“They have. To you, especially. But it’s hard to recruit when the population is prosperous and content. Your father’s approach lacked the human touch, you know? It was easy for those criminals to peel off sons and daughters who felt the modern world had more to offer them. Ever since your father opened the border, it’s been building. A lot of young ones felt cut off from the new. The older ones resented it.”
I pondered this information. Arya’s fascination with the outside world isn’t an outlier. She’s like me, at that age. Obsessed with all things modern. I assumed I was the only one, but I was normal. Utterly normal. I just didn’t know it. Had no context for comparison.
“Me, I’m too old for change,” Melcan laughed. “I have my house and my family and my Pickles. Life isn’t so bad. I don’t need modern problems.”
“Is this a common attitude amongst the people?” I asked.
“Common enough. Now that us oldsters account for more of the Auralian population you’ll likely find resistance to new technologies. Course, the younger ones like your knight back there don’t listen. Want all the gadgets they can get. You’ve an unenviable task ahead of you, Princess. But I like what I’ve seen so far. You’ll manage fine.”
I can’t imagine what he’s seen to give him that impression, after a quarter-hour of conversation. Platitudes, but I’ll take the crumb of positive feedback. Goddess knows I never had any from my father.
He dropped us at the door to Lorcan’s cottage. We waved him off.
I’ve long said that I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps when I ascended to the throne. When I thought of what my rule would look like, I imagined it as the Gaol, only colder, darker, and more frightening. An endless wasteland. But now I have a guide, of sorts. I want to follow my mother and grandmother’s approach to governance.
I understand why my father wouldn’t let me leave the castle. He’d already lost his wife. His primary job was to keep her alive and support her, or their daughter, and he failed on both counts. The danger was too great, so he kept me clutched so firmly in his grasp that I couldn’t breathe.
With Lorcan, I could roam freely...as long as I keep him at my side.
Which is not currently the plan.
Maybe Saskaya was right. I should try again with him. This visit has been wonderful, giving me insight into parts of his life I’ve only glimpsed before. Now, I get to see it every day. He’s patient and funny, kind and generous, even when his sister is driving him crazy or his mother insists upon honoring him in ways that Lorcan would prefer to avoid. He’s a good man. Haunted and scarred, but he tries not to let it show.
Plus, I have Raina’s (begrudging) permission to fuck him. Not that I need it, but considering how little I trust my own judgment anymore, I appreciate having it.
Inside the cottage, Lorcan toweled my hair gently. I changed into his old woolen trousers again and helped myself to one of his sweaters. It hangs off one shoulder. Everything still hangs off me. I’m a human clothes rack.
“Do you want tea?” he asked when I came into the kitchen. The kettle was already emitting a high, uneven whine.
“I’d love some.” Leaning my hip against the counter, I watched him pour the water into a pot and set out two mismatched cups. I shouldn’t do it. I’ll only get my heart broken again. And yet...I want to.
At night, we sleep curled around one another, but it’s been chaste. Not even a hint of sexual interest from him. It would be impossible for him to hide it.
“You look thoughtful.” Lorcan placed one cup beside me. “Melcan didn’t bother you, did he? Bit of a character.”
“No. He didn’t bother me.”You do, though. I can’t decide what to do about you.My head says to leave the past in the past. My heart…No. It’s not my heart. It’s everything from the neck down, wanting to try what I’ve been denied. If I’m still capable of feeling those things. After River Bend, I’m not sure. I hadn’t felt desire in so long, and then to have the first attempt end so disastrously…
“Interesting guy,” I said, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“I see you stole my sweater.” Lorcan tugged my sleeve.
I ducked my chin.
“Didn’t I give you your own sweater just this morning?” Lorcan smiled over the top of his mug.
“I like this one better.” I smiled back. “Feels like wearing your hug.”
“That, you can have any time, Princess.” Lorcan set his tea aside and took me in his arms. My heart battered against my ribs. I felt his pulse beating hard, through layers of fabric, as I traced the line of his throat with my fingertips and brought them higher, tangling them in the hair at the nape of his neck. Always in need of a haircut. That’s never changed in three years, several continents, and one war.
“I love you,” he murmured against my temple. My remaining resistance breaks. I tipped my face up to kiss his lips. Gentle. Chaste. Our first real kiss since the disaster of our arrival back in Auralia a month ago. The one at the castle was for show. For others.
This one is only for us, and it’s as tentative as you can imagine.
A flash of lightning from outside highlighted every lash, every striation in his iris.What have I done?It’s my last coherent thought before the next kiss.
This one is not chaste. It’s hungry and unyielding. My lips parted on a gasp, and memories flooded through me, only to be erased with each press of his tongue, every hot breath against my cheek. Past and present became a confusing blur in my mind.
Lorcan picked me up and placed me on the countertop. I wrapped my legs around his hips, locking my ankles. He nipped that place beneath my ear that makes everything south of my navel clench, hard. His erection pressed against my thigh, not quite where I wanted it. I inched forward, seeking blindly.
