Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

After the disruption of the sorcerers and the morbid that had left everyone laughing nervously, the tone of the evening only sank lower. In months before, Ayleth might have been fascinated when two of the noble ladies fell over—and very conveniently into the laps of their Lords of choice. But tonight she just felt tired and… that she wanted her husband.

Falek had hurried Ayleth back to her chambers, muttering about too many Lords who'd spent the last two days without alcohol or women, and too many Ladies who'd missed the attention of the Lords. 

He hustled her into her chambers and stood guard outside while the maids undressed her and got her settled in bed.

Ayleth rolled her eyes, but put up with the extra protectiveness. She was on edge too. She couldn't blame Falek. 

The next twenty four hours would catapult the rest of her life.

For a moment after the candles were blown out and the ladies had left, all Ayleth could see was the outline of her door in warm yellow from the lanterns in the sitting room, and Falek casting his shadow over it as he stood guard. 

The room was quiet and soothing, and for a moment Ayleth let herself dream.

She dreamed of the signing of the Accord, and everyone finding that place within themselves that wanted good for everyone. Generosity of spirit, and burying of enmities.

She dreamed of Etan's eyes across the banquet hall as the announcements were called and each heir stood to declare himself.

She dreamed of him standing, his broad shoulders back, his strong hand on the hilt of his sword as he declared his intention to align, and called her name.

She imagined the shock of the watching crowd, and the murmurs and protests… and dreamed that they would melt away as she stood from her seat alongside her parents, and crossed the hall to stand before him and take his obeisance. 

She dreamed that her parents, and his, despite their shock, were willing to stand alongside, willing to see their children wed (again) and agreed to meet at the negotiation table.

She dreamed of ushering in an entirely new age to the Continent… but that first she was finally free to be with Etan. To touch and love him. To have him in her chambers and…

Ayleth's heartrate ticked higher as she saw Etan, standing in her chamber,  his hair falling down into his eyes—his eyes that simmered, taking her in as she slowly removed her clothing.

No maids would be needed. He would help with her laces.

He would unhook her stays.

He would stand behind her and massage the skin that had been so cruelly pinched and gripped underneath the layers of unyielding whalebone and silk.

His warmth at her back.

His hands would soothe and stroke.

His lips at her neck.

Ayleth shivered and began to ache. To… need. 

Her breathing became loud to her own ears as the images in her mind borrowed from their wedding night—but added new and exciting details. 

He'd said there were so many things she could learn, and he would show her. 

She would be an avid student. His body… remembering his body—the flat planes of his chest, the rippled muscles of his abdomen, the strong rounds of his shoulders and the ridged strength of his back, that long smooth line down its center that she could trace with her fingers. Or her tongue…

Heat flared between her legs and Ayleth wiped a sheen off her brow, then let her hands slump to the covers. 

Etan had said once that he wouldn't take her against a tree on her first time. But it wouldn't be her first time now…

She groaned and rolled over, but her body was alive and yearning. Literally aching for her husband. And after the way he'd kissed her and touched her in the privvy, she suspected she wasn't the only one.

Then she blinked.

Her husband.

He was her husband. 

There was no shame in wanting him—and no need for circumspection about giving herself to him any more. They were wed. Why was she allowing the circumstances to allow her to lay here and burn for him?

Why was he?

On the other side of the door, Falek shifted his weight and his shadow moved. Aylreth frowned. 

Why were all the men in her life so ready and willing to keep her locked up?

And why was she allowing it?

She turned and looked at the tapestry on the wall… or rather, the dark space where she knew the tapestry to be. The tapestry that hid a stone door, that covered a dusty, narrow walk-space, that led into the corridor a few doors down and would give her access to the rest of the castle.

And the stack of clothing she'd rolled into a sausage shape and stuffed into a little hole in the wall under one of the torch brackets. 

Then Falek's shadow shifted again, and she sighed. She couldn't disappear on him. It would send him over the edge if he discovered her gone. He was already tense.

She would have to convince him to come with her. 

But she wouldn't tell him about the clothing. Chances were, she didn't need it tonight anyway. And wouldn't need it after tomorrow. 

Better to let sleeping dogs lie. 

But since Falek wasn't sleeping…

Ayleth grinned, threw the thick covers back and hopped out of the bed. 

When she opened the door, her eyes sang with pain for a moment in the face of the bright lights.

Falek turned on his heel, his face stern and concerned. "What—?"

She gripped his elbow and tugged him into the room, checking behind him to make sure no one else remained in her chambers. But the maids had already left. 

Very good. 

Then she shut the door and turned to face her Knight Defender and prepared to do battle for the sake of her heart. And body. 

"Change of plans," she said quietly.