by M. Dalto
She watched him, words escaping her at the unexpected outburst.
“For all intents and purposes, Alex,” he continued, his voice hoarse. "The moment I was reinstated as Lord Steward, with Treyan dead...I have every right to your hand. To continue the line.”
Perhaps the wine was going to his head as well. She swallowed, her throat dry, and she wished she hadn’t finished her glass so fast. “After all you just told me? You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” he asked as he stood, his arms braced against the table. “With everything else I’ve done, why not? It’s what the lords expect of me anyway, isn’t it? To step in, follow tradition, as if nothing has changed.”
She should have cringed under his gaze; she should have shrunk away. It’s what she would have done before, but now—no, she wasn’t that Empress any longer. Instead, she stood as well, leaning on the table towards him, bringing her face to his, dangerously close, matching him gaze for gaze. “You’re not that man any longer.”
“I could be," he breathed, his breath warm against her lips. “In an instant.”
“You won’t be,” she retorted, her own breathing growing heavy, well aware of his eyes, his lips.
Reylor pushed off the table to stand straight as he regarded her. “Is that a challenge?”
“It could be.” She held steady.
He closed the gap between them in two steps, his hands on her waist as his lips devoured hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her mouth opened to his more than willingly—wanting—as he moved her back until she hit the table. He’d have her right then and there, she realized as his body pressed against hers, as his hands roamed up and down her back, as his lips moved to her neck.
For a moment she may have let him.
But then she remembered where they were.
And who he was.
Who she was.
“Not here,” she gasped out, refraining from the moan that wanted to escape her as his hands began to roam below her waist.
She swore she heard a ‘please’ murmured against her throat, and pushed away from him, needing to look at him.
The look in his eyes was nothing short of lustful, needing, and wanting. Her ragged breaths caught in her throat. She swallowed, quickly weighing her options.
“My room. Five minutes. Don’t let anyone see you.” Alex gave him one more kiss before he could question or counter her request.
Chapter Eight
As she hurried past the table, knowing he watched her every move, she picked up a full bottle of wine and a glass to take with her. Alex all but ran back to her rooms, making sure the hallways were clear to keep questioning eyes from looking her way. She didn’t want to think about what she was doing—the wheels were already in motion and it was too late to stop them. She shut her bedroom door, poured herself a large glass of wine, and drank it as she paced back and forth across the rug.
Five minutes.
It seemed like an eternity as she went over everything in her mind.
This was her idea, and no matter what happened, she wouldn’t be able to blame him for this.
She didn’t think she’d be able to blame him for anything after this.
The door opened quietly, but she barely heard it. It wasn’t until the door latched shut, and Reylor was leaning against it, watching her, that she realized he had entered her room.
His hair had been taken out of the ponytail, and the buttons on the collar of his shirt were casually undone to reveal his chest underneath. “Reylor...” she panted out, as though all other words escaped her, seeing him, standing there upon her request.
He didn’t delay a moment longer, striding across to where she stood, his hands cupping her cheeks as he brought his lips to hers in a kiss that contained so much passion, Alex almost saw stars. She let him in, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close. It had been so long, and she had been so alone.
Reylor moved her backwards until the bed hit the backs of her legs, and as though he was waiting for her invitation, he did not lie her down. Instead, he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and removed it. Beneath was a chest of sculpted muscle decorated with more scars than Alex expected. A blush came to her cheeks as she realized she was staring. He caught her and perked a knowing brow.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her blood pounding in her ears as she undid the back of her dress. His eyes didn’t leave hers as the dress loosened and draped over her shoulders, falling over the undergarments that covered her breasts, and pooling at her waist as she sat there, watching him.
His breathing appeared ragged as he watched her, and as soon as she leaned back on the bed, arching her back while she scooted out of her dress while moving towards the pillows, teasing as though to give him a better view of her undergarments, he pounced.
Wrapping one arm around her waist and tangling the other in her hair, Reylor gently lay Alex down upon the pillows as his lips once again met hers. Careful not to crush her from the weight of his body, he angled himself beside her, moving his lips down her neck while the hand that was around her waist became more adventurous, reaching up to cup her breast through the thin layer of fabric.
A moan escaped Alex’s lips, and her own hands began roaming over his shoulders and back. The act of touching, of being touched—Alex realized that was what she missed the most.
All thoughts escaped her head as his hand began trailing lower and lower until it reached the band of her undergarments at her waist. She stilled as she waited to see what he was going to do next, and as though Reylor could sense her anticipation, the kisses on her neck stopped, his breath warm against her heated skin.
Her own breath was ragged as she waited, but instead he leaned up to meet her eyes.
“Why did you stop?” Alex asked breathlessly, her brows furrowing slightly.
His own brows furrowed in response as he looked down at her. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
She looked up at him, opened her mouth to respond, and swallowed.
