Page 45 of Glass and Bone
“Good.” I turn my head so I can kiss him. His lips are cold in comparison to the bath. I lift one of my wet hands and wrap it around the back of his neck, holding him to me. My lips part as an invitation, and he takes it. His hands move down to my hips, lifting me slightly. He closes his legs under me, so I am sitting on his lap, and I turn sloshing water over the side of the tub. His eyes widen in surprise as I straddle him.
I can feel the length of him softly brushing the apex of my thighs as I settle down into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he uses his hands to slightly move my hips back and forth. I arch my back as his bare skin rubs up against me. He moans across my lips, and I push myself harder against him, searching for friction. It isn’t sex, but it’s the closest I’ve let him get. His fingers tighten on my hips as I take control, moving them back and forth against him. I can feel the hard length of him sliding through my slit, hitting that little bundle of nerves with the tip. I jerk as a spike of pleasure radiates through my core.
“Ela, if you keep moving like that I’m not going to last long.” He says through panting breaths. I move faster, my lips forcing his to part. I feel needy, I feel desperate. I want it all and more.
“I don’t care.” I moan into his mouth. My core is heating, delicious pulsing pressure spreading straight down to my legs. I shift, wanting to keep the feeling, keep him, as close as possible.
“Fuck.” He whispers as I feel him shudder. His lips press against mine, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth as I open for him. I rub up against him, faster andharder. My breathing is coming in short pants as I tighten my legs, begging for more and more. The tip of him is pressing into my skin, into the right spot and I ride the waves of pleasure. I ridehimand I don’t care how selfish it makes me to not want to stop. I never want this to end. I can feel the pressure building and curling through my abdomen as I tighten my grip on his hair, forcing his lips back to mine.GodsI can’t get enough. I wantmore. I whimper against him as he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. “Ela.” He warns, but I still find a way to wiggle.
“No.” I whisper and push myself back against him.
“Ela,fuck.” His lips leave mine as he bites into my shoulder. I explode around him with a cry, and I can feel his body shaking in response. His arms tighten around me, forcing me to still, but I still rock my hips, riding the wave of heat spreading throughout my body. I’m panting, trying to get as much air in aspossible. His breathing is just as labored, but his arms are loosening. “This was just supposed to be a bath.” He mutters breathlessly and I can’t help but laugh.
*****
Dinner is served in the room as well and is brought in while Tobias and I are still lounging in bed with towels. He told me about his first time on Wyclif, when he was still young. He has always been wild and hard to control, but for some reason he connected to Tobias. However, his first time trying to ride him, Wyclif tossed him in a trough and then ran away from him, leaving him soaked and dirty and over a mile away from the palace.
I told him about Scarlett, Rhea, and Laenie and how close we’ve been since we were children. I told him how Laenie is obsessed with Ser Danieas’s brother, whom we call Lord Hairy. He thought that was funny, especially when I told him I didn’t actually know his name. The sun sets, darkness filling the room and I fall asleep still wrapped in my towel, my head in Tobias’s lap.
I knew without a doubt, this was the best birthday I’d had in ten years.
Chapter Nineteen
Tobias woke me up with kisses trailing down my arms, which led to another indescribable moment with his head between my legs. When he was done and we were tangled up together, a knock on the door ruins the moment and it takes everything in me not to throw something at the door.
“Come in.” Tobias calls out after pulling the blanket up and around my naked body. A page opens the door, wearing a red coat and a black tunic. His hair is a dark brown, his eyes nearly the same color, his skin a beautiful shade of russet, reddish-brown. He looks young, maybe my age, andveryuncomfortable. “What is it, Donovan?” Tobias’s soft and playful voice is replaced with one that is deeper, commanding. I can hear Donovan clearing his throat uncomfortably.
“I was t-told to inform you that, uh, you and M-miss, uh, Princess Elaenor, are to b-be, uh, wed in a f-few hours.” He stutters. Tobias doesn’t say anything, he just waves his hand. I can hear Donovan quickly shuffling out of the room, the door closing behind him. I can’t help but feel bad for him.
“Well, Ela, I believe it’s time for Lydia to make you into as much of a bride as she can.” He chuckles and I slap his chest before rolling on top of him and giving him a deep kiss. He groans against my lips, and I pull away, leaving him pouting.
