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“You thought the Trials were a good idea because you wanted to buy time to get rid of Galen. You did it because your focus was on surviving, and I’m so glad that it was.” Essos retreats to sit on the bed.
“Es—”
“Am I supposed to besorry? Am I supposed to be sorry that he’s dead, and that I have not only you, but a child on the way?”
I stop where I am, across the room from him, and turn. “Maybe a little? I did all of this. I royally fucked everything up. We should be able to celebrate our child without worrying about everyone whispering that you’ve been had.”
Essos flashes me a wicked grin as he jumps to his feet and comes to me. “My love, this only makes it clear to everyone that you’ve been had, again and again andagain.” He whispers that last word against my throat before kissing my skin.
Did I say his words make me feel like butter left out too long? I meant he makes me feel like butter left in the sun, melted and bubbling with need that, unless fulfilled, might burn away to nothing. My lips crash against his, full of wanton desire.
It’s been like this since he’s been home, my hormones making me insatiable at all hours of the night and day. His hand cups the back of my head, angling my neck so he can better kiss me, deepening it until I reach between his legs. His arm winds around my waist, and he pulls me close. I can’t get any closer to him until he’s inside me, and that’s what I want.
I walk him backward to the bed. I haven’t said as much, but I’ve taken to wearing only dresses and skirts so I can have him whenever I want. When we reach the mattress, I shove him back—maybe a little too hard, because the headboard hits the wall.
Essos raises a brow at me. “Still trying to temper your strength?”
I scowl at the little lift to his lips that shows his amusement. “You will hush, sir, if you want to be inside me in the next few minutes.” I lift my skirts so I can straddle him. He pulls me down and assaults my lips with renewed fervor. He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to make up for lost time. Whenever he’s in the house, he’s never far from my side.
Essos has just begun to peel off my shirt when there’s a knock on the door. We barely break apart, breathing heavily, as we listen to see if someone is still there. The knock comes again, and I groan, grinding against Essos, needing the friction between my legs. A small moan escapes me, the pressure alone making stars burst behind my closed eyelids.
“Someone better be dead or dying,” Essos growls, his hands finding my hips and lifting me off him. I step back and follow him to the door, the threat of violence for being interrupted clouding around us.
“I truly am sorry,” Sybil starts once we’ve opened the door to them. They can see the look of us, utterly disheveled with swollen lips. “Rafferty is here for you.”
“Right,” Essos looks at me, his blue eyes full of yearning. “We did summon him.”
“We did.Lastweek.” I move to shove past Sybil, but Essos gently grabs my wrist and pulls me back. His fingertips graze my skin as he fixes my skirt, extra diligent over the taco-night swell in my abdomen. His gaze lingers, along with his hands, before he reaches up and sweeps his thumb under my lower lip.
When it became clear that to regain all my memories I’d need to have them unlocked, we decided to seek out the elusive God of Memory. Better to be fighting with every weapon in my arsenal than constantly wondering who I’m even talking to. I don’t know how Rafferty is able to do it, but he’s able to mask his location. Once I actuallyrememberedthat I wanted to talk to him, I was able to discuss with others how he can make us forget things, like where he is and how to reach him.
“Probably for the best we don’t greet him looking like two teenagers caught necking,” Essos says.
“Then you should do something about that.” My eyes flick to where his cock is straining against his suit pants. “I’m afraid that even in your pants, it might poke my eye out.” When I meet his eyes again, his pupils are blown, and I think he might fuck me against the door frame even with a Fate standing right there.
To my disappointment, he does not. “Gods, I missed you.” He turns to Sybil. “Isn’t being my assistant, I don’t know…beneath you?”
“My Lord—” they start.
“Feels too formal,” I interrupt, leading the way out of our bedroom.
“You say that about every title, love,” Essos points out.
“My Lord.” There is an edge to their words this time. “Until there is a reasonable plan for how to proceed and for what to do about my sister, I think it best that I keep doing what I do best.”
“Hiding?” I say, stalling at the top of the stairs.
Finally, Sybil looks affronted.
“Daphne,” Essos scolds.
“No, I’m allowed to be angry. Their sister ruined my life. Posey put all the pawns and pieces into play to take out a queen. I’m allowed to be angry that she went unchecked for so long. I’m allowed to be angry that somehow one was stronger than two. I’m allowed my righteous anger. Let me have my righteous anger, because I don’t know what I’ll do if the anger leaves me. Except I do know—I will fall apart, Essos. I will not be able to stand on two feet. I will not be able to look you in the face or look at myself in the mirror. Imurderedyour brother.” My hands clench and unclench at my sides, feeling like they’re coated in his blood once again.
There is nothing I can do to stop the tears that well in my eyes, and that just makes me angrier. I’ve done a lot for the sake of survival, but I’veneverkilled, not until now, and it’s so wrong. There are moments when I think I still see blood on my hands. It was one thing to talk about killing Galen in the abstract, but another thing entirely to watch the life leave his eyes.
We’ve discussed Essos’s feeling that Galen was no longer his brother and Octavia no longer his mother, but guilt sits heavily on my shoulders. I’ve fractured him from his family.
With a hand on my belly, Essos reminds me that we’re a family too. “Love—”
