Page 60 of The Curse Between Us

The guards stared in awe, their eyes wide with wonder at the unexpected beauty. Edric’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s beautiful,” he said, unable to speak louder, unwilling to disturb the peaceful silence that surrounded them.

Zephyr turned to look over his shoulder, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It is,” he agreed, his voice tinged with both wonder and something deeper. He loosened the clasp onhis cloak, letting it fall from his shoulders. “And warmer than Eskarven, though not as warm as Rafria.”

Edric nodded thoughtfully. “Like the meadow,” he said, his mind racing with the possibilities. Clara and Hadley had spoken of restoration, of balance being brought back to the world. It seemed that they had found something even more significant here. “Once again, it is quite literally the middle ground.”

Zephyr’s eyes met his, and Edric saw the understanding there, the shared recognition of the importance of what they had found. “The land continues to change,” Zephyr murmured.

Edric peered ahead, but the path through the trees was blocked. There was no clear way forward on horseback. “We will return, better prepared,” he said, his voice steady. “Unlike in the meadow, we might easily lose ourselves among the trees. We can bring cloth to mark a path, and more companions so we can cover more ground.”

Zephyr looked longingly at the trees, but nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m certain Clara would like to be present when we explore further, and I know I would draw comfort from her presence.”

Kelvin cleared his throat, his tone surprisingly bashful as he looked between Edric and Zephyr. “Might we accompany you on this return mission, Your Majesty?” he asked, his cheeks flushing as both men turned to him in surprise. “This is the most wondrous thing my eyes have ever seen, and I would like to play whatever role I can in this story.”

Zephyr smiled warmly at him. “Of course. We would be honoured by your presence.” He turned back to Edric, a playful glint in his eye. “I am happy to be returning with news of a change that does not seem to be an immediate threat, for once.”

Edric shook his head with a small smile, still captivated by the sight of the vibrant trees against the blue sky. “Let usenjoy it while we can,” he said, though his words were tinged with a somber note. He winced when he saw Zephyr’s smile fade at his words, but it was the truth. Time was fleeting, and they had no way of knowing how long this peace would last.

Chapter Fifteen

Three more days passed in a tense, oppressive silence, each one stretching longer than the last. Zephyr could feel the weight of expectation pressing on him as if the air itself were thick with an impending storm. He braced himself, every nerve frayed, waiting for another messenger to come with news of more despair. The royal academy’s scholars were working tirelessly, burning the midnight oil to create a filtration system that could purify the contaminated water. It was their last hope, and though Wilfred’s eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights, his resolve remained unwavering. During their brief meetings, he would look Zephyr in the eye and say, “We will solve this. We have to,” his voice full of quiet but steely conviction.

Zephyr couldn’t help but admire the tenacity in Wilfred, but his mind always circled back to the fears gnawing at him. Yet, despite it all, there was Edric—always there to ground him, his presence a balm to his frazzled nerves. In the nights that seemed endless, when nightmares would creep in and make him wake in cold sweat, Edric was his anchor. Even if the layers of thick clothing between them were a physical barrier, just knowing Edric was there beside him in his bed made the darkness of his dreams fade away, replaced by a sense of peace he hadn't known in weeks. Every morning, when he opened his eyes and saw Edric's head resting on the pillow next to his, it gave him the strength to face the day, no matter how dire it seemed.

On the fourth night, Zephyr and Edric returned to Zephyr’s chambers early. There was a new kind of familiarity between them now; these rooms, once only his own, had slowly become a shared space in his mind. Zephyr led the way, his heart lighter for the comfort Edric’s presence brought. He sank into the armchair by the fire, staring into its flickering depths, as if the flames might somehow reveal the answers to the questions that plagued him. The door closed softly behind Edric, and for a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire and the soft hush of the night.

“Zephyr.”

The sound of Edric’s voice broke the stillness, and Zephyr looked up. Their eyes met, the firelight dancing across Edric’s features—his sharp cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. Zephyr’s heart stuttered in his chest, his body aching with the need to be close to him.

“You’ve been under a great deal of stress,” Edric said, his voice soft and understanding, yet there was an edge to it—something that made Zephyr’s pulse quicken.

“So have you,” Zephyr answered, his voice tight, but Edric only shrugged in response, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he moved toward the wardrobe.

Zephyr watched him, his curiosity piqued. He craned his neck, trying to see what Edric was up to, but the wooden door of the wardrobe blocked his view. A few moments passed before Edric emerged, a pair of black silk gloves in hand, his eyes gleaming with a knowing light.

“Hold out your hand.”

Zephyr hesitated, a protest on his lips, but Edric’s impatient gesture was all it took. He obeyed, extending his hand, his eyes locked with Edric’s. Slowly, deliberately, Edric slid the gloves over his own hands, the smooth fabric gleaming in thefirelight. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Edric reached out and stroked the fingertip of one gloved hand across Zephyr’s palm.

A shiver ran down Zephyr’s spine, the cool silk brushing against his skin, and he had to bite his lip to suppress the surge of sensation that coursed through him. The fabric, though delicate, created a barrier between them, preventing the touch from being too harsh, but the eroticism of the action made his body tremble with anticipation.

Edric’s smile widened, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, and then, to Zephyr’s shock, he sank to his knees before him.

Zephyr gasped, the air thick with tension, his chest tightening as Edric’s intentions became clear. “You—” he began, but Edric’s gaze, dark and intense, silenced him.

“Yes,” Edric affirmed softly, his voice steady despite the clear hunger in his eyes. He rested one gloved hand on Zephyr’s thigh, the warmth of his touch grounding, anchoring him in the moment. “Let me give you this, Zephyr.”

Nodding, Zephyr’s fingers fumbled at the ties of his breeches. He knew Edric wouldn’t want to risk the bare touch of his skin against Zephyr’s, and the thought sent a rush of heat through his body. His cock was already straining against the fabric of his trousers, and the anticipation of Edric’s touch made his heart race. Slowly, he undid the ties, letting his breeches fall to the floor in a pool of cloth.

With a breathless whisper, Zephyr spread his legs wide, leaning back in the chair. Edric looked up at him once, silently asking for permission, and Zephyr nodded, a soft “Please” escaping his lips.

The first brush of silk against his erection made Zephyr gasp, his body jerking involuntarily. The sensation was cool, almost teasing, as Edric’s hand moved with torturous slowness,the gloved fingers curling around Zephyr’s cock with deliberate ease. The contrast between the softness of the silk and the heat of his skin was dizzying, each stroke making Zephyr’s head spin.

“Why did we never think of this before?” Zephyr asked, his voice strained but curious, his body straining against the sensation.

Edric’s grip tightened, and Zephyr moaned, the sound raw in the silence of the room. “Stop thinking,” Edric ordered, his voice a command now, a gentle but firm directive. “Relax, husband.”

Zephyr’s body trembled as he obeyed, his head tilting back to rest against the velvet of the chair. Edric’s movements were fluid, practiced—each one a deliberate, slow dance meant to drive him to the edge. Zephyr’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with each pass of Edric’s gloved hand. The visual of the black silk against his flushed skin was more erotic than Zephyr had ever imagined, the sight of Edric’s hand moving over him in such a deliberate, controlled rhythm making his head spin.

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