Page 16 of Return of the Darkness
“I couldn’t walk straight in the sand,” Larelle accepted his hand as Alvan led her up the stairs one step at a time.
“I think that’s the wine.”
“It was dark too!” Larelle exclaimed, tripping on the skirts of her dress.
“Maybe we should take a minute,” Alvan suggested before reaching their chambers. Larelle hummed in agreement as he turned her back to face the palace walls. The palace steps were much higher than those in her own castle, mainly because this one was built into the red canyon rock, offering a glimpse of the city rooftops over the boundary walls. Alvan sat on the top step and tugged gently on Larelle’s waist, guiding her to sit on the step below, between his legs.
Larelle felt the coolness of the mosaic tiles through her thin silk gown, but the warmth of Alvan’s arms soon distracted her when he embraced her from behind. With a content sigh, Alvan rested his chin on her head and she melted into his grasp. His embrace felt natural now, and her heart-rate spiked with excitement rather thananxiety. She no longer had to wonder what it meant. Reaching up, she stroked the veins and fine hairs on his arms, paying particular attention to his biceps. How had she never paid attention to how muscular he was before?
“What are you thinking about?” Alvan murmured into her hair. Larelle cleared her throat, fidgeting.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. Alvan pulled back slightly and freed one arm, keeping the other around Larelle, who continued tracing his skin. With his free hand, he reached up to tuck her curls behind her ear.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice hushed but close enough to tickle her neck with his breath. “It definitely sounds like your mind is preoccupied, or is it simply the wine again?” Alvan chuckled, threading his hands through her hair, twirling pieces around his finger as he did.
“Definitely the wine,” Larelle mumbled.
“You seem relaxed for the first time since the battle.”
“I spend every day worrying about someone or something. After Caligh left, it felt like I could breathe again, even for a moment. Instead of being a queen, I could just be myself before I must return to thinking of everyone else’s needs again.”
“You know you can always relax around me,” Alvan whispered, leaning to plant a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “Allow me to remind you to breathe when you are doing too much.” His hand moved her hair aside, freeing her neck and back. “Let me take away the world’s stresses when you are by my side each night.” Larelle’s heart fluttered, her skin suddenly sensitive beneath his touch. He moved his other arm from her grasp and trailed the back of his hand along hers before placing another kiss on her neck. “Let me be your sanctuary.” Another distracting kiss followed. Larelle tried to concentrate on the emerging stars in the sky rather than the twisting feeling of need within her—something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. But she needed this distraction. She needed a moment to not think of all the responsibilities her crownnow bore. Alvan’s hand was gentle but commanding as he grazed her chest and cradled her neck, tilting her chin up, forcing her eyes to his. “I will always worship you as a queen, but to me, you are just Larelle.” Alvan stroked her cheek, his expression serious. “My Larelle.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Larelle soaked up Alvan’s words, believing every syllable. She surrendered to the gentle caress of his kiss as he silently waited for permission to deepen it. Larelle kissed him back with desperation, and finally, she let herself breathe. His hand moved to the back of her neck, his firm grip making her squirm in anticipation.
“Let me worship you,” Alvan murmured. Twisting from his grip, Larelle faced him and knelt on the step below his, so his knees rested on either side of her hips. “You’re so beautiful,” Alvan whispered, devouring her body with his eyes as his hands came up to grasp her hips and pull her closer. “Where should I worship first?” Larelle opened her mouth, but no words escaped. “Should I start with your curves, which cast a silhouette every night as you walk onto the terrace at sunset?” He tightened his hold on her hips before trailing them up her side. Searching her eyes for permission, he brushed the side of her breast and gently grazed the thin silk clinging to her peaked nipples, betraying the calm she was trying to portray. Larelle swallowed loudly. “Or maybe this is where I should worship you first?” Larelle clung to his shoulders as his hands travelled over her body. She tilted her head back to grant greater access to her neck.
“Everywhere,” she finally whispered. Finally, Larelle surrendered to her wants as she moved to kiss him again, feeling everything she had wanted to since they reunited on the ocean floor. Larelle had faced loss, war, and too many deaths to count. Larelle would drown in Alvan every night until her last night on this earth. Life was too short to not experience such happiness.
Someone cleared their throat at the palace entryway. Larelle immediately withdrew from Alvan, who rose and stood beside his queen, keeping a respectable distance. Larelle smoothed down herdress and straightened, a queen yet again.
“I apologise for the interruption, your Majesty,” said one guard she knew from outside her chambers, not quite meeting her eyes.
“There is no need to apologise. What can I do for you?” she asked in her regal tone.
“The princess is asking for you,” he said before turning to escort the pair. Larelle frowned. Zarya never needed her in the middle of the night.
***
“I apologise, Larelle. I tried to calm her so you could have your evening to pay your respects, but she asked for only you. I didn’t want to wake Olden; he’s been so tired lately,” Lillian stammered, tightening the robe around herself as Larelle entered the chamber. Her friend’s blonde hair was dishevelled, having clearly been roused from sleep.
“It is perfectly fine, Lillian. Please, go back to sleep.” Larelle reassured her, approaching Zarya’s bed. Her daughter hid beneath the silk sheets, prompting a shiver from Larelle as she moved closer. The open balcony doors welcomed in the cool night breeze. Alvan strode to the adjoining doors to their chamber while Larelle perched on Zarya’s bed. A moment later, he wrapped a shawl around Larelle’s shoulders.
“I’ll be in our rooms,” he whispered, kissing Larelle’s forehead.
“No!” Zarya shouted from under the covers, having pulled the sheets all the way over her head. “Mr Alvan can stay.” Alvan said nothing else, but he pulled up a stool beside Larelle.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Larelle asked, reaching to pull the sheet from her daughter’s face.
“No!” Zarya shouted again before Larelle’s’ fingers grazed it. Zarya pulled it tighter around herself, and Larelle frowned. She removed her hand, abiding by her daughter’s request.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
“They don’t feel like nightmares,” Zarya mumbled. “They feel real.”
Larelle and Alvan exchanged a glance, frowning. “That’s why nightmares are so scary, because we cannot tell if they are real or not,” Larelle said gently.
“He said it was real,” Zarya mumbled. Larelle was still, and Alvan straightened, glancing around the room. The thought of a man speaking with her daughter at night made her heart sink and her hands clam up.
