Page 54 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
I force that thought away and finish the letter by simply signing my name. If it is considered rude, well, I’ve been locked up in a tower for nearly twenty-two years, so surely they will show me some understanding. Keeping the letter on the tea table for Flynn to deliver, I sit on the couch with Bella—a book in my hands to distract me. The sunset eventually gives way to night, and when it’s too dark to see the words on the page, I light candles all around the room. I’ll have to ask Flynn to bring me more, as I have never used this many at once.
When his knocks finally sound, my pulse increases as I run my fingers through my hair to smooth it out and straighten my dress. My nerves leave me feeling frazzled, even my magic coils inside me in anticipation. But that excitement is momentarily clouded with guilt, like fog rolling in from all angles and covering those caged emotions as they rattle again to remind me that they are still there. My promise to Alexi replays in my mind.
Still, when I open the door to him standing on the landing, there is no stopping the way my stomach dips and my breath hitches. His eyes catch mine as they always do, and like those galaxies I see in my dreams, I’m powerless against their pull. He smiles, and the fullness of it causes my already pounding heart to skip a beat in its flutter. He’s dressed in all black again today, though I swear his tunic is tighter along his chest and biceps.Breathe, Rhea.As if waiting for the command, my lungs suck in a shaky gasp of air.
“Hello, Sunshine,” he says, walking through the doorway as I step back to give him room.
“Hello, Fly—” My words are halted when he pulls something out of a black satchel he has with him. He holds a small glass bowl that’s illuminated with a bright golden light. It subtly lights a small portion of the room instantly in a liquid golden color, like Flynn has pulled a tiny chunk of the sun down into this very space.
“It’s a flame gem,” he says, walking over to the tea table and setting it down. The gem is no bigger than a small pebble, but it casts enough light that everything within a three foot radius is lit. “I figured you would enjoy having a light that you can move around with you more easily but that won’t be seen from the castle. You’ll have to charge it in the sunlight during the day and then use this cloth to cover it at night when you’re ready for bed.” He lays down a small square of black fabric next to it on the table, his eyes moving to mine.
My hands are layered over my chest, feeling the thump of my heart as I look at the gem. Pure joy tugs the corners of my lips as I laugh, thinking about how much easier it will be to read at night. How I won’t have to huddle up to a small candle flame to try and make out the words on the page. My heart flips at the idea that he thought of me while finding this gem—one I didn’t believe wasreal. He had said they were difficult to get, so I wonder how he came across this one. When I look at him to thank him, the words get caught in my throat. He looks at me with wide eyes, an astonished gleam to them.
I lift a brow and gesture towards the table. “Why do you look so surprised?” I ask. Confused, I turn my head to look around the tower, trying to see what he sees. I’m not sure I could ever see this place as more than just a cold, suffocating prison, but I suppose the golden light pouring out of the gem does cast a pretty glow against the stones. “You said these gems were all over the castle, yes?” I ask lightly.
“I have never seen you smile like that before,” he says, voice gravelly and much closer behind me.
I gaze over my shoulder, having to tilt my head back to look at him. His dark irises sparkle—flecks of silver mixed into the slate color reflecting the gem’s light.
“You missed a few buttons on your dress,” he whispers.
Excitement tingles my fingers and knots my stomach as I nod my head at my purposeful mistake. I don’t know what possessed me to wear a dress I could barely reach all the buttons for, but as I slipped it on earlier, I had the idea that maybe if I left a few undone, Flynn would notice. Like he did the first time we met when I was too nervous and heartbroken to let him near. But now, every time I picture him, a need once foreign to me claws up my throat. I should ignore it; a relationship of any kind is forbidden. Forbidden by the king, forbidden by the fact that he is supposed to be my guard, forbidden bycommon sense. And yet…
“I did,” I counter with equal quiet.
Two words, yet it feels like the world pauses at them. He takes a step closer until there’s only a small space separating us, the heat from his body caressing the skin on my back. He doesn’t say anything or reach out to touch me, waiting for me to give him permission. Flynn’s always been so attentive to my reactions around physical touch, but right now, all I can focus on is how near he is to me and how I’m silently begging him to move even closer.
“I need you, Flynn,” I breathe out the words, my heart racing and blood pounding in my ears, “to help.”
