House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

31. CHAPTER 31

31

VALERIA

“Alas, I cannot choose. Our saints, the one god of Los Moros, or the many of the fae. Yet, I’ve made peace with all the choices and so will everyone else. We will not quarrel over religion.”

Rey Alfonso Plumanegra (Casa Plumanegra) - King of Castella - 591 DV

U nder this rooftop haven and the burning clouds, our swords clash. The sun sets over the sprawling city below, its warm, golden hue dimming slowly. A breeze sweeps through, carrying the scent of jasmine and rose.

Bastien, rugged in his guard uniform, exudes confidence, his dark eyes locked onto mine. I meet his gaze. I want to make him pay for his relentless pursuit of me, for his inflexible adherence to orders, for the way his lips are always sealed even though his eyes seem to tell me he’s holding back.

I leap back, my off arm extended backward for balance. Members of the Guardia Real have perfect form, and he’s not the exception.

Fluidly, I twirl my rapier, daring Bastien to make the next move. He strikes. I parry, my footwork lithely putting some distance between us. I feint. He retreats a step and makes an approving sound at my display of skill .

He, a highly-ranked cadet, is caught off guard by my agility. What he doesn’t know is that I also learned from the best, and I learned to be precise, but also unpredictable.

Our rapiers clash again, sparks flying. I push the attack, drawing closer. Bastien’s muscled body moves with grace, parrying my strikes. The tension grows thick between us.

Like two dancers following an unheard tune, we move across the courtyard, our feet barely making a sound over the cobbles. Our swords are another story, though. They sing as they meet, their shrill voices gradually growing quiet when we pull apart and reassess.

Sweat breaks along my hairline and trickles down my back. My limbs tingle with energy. I feel alive, and everything else is forgotten. Only this moment matters. Only beating Bastien and making him pay in this small way matters.

A breathless flurry of quick exchanges follows. I anticipate every strike and dance out of the way. His attacks come more swiftly. He aims at my upper chest and springs forward. I react instinctively, redirecting his blade to the side with a well-practiced circular motion.

With his attack deflected, I seize the opportunity. My riposte is immediate, a lightning-fast counterattack. I lunge forward, extending my arm and blade just below his protective guard. My body is fully engaged in the motion, and my blade finds its mark, making contact with the target area with a satisfying clink . The impact is controlled but forceful, a testament to the hours of training and muscle memory.

“I won,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I said to the floor, not to the touch.”

I huff. “Convenient. But have it your way.”

He probably anticipated I would be faster than him. His muscular bulk makes him slow. That is why he called to the floor instead. But no matter. The bigger they are, the harder they fall .

I’m ready for our next exchange in this intricate dance of blades. He’s a more challenging opponent than Amira. I’ll give him that.

Just to make a point, and so there is no doubt in his mind as to who is better, I go for another touch, this time higher. With a swift move, I graze his cheek with the tip of my rapier, leaving a mark. He touches two fingers to his face and is momentarily stunned by the sight of blood.

Narrowing his eyes, he lunges at me. I parry and lightly jump back out of his way, my feet moving as if the steps belong to a well-memorized waltz. He follows, and I have him right where I want him. I seize my chance and lunge, rapier aimed at his throat. He’s forced to take a step back.

I know each of this courtyard’s cobblestones by heart. Maybe it’s an unfair advantage, but he asked for it. Right behind him, there is a stone slightly uneven with the rest. The back of his heel connects with it, and he loses his balance. He is agile and immediately tries to compensate in order to keep his footing, except I won’t let him.

I press my advantage, my rapier pointed straight at his heart this time. His dark eyes signal the very instant he knows he has lost, but there is something else in that inscrutable gaze, a combination of pride and relentless determination. He isn’t the type to accept defeat.

He’s fast as he reaches over and seizes my wrist with his offhand. My heart races as Bastien’s warm fingers tighten around me, pulling me close. My body crashes against his, and we fall. His back hits the ground. Our rapiers clatter, discarded. I’m on top of him, practically straddling his well-muscled body, which I can feel along every inch of my own.

Our gazes meet. The air seems to crackle.

The heat of embarrassment starts climbing up my neck, but I won’t let this awkwardness spoil my win. With a quick, fluid movement, I draw the dagger I took from the armory and raise it. Right as I’m on the verge of pressing the blade to his neck, he deftly entangles his legs with mine, seizes my wrist, and rolls .

Now, he’s on top, and I’m pinned underneath, his hips ensconced between my legs, his nose nearly touching mine. His eyes fall to my lips. Our chests rise and fall in unison as our breaths mingle, creating an intoxicating blend. The air itself is electrified.

Bastien’s expression is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in him. There is a mixture of emotions washing over him, some appear to be the same ones churning within me at this very moment, but there are others I cannot decipher.

The sun has dipped lower on the horizon, bathing us in a deeper shade of gold. His eyes burn brightly as our lips remain tantalizingly close.

I feel him grow between my legs, pressing against my middle. A delicious sensation such as I’ve never felt floods my body, and I suddenly realize I want him to kiss me.

