by Ana Adams
He laughed, leaning against the trunk. “And you think my people would like to see their prince perform in a circus?”
She shrugged. “Some people find politics to be a circus anyway.”
His eyes flashed. “Fair point. A circus without any of the cotton candy or happy endings.”
Rawnie climbed up the ladder positioned near the tree trunk and leaned out to grab the trapeze bar. “So you’re saying you have bearded women and little people running around inside the castle walls? If so, you must hook me up immediately. I’ve got a show we should put together.”
Anwar laughed, rubbing something between his fingers as he looked up at her. From this angle, with that sweetness in his face, she could fall in love with him again. Just like the night she’d met him.
“I’m serious about you learning, though.” She started swinging on the bar like a child on a swing set. “Would you like to get vertical?”
He peered up at her, squinting against the setting sunlight. “Yeah.”
Excitement trilled through her. Sharing her arts with people was one of the best things in life, and showing the father of her son a thing or two about her livelihood was doubly exciting.
“Great. Climb the ladder, all the way to the top.”
He did as he was told; the ladder itself was a litmus test in and of itself, since it allowed her to gauge if he might be afraid of heights. He scaled it quickly and without hesitation, a good sign.
“Good.” She lowered herself on the bar, hanging down so her feet dangled closer to the ground. “Now I want you to hang like this. I’m going to jump off so the bar swings to you. You need to grab it and hang on. Just swing like this.”
He nodded, eyes following the movement of the bar as she swung back and forth again and then launched herself forward. She landed on the ground gracefully, turning just in time to see Anwar launch himself toward the bar and grab it. He hung tight, using his body to keep the momentum of the swing going.
“Awesome!” She walked beneath him to the other side. “You’re doing great. Just keep swinging for a bit.”
“Until what?” Exhilaration shone on his face; being up in the air had that effect on everyone, no matter who they were.
“Until you can’t stand it any longer.”
He laughed, keeping the swinging going. “I thought I had upper body strength, but now I’m beginning to see I might not be.”
“It’s a different type of sport.” She crossed her arms, watching the mesmerizing movement of his body. Even just a gentle swing was fascinating. There was something therapeutic about overhead arts. “Are you feeling strong still?”
“Yeah.”
“If I grab onto you, will you stay hanging onto the bar?”
His eyes widened. “Uh…sure.”
She nodded, eyeing up the alignment. “Great. Now don’t freak out. Remember, I’m a professional.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
When his ankles were in the right position, she leapt for them, grabbing solidly and matching the arc of his swing. After a few swings like this, she launched her body upward, hooking onto his waist with her feet. Nudging herself into place, she locked onto his torso with her thighs. They swung like this, an unconventional set of parentheses, until she swung back down toward his ankles and then somersaulted from him to the ground.
Soon after she landed, he landed on the ground beside her. His face was flushed, eyes wide.
“You’re crazy.” He rubbed at his shoulder. “And I think I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”
She laughed. “Yeah, but if you keep practicing, you’ll get used to it.”
He rubbed his neck, looking up at the trapeze bar. “When you performed, there were two of these.”
“Right. But that would involve a partner, which I don’t have here.” She sighed, looking at the next tree over, where she envisioned a potential second bar. “I’ll just practice like this until I figure something out.”
He peered at her, earnestness shining in his face. “Have you always been practicing trapeze?”
“Basically my whole life.” She shrugged, nudging her toe into the dirt. “It’s the family business.”
“Yeah.” Anwar looked toward the castle. “I know all about that.”
A moment of pleasant silence passed, birds twittering around them as the settled into the trees.
“Did you come out here to tell me something?”
He studied her, something unreadable crossing his face. “No. I just happened to find you out here.”
“No test results yet?”
He sighed, surveying the distance. “Nope.”
Fatin came down the path, Anwar Jr. in her arms. Rawnie beamed at them, reaching for her son as they neared. “Come to mama, my little peanut.”
In her arms, Anwar Jr. giggled and cooed. Only an hour apart and she missed the little guy—and couldn’t for the life of her imagine anything that he could do that would cause her to exile him permanently from her life and heart. Sadness trickled through her, a daily occurrence since the rift with her family. She’d tried as hard as she could to get them to reconsider and forgive her…but the baby’s eyes betrayed him.
He wasn’t Roma. So they had to go.
Anwar stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the boy. “He’s a fine little boy.”
“The best there is.” She bounced him in her arms, enjoying the giggles that erupted as a result. “He’s smart, gorgeous, and quick as a whistle. Plus he’ll be a star on the trapeze someday, I already know it.”
Anwar strolled toward a path. “Shall we walk?”
Rawnie followed him, hoisting Anwar Jr. onto her hip. They meandered down the stone pathway, cloistered by olive trees and flowering shrubs.
“It sounds like you intend to continue the circus,” he said.
“Of course.” She laughed a little. “It’s my only sellable skill. My resume looks a lot different than yours, don’t forget.”
“Yes, of course.” He slowed, brows knit. “So you intend to continue working.”
“There’s no other way.” She picked a pink blossom off a bush as she passed, bringing it to her baby’s nose. She tickled him with it a few times, eliciting more giggles. “I’ve worked my whole life. Why would that change now?”