This was what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
As she gazed into those red eyes hovering above her, her mind flashed to the last time those eyes were so close, the last time she was in such a position with the Lord Steward perched above her.
The last time...
When he had kidnapped her. When he rambled on about the casting the spell, the magic—the curse—that brought the Empire to its current state, leaving its princess lost in the Otherrealm and its prince in its enemy’s hands...
Alex stat up, pushing Reylor off her as her heart began pounding in her chest while panic washed over her.
What was she doing?
“Alex...” Reylor reached a hand out, gently touching her on the shoulder, but she brushed his hand away so ferociously that he almost looked hurt.
Almost, until his steely resolve returned, and he moved to stand from the bed.
“I should go,” he announced, picking up his shirt from the floor without another glance at the Empress.
She watched him as he made his way to the door, her brain battling with her body. He was trying—he had been since they reunited after her return to the Empire. He had apologized, and she knew he meant it, and she had forgiven him, despite the severity of his past actions.
They were both trying, but...
“Reylor,” she said quietly, and he stopped, one hand on the doorknob.
He gave a glance over his shoulder, the look on his face unreadable.
“Stay,” she pleaded, as she motioned to the bed.
“Alex—” Reylor began as he turned to face her, but she cut him off.
“I’m not ready...yet...but please. Stay.”
Reylor stood there, watching where she sat back on the bed, as though sifting through his options.
“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a single step towards the bed.
“No,” she admitted with a smile, “but we have to start somewhere.”
Reylor watched her a moment longer as she curled
under the blankets. Finally, he nodded, walking to the side of the bed, dropping his shirt back to the ground, and climbing into bed next to her.
As they lay there, with his arms wrapped around her, the feeling of his heart beating against her back as she lay beside him, Alex realized that she was about to embark on keeping the greatest secret of her life.
Chapter Nine
Lexan was beginning to grow fond of liquor.
He had started to drink wine—perhaps a bottle—every night since the most recent events that had transpired between the Borderlands and the Empire.
However, between Razen’s boiling rage and Crystal’s pregnant mania, he was beginning to discover wine was no longer strong enough to get him through the nights.
He debated this as he sat at dinner one night with his Councillor and wife, the two deep in conversation about their next move against the Empire while Lexan, per usual, waited on the outskirts until something was needed from him. Which was rarely.
He was quickly finding he was content with that as well.
Which was also why he refrained from telling either of them that he had contacted his sister just the night before.
Speaking to Sarayna through their dreams had never been difficult. Their connection as twins practically made them predisposed to it, so no true training had been needed.
The first time he did it, he lured her to the Borderlands in hopes of joining their sides for the greater good. Razen, however had other, less savory plans for Sarayna. Lexan’s stomach still clenched at the thought of what he almost did to her before his mother so ruthlessly knocked him unconscious with a wine bottle.
Which was why his most recent dream was so important.
He knew she had found her Emperor, and she needed to know that returning with him to the Empire would be the worst thing to do if she wanted to keep him safe.
Lexan glanced up from his liquor glass to watch where Razen sat on his left—the former Councillor to the Empire, and his great-uncle. The uncle his father never knew he had until it was unfavorably revealed that one night...
He no longer wore the sage-colored robes of the Councillor, but instead his shirt was cut tight, unbuttoned low enough to reveal his chest, tucked into leather riding pants and boots as if he was ready to set off on a steed and rescue a damsel at any moment. If Lexan didn’t know any better, he would have sworn it was unbuttoned even lower whenever Crystal was around.
His gaze quickly shifted towards his wife, beautiful and pregnant with the Heir to the Borderlands. It made her act both arrogant and self-important—qualities she didn’t have when he first met her. She had become everything Lexan thought he once was. He also noticed that the neckline of her dresses tended to get lower in Razen’s presence.
Together, the two plotted and planned the end of the Empire, which now seemed like no more than a conquest done out of spite and revenge.
To Lexan, however, it was the destruction of his mother’s home.
In turn, the father who had left him for her.
He didn’t blame Reylor for choosing Alexstrayna’s side. It was common knowledge how he felt towards the Empire’s Empress. Lexan himself would not be alive were it not for his father’s choices, however unethical.
Returning his eyes to the glass in his hand, he gulped the hard liquor in one swallow.
No, he did not fault his father one bit, but he would not be able to stop the forces against them either, especially when Lexan was to play such an integral part.
He must have let out a sigh, for the conversation around him paused. As Lexan returned his eyes to the table before him, both Razen and Crystal were practically staring at him.
“It something troubling you, my Prince?” Razen asked.
Lexan’s eyes met those of his Councillor, and for once he felt something boil inside him—not the nonchalant carelessness he noticed as of late, but almost an unhinged rage.