Two ladies join Lydia in getting me ready. Her hands gently brushing oil into my hair and pinning braids in all directions. She’s keeping the majority of it down, which for once I enjoy. With my hair less unruly, I am becoming quite fond of the raven strands waving down my back. One of the other ladies, who won’t make eye contact with me, is adding color to my cheeks and lips. I am facing away from the mirror, so I am unsure of what the finished product will be, but I am trusting they won’t make me look like a jester. I was never allowed makeup at home, so I am uneasy about what it will look like on me.
I stare at the dress hanging on the bedpost as I am readied. I was expecting a white gown, as is tradition, but I was surprised when I was shown another crimson gown, a request of Evreux’s no doubt. This one littered with roses and crystals. A black lace train hooked around the waist and flowing behind. The sleeveless arms meeting a corset of my dreams. The silver detailing is gorgeous and reminds me of the imprints in the ceiling. I stare at this dress, one that is unlike anything I could have ever imagined, and it surprisingly looks familiar. I rack my brain trying to understand where I have seen it when I realize.
“It’s Queen Amaya’s wedding dress.” I whisper.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Lydia speaks as she gently lays a hand on my shoulder. Reaching up, I grasp her hand and squeeze, needing the support. With a final brush stroke on my lips, my hair and makeup are complete.
Guiding me out of my chair, I am assisted as I step into the blood tinted gown.I will never be free from this color.One of the ladies is slipping on my black heels as Lydia is tightening my corset with the help of the other. A soft knock on the door makes me look up as, to my surprise, Evreux walks in. His greedy gaze searches my body as he bites his bottom lip. I try to keep my expression stoic, but the way he looks at me, I know he senses my fear.
“Out.” He bellows. All three ladies bow and scurry out behind him, and I almost want to beg them to stay. Lydia gives me one last glance before shutting the door. I feel a weird sense of deja vu, but instead of my father, it’s Evreux. His eyes refuse to meet mine as he stares at the gown, his hands gripping a black, wooden box. His skin is getting paler by the day, and I can tell he’s tired. He’s wearing all black and a crimson cloak, matching me, as if we were the ones to be married. His eyes are hungry, his fingers flexing around the wood in his hands. “It fits you well.”
“This was Queen Amaya’s, wasn’t it?” I reply, willing my voice to steady. He smiles.
“Yes, but it wasmeantfor you.” His eyes meet mine as he takes a step towards me. Trying to hide my discomfort, and confusion, I turn away from his gaze and walk towards the mirror.
My cheeks are a faint pink, my eyes lined with kohl. My lashes are long and dark, brushing my cheeks with each blink. My bruises are hidden by thick layers of creams and powders and my lips are the same shade as the borrowed dress I currently wear. My hair is mostly down with a few braids pinned back with thin, silver rope that catches in the light. I look like my mother. My complexion is rosy from the few minutes of sun I got the other day, my blue eyes shining with thick lashes. I don’t feel like myself.
“Sit.” Evreux says from behind, quickly reminding me he’s here. I hesitantly do as he asks and sit in the chair in front of the mirror. He leans down, pressing his nose into my hair, inhaling. My breathing hitches as my body stills. “I have a present for you.” He whispers into my scalp. Straightening his back, he lifts the lid off the black box. I realize what it is immediately.
The silver thorns and vines intertwined with diamonds of all sizes. The diadem is dainty and thin, but captivatingly beautiful. My mother never had a crown, as far as I know, but if she did, I feel it would be just as beautiful. He lifts it out of the box and gently rests it on the top of my head, twisting it slightly so the little teeth at the bottom catch on my hair to hold it in place. It's heavier than I expected, adding resistance to every move of my head. Its crystals sparkle against the light filtering through the windows. I am in awe. A princess’s first diadem is a moment she will never forget, and I find myself hating that it was presented to me by Evreux.
“It’s–” I stutter, my fingers reaching up to brush one of the silver thorns. His hand quickly clasps around mine and tightens. “Ow, Evreux–'' I feel the cool metal pressing into the tips of my fingers and I wince.
“Don’t disappoint me.” Evreux whispers into my ear. Thorns piercing into my skin.
“You’re hurting me.” I whisper, tears welling up into my eyes. I can feel the blood trickling down my hand, and I can see a glimpse of the trail in the mirror in front of me, the blood staining the silver and ruining my ladies’ work. His nose presses into my neck, followed by his lips. He presses a firm and commanding kiss into my skin as I shut my eyes, willing it to stop. His free hand snaking around my chest, pulling me back against the chair.