His eyes grow impossibly darker as he inhales a sharp breath. The air feels thick around us, my body buzzing from his proximity. I’m acutely aware of the naked skin on my upper back, though I feel like so much more is exposed. Tension builds like that of a thunderstorm—taut, electrifying, and wild. I look away from him as he slowly and gently gathers up my long hair. His fingertips graze the base of my neck when he bundles the strands to one side and drapes them over my shoulder. Heat follows where his skin meets mine, yet shivers break out over my body. Deliberately, leisurely, his deft hands work to put all the remaining buttons through their matching loops, pausing longer than necessary on the last one. Breathing deeply, I’m surrounded by that incredible scent of his—it’s crisp and clean and wholly like a breeze that’s been scraped along the nearby trees.
“You look so beautiful.” His voice is a low, decadent ribbon that slowly and seductively wraps around me. “Do you want to dance?”
I still as panic flares within me. “I don’t know how to dance,” I rasp, nerves causing my hands to tremble.
“I will show you.” His fingers grip mine slowly before he walks around to face me. My smooth skin brushes against the calluses of his palms, and a curious ache to ask him how he got them blooms in my stomach. Is it strange to want to know everything about him? To have the desire to spend hours talking about his past or what he likes to do for fun or his favorite food? My face feels flushed at the thought as I tilt my head up to look at him. Taking in my expression, his hand tightens on mine. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his chin dipping and causing the strands of dark hair hanging over his forehead to rustle.
“I do,” I exclaim quickly, “it’s just… what if I’m terrible at it?”
“Then I’ll help you get better,” he answers, his smile bright even in the subtle light. And isn’t that the truth of it—of how he treats me? I have been shaped and molded by the confines of this prison all my life. Beaten and broken by a man with no compassion or love for me. But I never get the sense that Flynn wants to form me into anything other than who I already am. As if this splintered and heartbroken version of me is exactly what he wants. He doesn’t want to change me; he only wants to help. “Besides, I’m good enough to counteract how bad you will be.”
I scoff, slapping his arm playfully as he places his hand on my lower back. The touch is light, barely any pressure, and yet it’s all I can focus on. My chest rises and falls in harsh movements as I lean into him a little more.
“Put the hand I’m not holding on my shoulder,” he instructs. I do as he says, my fingers pushing onto the fabric of his tunic and into the hard muscle underneath. “This is called a box step waltz,” he says before launching into the details of the dance and how I am to move my feet. I fail on the first few attempts, constantly tripping over myself and him. Flynn enjoys it when I mess up though, and part of me wonders if it’s because he gets to catch and balance me when I’m about to fall over. Or maybe it’s because of the way I laugh at myself in embarrassment as I trip, his eyes lingering on my mouth when I do. As moments pass, we move closer and closer. His large hand engulfs mine as he holds it tenderly to his chest.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, trying not to focus too hard on how I need to move my feet.
“My parents made me take dancing lessons when I was younger,” he says, laughing at the surprised look on my face. He continues to guide my steps, our pace beginning to quicken.
“What are they like?” I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface of knowing who Flynn is, despite our letter passing and time together. It’s like every part of me is begging to find all the details that shine a light on who he is. I want to know everything.
His head tilts to the side in contemplation, his eyes gleaming and looking just past me, as if he can see his parents here now. “My mother is very kind and empathetic. She’s soft-hearted but fiercely protective. My father is patient, loving, incredibly smart, and devoted. They were wed relatively young but fell in love at first sight,” he chuckles, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Or so they say.”
I hum in response, dropping my gaze to his chest. “I wish I had gotten to know my parents,” I whisper, my feet now moving to the steps of the dance without conscious thought. I dance on the tips of my toes, and because of Flynn’s height, my eyes are in perfect alignment with his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he says gently, offering support in his words without trying to fix what can’t be undone. My dress flutters around my legs as I move through the waltz. A content silence blankets us, the flame gem and candles illuminating the space with golden light. It is all too fantastical—to be here in this moment with him.
“I think I like dancing after all,” I beam, shifting the conversation. His lips part and his eyes search mine as our bodies continue moving. The attention from him makes me feel warm and cared for, like a rose tended to in a garden.
