s no need to. Because I cherish our memories, good and bad.”
A puff of laughter escaped my lips. “Perhaps one day this will be nothing but an exciting anecdote to our lives.”
“An anecdote where I don’t come off very well,” she groused.
“And whose fault is that?”
I was half-convinced she only kissed me to shut me up, but as soon as her lips met mine, I found that I didn’t care.
It was like stepping into a cherished memory, the nostalgia rushing over me like the tightest embrace. I felt five again, offering my best friend a wet peck on the lips and a loud giggle afterwards. And then twelve, indulging in an awkward meeting of teeth and lips, spurred by pre-pubescent curiosity.
She smelled the same. Touched the same. Goddess, she made me lose every thought that lingered in my mind, and any anxiety that bubbled in my gut.
The feel of her lips would forever be emblazoned on my skin.
When she pulled away, breaths gusting against my cheek, I restrained myself from reaching for her again. It was a monumental task.
I lay against her shoulder, trying to catch my breath and find my bearings.
“About Cryssa…” she began.
The cloud of pheromones vanished, chased away by reality.
I groaned, wishing that just for a moment, I didn’t have to consider the consequences of my actions.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Olympia
I trudged through the empty solarium and into the north tower of my fortress, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Mother’s scent was strong here, battling mine for dominance even before her chambers came into view. She had inhabited this tower by herself for decades, well before my father’s passing. Even as a child, I knew not to disturb her after she retired for the day. As Queen, her duties consumed much of her time, and she only returned to her chambers late at night or in the wee hours of the morning.
Like me, she was an early riser, and despite the pre-dawn hour, I knew she would be awake.
Guards lined the walls as I swept past, their utterings ofgood morningfalling on deaf ears.
I gathered a breath, trying and failing to muster my courage.
“Quite early for a visit, Olympia,” Oreani said in lieu of a greeting.
She donned a green silken robe that flowed with her like rippling water. Her hair was undone, flirting with her waistline as she glided across the carpet.
I couldn’t recall the last time I had spent any time in my mother’s chambers. Not, perhaps, since I was a child.
Nothing had changed. She had always favored greens—and any earth tones, for that matter—and her space reflected that.
I eyed the velvet brocade armchairs I hadn’t been allowed to sit on as a child, wondering if she would berate me again if I tried to use them now, or ask to inspect my palms first.
A soft snore emanated from the raised dais in the far corner, and for a moment, I stood stunned by the image of cascading golden hair and a dainty wrist peeking from between velveteen sheets.
I glanced away from the messy bed quickly, my gaze shifting from the bookcase to the settee and the empty cat bed before finally settling on the vanity in front of me.
I had no desire for any additional insight into my mother’s, erm, side ventures.