I want my first kiss to come from his chiseled lips.

Oh, gods!

My eyes flutter closed of their own accord. I’m feeling as if I’m about to float straight to the sky from ecstasy, when he jumps to his feet, leaving me bereft on the ground. My lids spring open. I jerk to a sitting position and wrap tense arms tightly around my chest, as if I’m covering my nakedness. I’m fully dressed, yet I feel exposed.

Before he turns away, I notice the erection tenting his pants. It’s… it’s… I don’t know what it is, but I’m intimidated by the size.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds angry.

At me? At himself? I have no idea because all I see is his back and the tension across his wide shoulders.

“That was… inappropriate,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “It will never happen again. Once more, my apologies.”

He still doesn’t face me. He only turns his head slightly to show his profile .

My embarrassment grows. I have no idea what to call or even think of what just transpired. My brain struggles to process it and put a name to it.

When we first started sparring, there was only my anger, but as the tension dissipated, something else came to the surface. I was exhilarated by the intensity of our match and our proximity. Then our bodies collided, we became one, and a different emotion came over me: desire. Yes, that’s what it was. I’ve never felt it before, but I recognized it. And I know he felt it, too. He can’t deny it. The physical proof is evident.

Inappropriate , he said, but isn’t that for me to decide?

Slowly, I climb to my feet and take a step in Bastien’s direction. His head snaps forward, away from me, and an invisible wall seems to appear between us. His rejection is like a punch to the gut. My anger reappears, and it’s worse than ever.

“You lost,” I snap, wishing to humiliate him the way he has humiliated me with his rejection. “And you’re a sore loser.”

He says nothing.

I pick up my sword, and as I wrap my hand around the hilt, I try to draw strength from it, willing its steel to enfold my heart. I don’t like what I’m feeling. Not at all.

As I walk past him, I keep my head high. Before opening the door, I pause with a hand on the knob and glance back. Bastien is facing me now, though he still isn’t meeting my gaze.

“Please deliver a message for me,” I say coldly. “Tell Don Justo I’ll meet him for breakfast tomorrow again.”

“Yes, princess,” he responds, eyes reflecting what little light is left on the darkening horizon.

I don’t lose my composure until I hang the rapier in the armory. After that, I start down the hall, my strides picking up speed until I’m running .

I’m so confused. I’ve attended many balls where good-looking, eligible bachelors vied for my attention, and I’ve never felt even a fraction of what I felt on that roof.

When I reach my bedchamber, I slam the door shut. I feel as if something has been building inside me since the day I met Bastien, and I haven’t been aware of it. Or maybe I’ve subconsciously camouflaged my emotions as animosity. I’ve been too busy trying to hate him, but the truth is that I’m attracted to him.

“Oh, gods! Why now? As if I already don’t have enough trouble.”

“Troublemaker,” Cuervo croaks from the balcony.

I can barely see his silhouette against the darkening sky. Shoulders slumped, I walk out there.

Troublemaker . Father sometimes said that was my middle name. He said it enough times that Cuervo learned the word.

“Maybe Father was right, Cuervo. Maybe I am a troublemaker. I think I’ve just made the situation entirely more complicated than it needs to be.”

Cuervo bobs his head up and down, as if agreeing with me.

“Saints and feathers! With a friend like you who needs enemies?”

I leave him behind and take a hot, hot bath, submerging my head and shutting my eyes to the world.

Scrubbing with vigor, I try to wash away the lingering feeling of Bastien’s body on top of mine, but I only manage to send an electrifying jolt down to my core, one that even makes my nipples pebble into points.

Gods! What is this feeling?

Nana tried to explain, but either her words were lacking the right descriptive quality or my imagination had no way of conjuring the precise notion. Either way, if this is the way attraction between a man and a woman is supposed to feel, I’m doomed.

I get out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Involuntarily, my feet take me to the door, where I press a palm flat on the wood and listen .

Somehow I know Bastien is standing out there. The ludicrous idea of walking out wearing only this towel, hair dripping wet, assaults me.

“A woman must remain chaste for her husband ,” Nana’s voice echoes inside my head.

During those lessons, Amira and I always scoffed and argued that if the same requirement isn’t set on men, women shouldn’t have to adhere to it. Nana is a liberal woman, and we know she agreed with us, even if she never said so. She always kept her lessons proper as she was supposed to do, but we know better.

Amira isn’t chaste by any stretch of the imagination. She’s had several trysts with men she’s felt attracted to.

“ If you find someone who makes you feel star bursts right here, ” Amira pointed at her chest after telling me about one of her escapades, “ you go for it, little sister. You don’t listen to that nonsense about chastity. ”

I agreed with her at that moment. The problem… I’d never felt anything remotely like a star burst. Not until today, and I’m afraid. This feels too immense to control, too deep not to fall and get lost forever.

Turning, I press my back to the door and slide to the floor.

“I have no time for star bursts,” I mumble. “Now I need an eclipse.”