Page 17 of The Phoenix Inheritance

“Nothing at all?”

Beneath the hard sheen of anger I see the pain of rejection in her jade irises. I wish I could comfort her, but I know that would only sting her pride further. Our kind is simply not raised to accept sympathy as anything but an insult.

“No,” I say firmly. “This isn’t what I was looking for tonight.”

Amaru jerks away and bats my hands off. Her fingers rest on her spectacles, and for an instant I fear that she’ll turn me to stone. I begin to shield my gaze, but she readjusts her eyewear a fraction of a second before it’s too late.

“Then I have no more time to waste with a chicken Prince,” she huffs before storming back to the fort.

And with her departure, I feel oddly liberated.

I also know what’s left to do.

I have to find Isobel. Now.

Since I’m already outdoors, sneaking into the forest isn’t difficult. I carefully divest my princely outfit until I wear no more than a linen undershirt and trousers, figuring anything extra isn’t fit for a midnight stroll through the woods.

As I stumble through the spiny branches in the dark, it suddenly occurs to me that Isobel probably won’t be too pleased to see me. Not only will I be knocking on her door at the dead of night, but she seemed royally annoyed when we parted ways. Last time I obviously went a bit overboard – thankfully having my backside thrown onto hard rock doused my ardor before I did anything to Isobel that she didn’t want.

I can still turn back…But no. Selfish I may be, but I desperately need Isobel right now. I need her because I gulped down half of my gourd of potion, and the agony of it still burns in my stomach as a result. I need her because she’s warm and bright, when everyone else tonight filled me with dread. I need her because I’ve finally realized what's wrong with my life, and I’m not strong enough to change it by myself.

But most importantly, I need to tell her that…

Is that Isobel?

I frown in consternation as I spot a slim figure on the roof of her cottage, the highest point visible for miles in the steppes surrounded by jagged cliffs.

“Isobel?” I pant the instant I’m within her hearing range. “What are you doing up there?”

Straw rustles and all of a sudden a pale face peers down at me. It’s contorted with outrage and her eyes look as large as a pair of eggs, but the sight makes my chest tighten.

“And you? What on Earth are you doing here at this hour?”

My pulse quickens when I notice she isn’t wearing her usual thick, sack-like dresses. She seems to be covered in nothing more than a thin nightgown, and I can glimpse the subtle swell of her breasts in the moonlight.

“I had to see you because…” I swallow with difficulty. “Last time, I said I came to show you my wrist. It wasn’t true.”

I know I’m not making much sense, but is it so bad that it makes Isobel’s face drop? My heart twists. I’ve witnessed hints of her sadness before, fleeting flashes of something deep when she talks at times, but I’ve never seen her look downright miserable before. She’s usually either sprightly, or miffed at me. Anything else just twists at my heart.

“Dane,” she sighs in a whisper, but in the silence of the Solenz I can capture her every word. “Why do you keep coming back? There’s nothing here for you.”

I find myself climbing the wall until I’m on her thatched roof. It isn’t too high up here, but I fret she may fall and break her neck. I catch her arm just in case.

“You’re here,” I respond simply. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Her eyes grow more impossibly large, and there’s no missing the red splotches across her cheeks even in the dark. As I study her in silence, I wonder how I could conceivably believe she isn’t beautiful. I was probably trying to come up with excuses to stay away from her since she’s human, I eventually conclude.

And indeed, she couldn’t look more mortal at this moment, especially after all the supernaturals I saw at the ball. Isobel’s traits hold none of our preternatural perfection. There’s a slight asymmetry to her face, her eyes are way out of proportion with her trim lips and there’s a certain awkwardness to her nose that’s a bit too marked on her otherwise delicate features.

Yet the combination of all the things that make her, and especially that lively, sparkling gaze take my breath away. Isobel awakens me a thousand times more than all the statuesque beauties I saw tonight.

“Aren’t there any young women where you’re from who live in a place more respectable and accessible than a land everyone calls cursed?” She points to the scratches I sustained from the bushes in the woods. “Obviously coming here is an ordeal. There has to be a more convenient solution, or –”

I cut her short by putting my finger on her mouth. “That’s what I needed to tell you,” I mutter, yearning to taste the spot I’m touching with my lips instead. “That you’ve got it all wrong.”

When I take too long to finish my sentence, she frowns and presses in a muffled voice: “And what could that be?”

I force my gaze back to her eyes, melting inside at their warm brown hue. “You’re the one I want to kiss. Just you.” I let my thumb trail over her cheek, rough granite over silk. “You keep talking about other women as if I have a mountain of them pining after me back home, but that’s not the case. Or even if it were, I wouldn’t have noticed, because you’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.”

Isobel’s irises are steadfast on me, and I hate the doubt I see lurking in them. “But it’s not the same for me, Dane.” She gestures at the dark and deserted landscape around us. “You’re literally the only living thing in my world, aside from a few fish and shrimps.”

I think of the short but vibrant moments I spent with her – Isobel laughing, Isobel doctoring me with a fork and a few yards of gauze, Isobel coming up with a silly deal to kiss. Compared to the rigid, tense days I’ve led at Østrom, it’s Isobel’s world that’s full of life and color. Not mine.

“I think we may be more similar on that front than you believe, minus the fish and the shrimps.”

And with that, I press my lips to hers for the second time.

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