Page 9 of Dreams of Ash and Smoke

I open my mouth to speak, to greet him, but he spills words out between us before I can make a sound.

“Dance with me.” Unlike when Dryston tells me things, this is not as much a command as it is a request— one brimming with need in his liquor colored eyes.

But, almost as if my brain stops working, I stand frozen. Shadows billow around him and it’s then I notice his High Fae gift is shadow manipulation.

He works his way from the other side of the table to mine and gently takes my much smaller hand in his tan muscular one. He’s wearing formal clothes, perfect for a ball but seemingly less uptight than everyone else here. His black button up shirt reveals a part of his chest, also muscular and littered with tattoos. I can feel the heat spill from him, adding to the bourbon effects.

The Dark King leads me to the dance floor and people seem to notice immediately before parting the way for us in hushed, confused whispers.

I feel Dryston’s eyes burn into me but I can’t convince myself to look at him and see the disappointment in them.

The kings left hand stays with my right and he pulls me close, the scent of him consumes me.

The concoction of maple and brown sugar make the air taste like cookies and waffles. I take a deep breath in, hoping he doesn’t think I’m smelling him even though I definitely am trying to engrave this scent to memory. It smells like… home. A home— something foreign to me my entire life.

Our eyes meet again and in no time, our feet are moving in precise synchronicity. Like we’ve danced together a million times before. I hadn’t realized he already placed his right hand in a respectful position on my back. Others dance around us, even as their eyes follow our movements.

I’ve danced with a total of four people in my entire lifetime; my father, my mother, Dryston, and now this male. This Dark King Eryx that looks like heaven and hell— that smells intoxicatingly like freshly baked dessert.

Our movements are fluid and smooth, just as smooth as the dress. Mybody is hot and I can’t help but feel moisture between my thighs, suddenly needing a relief. My chest rises and falls in heavy and hasty succession.

Why am I acting like this? What has come over me?

His fingers twitch on my bare skin and my breath hitches in my throat until the song ends, and our feet stop moving. The bottom of my dress swishes against my skin from the sudden motion.

He lets go of my body before catching my left hand in the same one that graced my back, bringing it to his lips as his darkened eyes stay locked on mine like they had this entire dance. “You are truly breathtaking, Princess Verena.” He plants a kiss on the back of my hand, then again just past the first row of knuckles. I let out a shaky breath, freezing on the spot while my blood runs cold when my eyes find his tattooed hand just as it releases mine.

He takes a step back and leaves me alone surrounded by guests. My entire body flushes in a deep blush. My hands are as shaky as my breathing. My heart thunders inside my chest cavity.

It feels as if ice water is poured over me. His hand. The markings.

It is an exact replica of the hand from my dream— the same dream that has haunted me for a decade.

Chapter 5: Long Live the King

Verena

Dryston’s Coronation Day

Your presence is hereby cordially requested

by the Royal Family

to witness the momentous Crowning of

Prince Dryston Whitewell

Ihave been awake for five hours and the staff is barely even up themselves. It is so early.

But, I want to get a workout in. So, here I was in the woods again with Hadeon to train.

We spar back and forth, the same as usual except this time I can handle him… mostly.

“I just don’t understand.” I speak, throwing my weight into each hit. “Was it to piss Dryston off? To get to me? I am a High Fae. I haveclassand I am about to be this country’s queen. That means something to people. And he just demands me to dance with him? Like… like- ugh!” I say, frustrated at my lack of meaningless words to spew.

Hadeon fights back, as per usual. “You don’t seemlike you minded.” He smirks at me and I squint my eyes back, punching him in the chest. “Ow!” He rubs the sore spot. We stop sparring, breathing heavy. “Not that I think Dryston noticed. I just know you better than he does. You just seemed…” Hadeon pauses, “I don’t know.” He shuts off, as if he has said too much.

“What?” I ask. He shakes his head, waving me to continue. “No, Hadeon. What? I seemed what?” I demand of him, not taking no as an answer. He’s silent for a moment, almost unsure of what to say if anything but the truth. I give him a light push, hoping to pull it from him.

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