Page 137 of The Princess and Her Grand King

"I forgive you, and I'm sorry too…" Her heart was overflowing with love. She reveled in the feeling of being held by him, safe and secure in his arms. "I love you so much."

His breath caught, and his arms convulsed so slightly around her. "Emeriel…Tartarus, I don't know what an ancient like me did to deserve such a treasure like you. I have not saved a kingdom, nor have I cured all the sicknesses of the world. What goodness of such magnitude could I have done to earn you?”

Emerielglowedfrom within. She felt cherished. Special.

I am the lucky one, Daemon. I always will be.

"Come, let's go home," he said, his voice regaining its usual strength. "Hydra Lake has seen enough of us for one day."

Raising his voice slightly, he added, "And Ottai has heard enough for today."

Lord Ottai was listening?Emeriel pulled back, her eyes widening in surprise. She glanced around, searching for the grand lord.

From behind a distant tree, the grand lord stepped out, a sheepish look on his face. He waved at them, awkwardly.

"How dare you listen in to my conversation, Ottai?" the king growled, his eyes still on Emeriel.

"I tried not to, Your Grace," he shouted from where he stood, his voice defensive. "But no matter how hard I turned my ears off, they managed to catch a word or two." He paused, looking even more guilty. "Or ten."

"Ottai," Daemonikai drawled in warning.

"I apologize, Your Grace," Ottai said, his tone far too earnest for it to be genuine.

The Grand King snorted, shaking his head before turning to Emeriel. “Let’s go home.”

She nodded, taking a few steps forward, but faltered when a sharp ache shot through her body. Emeriel winced, trying to mask it, but his watchful gaze caught her discomfort.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, it's… uhmm… that is…" This was difficult. How could she explain that her body ached, and she could barely walk right, from their passionate night together?

"I-I'm fine," she managed to say.

He arched a brow. "Are you really?"

Before she could answer, his arms slid beneath her knees and back, lifting her with ease.

"It seems someone isn't fully recovered from her… strenuous activity last night?" he teased, his voice dipping just enough to send her cheeks aflame.

“Stop,” she hissed, burying her face against his neck. “Lord Ottai can hear.”

Daemonikai let out a rich, low laugh. “I know Ottai looks all innocent and noble, but one of these days, you should listen in on Morina during heat. His look is deceiving.”

"Hey! That's not something you say to a lady,” Ottai called indignantly from behind them, his tone somewhere between affronted and amused.

Daemonikai stopped, glaring over his shoulder. “Are you implying I lack tact, Ottai?”

“Not at all, Your Grace. Only a fool would do that.”

Emeriel couldn’t help it—her lips curved into a smile despite herself. She leaned into her Beloved’s shoulder, hiding her face, her soft laughter muffled against his neck.

The king’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, smiling too.

And for the first time in years, Emeriel felt lighthearted. Happy.

Home.

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