Page 21 of His Dark Delights
She was a dream, a nightmare, a forbidden creature of strength and peace that called to me. Lilly was the sky, the earth, the flowers blooming under the embrace of the sun. My tether to a semblance of peace I thought forever ripped from beneath me.
I spent countless days dragging myself through the routine of palace life, sorting through the memories of our time together. Though our conversations had been simple, they unburdened me. There was something profound about sharing a softer side of myself I’d almost forgotten existed. Conversations unburdened by war, by duty to a crown, had unraveled a tension I didn’t know I carried.
Lilly, speaking of her dreams, of her years with her father, were cherished memories now. Even in memories, she captivated me. In moments where I disregarded my council, my irritating great aunt, or the droning subjects of the kingdom, I returned to her in my mind. And in those moments, I lost myself in the depths of my feelings—my obsession—so fierce it unsettled me.
That farm on the outskirts of my kingdom had become an unforeseen haven. A place where, for one monumental week, time had seemed to stand still. In my dreams, I returned to walking through her meadow hand in hand with the spring sun warming our skin. In dreams, I returned to Lilly where she showed me the simple beauty of her life and provided a sense of peace that had eluded me since my world succumbed to bloodshed. Those dreams planted seeds, ideas in my waking mind, and at dawn, I would water them andwatch them grow. Flowers for her, with her, flowers with the promise of a new life, the kind she deserved—with me.
Our last night together, I’d wanted to tell Lilly everything, to divulge the truth of my identity. Fear had cut the confession from my tongue when she lamented her views on the war. Fear of losing her. Then in the morning, I lost her anyway. Her tears cut me to the quick, sharper than any blade that had ever permanently marred my skin.
I shouldn’t have gotten on that horse and rode away. I should have broken down her door, tossed her on the saddle with me and brought her back—by my side—where she belonged. The decision not to take her formed chains around my heart. Lilly’s absence was an ache that refused to fade, like a persistent bruise reminding me of the peaceful bliss I’d forsaken by leaving her behind.
I had to see her again, by whatever means necessary. And if required, I would beg her forgiveness. Those thoughts left me more restless than ever. Driven by my insatiable hunger, I summoned Rhydan and a few knights. My friend stood loyal and silent, aware of the turmoil I carried. The others, whose names I vaguely recalled, weren’t as important.
“You return to that farm and retrieve the girl,” I addressed Rhydan, my voice far steadier than my erratic heart. “Find Lilliana and bring her back to the palace by whatever means necessary.”
“Why aren’t you going?” Rhydan asked. The otherknights winced at his impudence, but neither of us spared it a second thought.
“After my injuries and everything I missed during my absence, the council and my aunt are doing everything in their power to keep me here.” My voice lowered, edged in severity. “But this task is of utmost importance. Keep it quiet and make it quick.”
The knights nodded with unquestioning obedience.
“Alright, my friend.” Though he looked hesitant, Rhydan complied. They departed, leaving me with the flayed knots of my desperate anticipation. In their absence, I paced the length of my office, my inner turmoil leaking out to the surface.
The kingdom of Elleslan was mine, gifted to me with the untimely death of a bastard I’d never known. But what was a throne, a crown, a kingdom when I felt like I had nothing of worth in her absence?
Days passed, and I wandered the sapphire halls of the castle like a specter, haunted endlessly by memories and doubts, by hope and lost possibilities. I balanced on the knife’s edge of insanity, consumed by imagined visions of seeing Lilly again, of the chance of reconciliation. Beneath that hope lingered the slithering, thorn riddled vines of anxiety that she would refuse me—that I had lost her permanently.
And I refused for that to be our reality.
Chapter Eight
Lilly
The spring rains brought another bout of cold weather from the snowy peaks of the distant mountains. Frigid, ghostly claws of fog crept over the field and pasture, leaving my world blanketed in a cloud of desolate cold. There was nobody to warm my bed, and no passion to ease the persistent ache in my chest. There was nothing for me but endless chilly days and sobbing until I made myself sick.
Since Ren—Soren—rode away, I’d forced myself back into some semblance of normalcy. It had taken two days for me to force food down, and a week to do more than feed the animals and sleep the hours away. Admittedly better than when father passed, and I didn’t know how to live on my own, struggling with the darkness for months.
I’d only recently learned how to live again when I found the man in the woods. A man who’d reinvigorated my heart and allowed me to feel things I’d never thought possible. But one who also lied about his identity and damaged me in the process.
Denying my own lies would make me a hypocrite. Although my dishonesty had saved my life in the end whereas Soren’s lies… I saw no reason for them. Perhaps I wasn’t worldly enough to understand his reasoning, but the king’s actions left me abandoned, sickened, and feeling used… spoiled.
It wasn’t my place to question a king. Even one as wicked as the Fairy Butcher.
Regardless of the time that had passed since the king’s departure from my humble farm, memories of his commanding presence lingered. There was no escaping the absurdity of the situation. More than once, I found myself staring at the barn, laughing insanely at the thought that a king—a king—had climbed up onto my barn roof and hammered away at all the broken bits.
And in the nights, his memory haunted my bed, like a salacious phantom beckoning me to revel in delicious sin. Regardless of the fact I’d returned to sleeping in the loft. My body burned, and my fingers itched to ease the wanton lust plaguing my insides.
Instead, I cried myself to sleep, dreaming of the faraway fairies in the fae wild as they drank and danced under mystically illuminated glades cut through with sparkling streams. In those dreams, I danced with my brethren, my kin, swaying and drinking and becoming utterly lost in the hedonistic revelry of the fae. Only they didn’t feel quite like dreams, more like some twisted reality. The echoes of dreams I’d yet to have.
My days on the farm became my dreams, and the nights with the fae were my new reality.
Through the lonesome rainy days, I contemplated abandoning the farm to find the fae wild. For the first time in my life, I truly considered leaving the only home I’d known. Maybe the fae would give me sanctuary, away from the humans—away from the Fairy Butcher, the man who broke my heart.
Questions pervaded my mind in the isolated hours of repetitive chores. Was my nymph mother dancing in a field of wildflowers somewhere? Had she loved my father, truly? Did she know he was dead? Was she thinking of me? Did she ever? Would she welcome me with open arms if I went in search of her?
As days passed, becoming weeks, more questions built up like a sickness within me. Was the king thinking of me? Had he loved me? Did I want him to? Was Soren Carnifex back in the capital, sitting upon his throne with a new woman warming his bed at night?
Why did that last one knot my intestines with green ribbons of envy? I hated that man, that bastard, that murderer…