Anwar nodded, studying the distance. “Do you like doing it?”
The question floored her; it wasn’t hard to answer, but the fact that Anwar asked the question was shocking. It didn’t feel like he was asking out of suspicion or doubt. He sounded sincere, genuinely curious.
“I love what I do. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I can’t go more than a day without it.”
“I’ve noticed.” He smiled over at her, a dimple flashing in his cheek. Her chest tightened; what she wouldn’t give to kiss him, just one more chance to feel those full lips against her skin. Their kisses had haunted her for months.
“What about you? Do you like what you do?”
Anwar sighed. “I’m not sure.”
“How can you not be sure?”
“I mean, I’m not sure what I even do.”
Silence prickled between them. Rawnie gnawed at her lip, trying to think of a lighthearted response. But the weight of his words almost suffocated her. Sadness grabbed her, like a hand groping in the darkness.
“There’s always time to figure that out.” She offered him a smile, which he returned hesitantly.
“Shouldn’t I know by now?” He groaned.
“Maybe you already know, but you don’t know it.” She shrugged. “For me, there’s not much more to life than getting a good workout, enjoying the open air and having good sex.” She glanced at him, feistiness overcoming her. “And sometimes that last one brings a kid along with it, but I suppose those are just the natural consequences.”
He paused, eyeing her with a smile on his face. “So it was good for you?”
“If I need to tell you that it was good, you clearly aren’t remembering the right girl.”
&
nbsp; Anwar set his jaw. “You’re right. It was quite obvious that it was good for you…”
“And for you.” She lifted a brow, grateful for the chance to steer the conversation down this road. Like she’d been dying to since the second she’d laid eyes on him again. “Though I wasn’t sure by the way you abandoned me the next morning.”
“Abandoned?”
She nodded, hoisting Anwar Jr. higher on her hip. The scent of lilacs reached her, her favorite scent. She could live at this castle happily with her baby, the trapeze bar in the tree, Anwar fishing around for a connection, lilacs on the breeze. Maybe this was all she’d ever been looking for.
When Anwar didn’t ask further, she offered the information for him. “I woke up alone in the servant’s quarters. I had to sneak out like a common thief, only to find my entire family in the main hallway sending maids to find me.”
“I remember that morning.” He squinted into the distance, a lock of his hair falling over his forehead. Rawnie’s heart tightened painfully in her chest. “When I came back from the restroom, you were gone.”
This tidbit of information scorched through her like lightning. Could it be true? She’d spent the entire year thinking he’d fucked her in the servant’s quarters and left her at his earliest convenience, alone and vulnerable. She sniffed, trying to avoid going down that path.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s so long ago.”
She wandered further down the path, focusing on the slits of light that broke through the canopy of trees bordering the pathway. He grabbed her wrist, stilling her. Turning to him, her breath caught in her throat. There was fire in his eyes—the same as the night they’d met.
They locked eyes, Rawnie losing herself in the abyss of his blue eyes, so crystalline and perfect, yet somehow haunted. The heat of his hand on her wrist was intoxicating, nearly sent her to her knees while lighting up every sense. At her side, Anwar Jr. began to fuss.
She tore herself away from the gaze, turning to her son. “Oh, honey, do you want to eat?”
Anwar Jr. nuzzled her breast and she whipped out a boob to feed him. Anwar watched, transfixed, at her side.
“You seem so natural as a mother,” he murmured. They resumed walking a moment later.
“Thanks. It feels natural.”
The path rounded a corner, twisting into a deeper unknown. Rawnie realized she had no idea where they’d wandered off to, nor any concept of how large the castle grounds were. But she pressed onward, curious about where this path might lead.
After a few peaceful moments, the only sounds the twittering birds and her nursing son, they came to a clearing. Passing through a wooden gate, a meadow sprawled before them. The looming wall of the castle formed an imposing barrier to the grasses.
“Wow.” She shielded her eyes against the setting sun, which lit up the field in a blazing display of golden ochre. “This is gorgeous.”
Anwar smiled, surveying the property. “It’s a sight.”
She walked into the tall grasses, dragging her palms over the wispy tips. After a bit, she turned to look back at Anwar. He stood a distance behind her, watching her with a strange expression on his face.
“I love this place.” She sighed, lifting her face to the breeze. “This is my home.”
His face changed, something unknown overcoming him.
“Are you okay?” The breeze blew her hair over her shoulder, lifting it into the air.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a moment, he nodded.
“This just reminds me of a dream I had recently.”
She smiled, jerking her head toward the brilliant sunset sinking below the horizon. A huge tree in the distance stood silhouetted nicely against the hues.
“Let’s go make that dream a reality. This is better than a fantasy, wouldn’t you say?”
Chapter Five
Anwar lay in his bed later that night, tense and alert. Ever since that evening’s sunset where his dream had become manifest reality, he felt like the rug had been pulled from under him.
The jig was up. This girl was a sorceress or something.
And dammit if she didn’t ignite him the same way she had the night they met.