“I’m fine,” he said shortly, and Lexan noticed Crystal’s eyes roll before she returned to her food.
He had to wonder when it was he lost her. Was it before he brought her to the Empire? No, he distinctly remembered that their relationship then was extremely fulfilling, albeit purely physical, but every sign she had given him was that she wanted him as much as he needed her.
Perhaps it was when she signed her name to the Annals. At the time, he would have threatened her to do so if she had refused—her agreement to become his Empress was paramount to proceeding with their plans, but there was no need. It was as though the moment she was given the opportunity for power and control, she grabbed onto it, holding tight and never letting go.
If he had known, he wasn’t certain he would have been so quick to take her to bed that night.
A blessing and a curse, the Annals and their Prophecy.
Her resentment towards his mother, however, was completely unexpected.
From his understanding, Crystal and his mother had been best of friends within the Otherrealm for years before Treyan even arrived. That something like the Prophecy could come between them...
Lexan stood from his chair when he had finished eating, with nothing more than a glance to Razen before taking his leave from the dining room. Crystal, surprisingly, excused herself and followed him in silence until they were on the stairs that led towards their room located in one of the castle’s towers.
“You were quiet tonight,” she commented as she walked beside him, a swirl of skirts bunched in her hands as they climbed the stairs to their room.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Lexan informed her with a casual shrug. Which was not a lie. There was a lot on his mind lately—the Empire, his sister, his mother, his father...but none of these, save any invasion involving the destruction of the Empire, were to be vocalized to his wife.
“It seems you always have a lot on your mind lately.” Her tone was anything but accusatory.
“That tends to happen when there’s a war to plan. I’m sure you understand,” he responded flatly.
“Not if you’re thinking about fucking your sister again,” his Empress countered as they reached the top of the stairs, turning to face him from the step above where he stood.
Lexan stopped, his hands clenching at his side—he was not in the mood today. Their nights always seemed to end the same since the confrontation within the Empire. They would return to their room after dinner, Crystal would remind him of the indecent act he almost committed for the good of the Prophecy, or so he thought, and he would in turn leave her to her own devices while he drank the night away in his study at the top of the tower.
“I don’t know how many times I have to remind you—” Lexan began through clenched teeth.
“Desperate times, desperate measures. I’ve heard it all before.” She cut him off with a flip of her hand, and Lexan felt his blood return to boiling as he closed the distance between them, taking that last step up to the landing, standing now a mere inch from her.
His pregnant wife she may be, but he was growing very, very tired of her.
“You’d do well to watch yourself, Empress,” he snarled with a fury he hadn’t felt since the day his father left. “For you know not what you say—or do—and I’d hate to blame it on your condition.”
“One of these days, Prince, you’re going to have to make a choice.”
“I have made my choice. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“But is it willingly?” Crystal smirked. “You don’t think I know why you drown your sorrows every night? You actually miss them.”
Lexan stayed quiet, motionless where he stood.
Crystal glared at him, and he could tell there was a fire burning in her eyes. “Your sister is a bitch and your mother is a whore. They left you, just as they did before, just as they will do again. Don’t even get me started on your father—”
Lexan raised a hand to her without thinking, and she at least had the decency to flinch as if he would truly strike her. He wanted to—he would be lying if he said otherwise, but he wouldn
’t. She was still his wife, his Empress, and the mother of his child—his heir. Even if she was manipulative, condescending, and most likely sleeping with Razen.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he whispered as he lowered his hand and held her gaze. “We have but one purpose for the time being—defend our lands, at whatever cost, to ensure the Empire does not return to its full power. When the time comes to act, I will act. In the meantime, it is not for you to even guess how I feel, or what I’m thinking. In fact—” Lexan’s eyes glanced over her in one swift motion, “it would be beneficial for you to remain in your quarters, away from the harsh realities of war.”
“You can’t lock me up,” she snapped, as though regaining her composure.
“I am the prince, Crystal. I can do whatever I want, especially for the greater good of the Borderlands and its unborn heir.”
The glare she gave him should have made him reconsider his position, but instead he stepped around her with his threat hanging in the air.
“You’re just like your father,” she hissed as he walked past her.
Lexan stopped, but instead of taking it as the insult she meant, he turned on his heel and gave her a dramatic bow.
“I thank you for the compliment and will be sure to tell him that the next time I see him.”
She called out after him, cursing his name from one god to another, but he continued without another acknowledgement of her existence. He slammed the door to his study at the top of the tower—a sanctuary that was far more appealing than the woman he chose to make his wife.
It was at that point Lexan realized, as he poured himself another glass of liquor before sitting before the open window that looked beyond the Borderlands, that once his heir was born, there would be no more use for Queen Empress Crystallia.
Chapter Ten
Keeping secrets was hard.
Alex never understood the importance of secret-keeping until she had one of her own to keep.
