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“It is late, my lady. Are you in need of a room?” the man asked. He wheeled towards her, his chair decorated with vibrant flowers similar to the ones they saw on their path.
“We are,” Protego replied, and the burly man nodded.
Primrose smiled, looking over the flowers.
“My little ones decided I needed them. It was this, or they were going to paint my nails.” His deep brown eyes lit up as he spoke of his daughters. He reached for a key, and Protego walked towards him, taking it.
“They sound quite fun! I’d love to meet them,” Primrose beamed.
“They’re asleep now, but I’m sure you’ll catch them running around in the morning. Your room is the third door upstairs, on the left.”
Primrose and Protego headed up the stairs and unlocked the door. The room was not as glamorous as the ones in the castle, but it was humble and clean. The bed sat on a simple metal frame, and there was a small dresser on the west-facing wall. Fresh white sheets covered the bed, and Protego threw their blanket onto it.
“One bed, that’s a bit scandalous for a woman betrothed to another.”
Primrose let out a small squeak and bunched up her face. “Seeing as you just completely ravished me, I don’t think this is an issue.”
Protego chuckled and sat on the bed, removing his large boots and tossing them to the side. Primrose followed suit and took off her overdress but left on her chemise. She pulled on the sleeves of his jacket, gently tugging it off. He laid down, and she placed her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat as she pulled the blanket over them.
“Do you ever feel like your dreams aren’t just dreams?” she asked, running her fingers through the dark locks of his hair.
“Like when you sleep?”
“Yeah. Do you ever feel like they’re memories? Even if you don’t quite remember.”
Protego looked pensive and then spoke. “Sometimes. Most of my dreamsarememories.”
“Do you enjoy remembering, or do you ache to forget?” Primrose looked into his crimson eyes.
“Oh, starling, I never wish to forget. Not my past or my present.”
He pulled her up, now nose to nose with her, and they curled around each other, a tangle of limbs and warm skin.
“When this inevitably has to end, you won’t regret it?” she asked.
“The inevitability of our situation ending is debatable.”
Primrose closed her eyes and found herself filled with want and desire. A desire for him and a desire to believe his words. She wished for a realm in which this was permanent, where every day she could wake up feeling safe and warm next to someone who cared so deeply for her and not an old man with a shady agenda. As she opened her eyes, she could see Protego staring into them.
“Your eyes are so green; they look ethereal.”
“I don’t feel very ethereal. I feel frail and, frankly, dirty.”
“Dirty?” He kissed the side of her neck.
“Like I’ve been lying next to a wet dog.” She giggled.
“Ouch!”
Primrose leaned in and kissed him, feeling warmth hit her core as he wrapped his arms around her. She pulled the covers up over their heads, inviting them into the darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
Theyawokethefollowingmorning to the sound of giggling children and light footsteps running through the halls. Primrose put her chemise back on and cracked open the door to find two petite brunettes playing in the corridor. Their braids swaying with every movement, the freckle-faced girls smiled and waved at Primrose.
“My name is Jules,” the shorter one whispered.
“And I’m Laurel,” the older girl said proudly, twirling her pink dress as she moved.