He turned onto his side, sighing for the billionth time as he tried to fall asleep without success. Three a.m. Tired but too keyed up to turn off his mind. All Rawnie’s fault.
The lovely evening spent at her side played through his mind again. He might relive this evening for the rest of his life—the same way he’d relived their first meeting for months afterward. What was so different about her? She was like a drug he’d never tasted before. So exotic and pure, he craved more from the first drop.
He was seeking her out just to spend time with her, and it frightened him. He told her he’d happened upon her that evening, but of course it was orchestrated—seemingly so that he could push her out of the castle, but he’d just wanted to inhale her essence. That sweet, prickly, addictive essence of Rawnie that could snag him no matter what.
He groaned, turning onto his other side. Why couldn’t she be in his bed with him? That might help him sleep. Though really, they wouldn’t get much sleeping done…
That was it—he just needed to jack off. He’d been too wired about the paternity and the future that he hadn’t even spared himself the most basic courtesy, that of letting off some of this goddamned steam from being around Rawnie again.
He threw back the covers, slipping his already-hard cock out of his briefs, fisting his length with a shuddery sigh. Rawnie’s face floated in his mind—her quirky, seductive smile, the lush roundness of her breasts as she nursed the baby.
He worked himself for a bit but it didn’t take long until his body tensed and shuddered, hot seed squirting into his palm, a gravelly moan escaping him.
Wiping off his hand with a tissue, he collapsed back onto the bed, blinking lazily at the ceiling. That might do the trick—but for how long?
Every fiber of his body craved Rawnie. Again.
She was fascinating, talented, spunky, and bright. She could bring him to his knees and elevate him to the greatest heights.
It didn’t make sense—they’d only known each other for the equivalent of a week. Furthermore, she was the mother of his child. Women weren’t just difficult to bear long-term per almost every source he had; once they became mothers the game changed entirely. No sex, no romance, no intrigue.
But none of that seemed remotely possible with Rawnie. Her very DNA seemed to be comprised of sex, romance, and intrigue.
Anwar turned onto his side, eyes fluttering shut as he drifted off. His mind made lazy laps around the truth, like a guard patrolling a quiet area.
His fate might have been laid out for him the second Rawnie showed up at the door with their son. But each day, that fate looked more like a sparkling oasis, and less like the bleak pit he’d feared his whole life.
***
Rawnie squinted into the morning sun, bouncing baby Anwar in her arms as she burped him. She’d been restless and agitated since the previous evening’s walk with daddy Anwar—a nickname she’d like to integrate, if only it wouldn’t make the prince throw her to the wolves—and she had an idea why.
She paced the length of the living room, smiling as her son gurgled and burped, his tiny, warm body a reassuring weight against her bosom. Something about the sunset spent at the meadow promised hope, but she couldn’t say why, was scared to think it might even be a possibility. Hoping for the prince to accept his bastard son might be too far-fetched for this world.
Yet she’d rolled out of bed even before Anwar Jr. prompted her up, alert and wide-eyed as though someone had siphoned caffeine into her system in the wee hours. Early morning training called, she’d reasoned. But that hadn’t been the sole reason.
Every shuffle or scuff outside her door made her tense and hopeful. It might be Anwar. But when Fatin poked her head in or a common maid requested dirty laundry, devastation trickled through her.
By nine a.m.
, she was exhausted from all the waiting. You’re going crazy. Calm down and continue your day. He has no reason to show up here.
Yet was it so wrong to think they’d forged a connection the day before? Something monumental had shifted—at least, it felt that way. Or was she just falling into a rabbit hole, blinded by the hormones and the sentiments? Since Anwar Jr.’s birth, even the sight of a father with his son could push her to tears. She wanted that so badly for her baby. To think that his father wandered these halls, only feet away at times, was a type of longing she hadn’t known existed in this life.
Rawnie breezed out onto the balcony, surveying the crisp morning. Oranges hung heavy on the trees nearby, so close she could grab one from her second-story balcony. She peered over the edge, admiring the thick stone columns that joined the balcony surface. It looked the perfect size and height to tie a silk to. And what a fun climb that would be.
She passed Anwar Jr. to Fatin and scurried to find spare silks. Fatin watched with knitted brows as she rushed to the balcony, tying and double-tying two silks to the thick base of the balcony columns, about an arm’s length apart. She tested them a few times while Fatin tutted.
“Ms. Rawnie, please, you shouldn’t—”
“I’m a professional, Fatin.” She grinned up at the two of them. Anwar Jr. reached for her and she kissed his forehead, then hopped up onto the stone wall of the balcony. Silk firmly between her hands, she let herself down a bit, wrapping her foot up in the other silk as she slid down.
Knotting herself up like a pretzel between the two lengths of silk, she practiced different knots and postures, each time dropping a little farther toward the ground. Fatin peered over the edge with wide eyes; Rawnie blew raspberries to her baby, who giggled from above.
She did a somersault and then unknotted her legs, hanging upside down, legs in a V formation. When she curled around to grab the silk, she spotted Anwar emerging from a grove of orange trees.
He approached, hands clasped behind his back, eyes twinkling as he watched her. She let herself slip a little closer to the ground, blood rushing to her head.
