House of the Raven (The Eldrystone #1)

33. CHAPTER 33

33

VALERIA

“I told him it was called an eclipse, but the ignorant peasant insisted it was an omen from the saints.”

Ibn Ziyad - Moro Astronomer - 103 BV

T he engagement ball is in two days. I don’t know how I will manage to go through with it. My nightmares have gotten worse, and I feel as if I’m waiting for something: my inevitable drowning, perhaps.

Momentum is building. The tension rides the air like an electric current, a storm brewing inside of Nido that will soon unleash itself.

I know I have to do something, but what? So far my efforts have yielded nothing. I didn’t even find out about the council’s concerns.

Standing alone on the balcony of my bedchamber, I glance toward the observatory. It is nighttime and moonlight refracts from the larger pieces of glass, behemoths bigger than the tallest buildings in the city.

Maybe the Eldrystone is the answer to everything. I might be able to use it to find Orys and free my sister from his hold. But I must admit I fear it. I fear being unable to wield it. I fear delivering it into the wrong hands. I fear being ensnared by its power .

Maybe it would be best if The Eldrystone is forever lost because how could greed for its power not bring about more tragedy than it already has?

A warm breeze blows my hair, and I close my eyes and inhale. It is past midnight, and my exhaustion runs bone deep. I should be in bed, but I’m afraid of the dreams that will inevitably come. Begrudgingly, I get in bed and slip under the covers. When sleep finally takes me, the nightmare inevitably comes.

Bastien and I spar under the twilight sky. Beautiful colors glimmer in our blades as steel meets steel. We dance. We push into each other, lean closer and closer, our gazes locked. My arms and my heart tremble. We push, jump back, and begin a new dance.

I want our dance to last forever, but a voice beckons me. I follow it. The voice grows desperate as I walk through Nido’s halls, many of them unrecognizable. I thought I’d explored every corner of the massive palace, but I’m lost, and nowhere closer to the voice, to Amira. She’s calling for help!

I reach a closed door. The walls around it throb, as if built around a beating heart. Rivulets of blood begin seeping from the wood and stone. Desperately, I pull on the doorknob, calling out my sister’s name. The door doesn’t budge. My hands slip, sticky blood soaking them. I try again. The door breaks open. A wave of blood slams into me, flushes me down the corridor. I sputter, coughing crimson. Something hits me. I claw at my eyes to clear them.

A set of wide-open eyes stare at me from a pool of blood. They belong to Amira.

BASTIE N

I slip into Valeria’s bedchamber as I’ve done every night since she’s been back. Moving quietly through the shadows, I search the area for signs of the amulet. My eyes rove over every surface: night tables, vanity, mantel, armchairs. It’s unlikely she would leave it lying around, but I can’t be too thorough. I peruse her closer for a moment, then approach her bed.

There’s no sign of the amulet on her pillows or bedding. The hope is that she will retrieve it, tempted by the desire to test its power, and what better time to do it than at night? But so far, there’s been no sign of it, not even when I search the room more closely when she’s not here.

I’m about to retreat when she begins breathing hard. Her arms thrash, pushing away the covers. It appears as if she’s having a dream of some kind. She wears a silk gown that sticks to her, outlining her body.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath. Don’t look. Don’t look.

It’s what I tell myself every night as I’m tempted to watch her sleep and contemplate her beautiful features without reverse.

But like every night, I fail, and this time, it’s not only her face I admire.

Guilt tears through my chest as I follow the flawless shape of her breasts through the thin silk. My mouth goes dry, and my fingers twitch. I want to reach out and touch her.

I want so much more than that.

Her mouth parts and a small moan escapes her. I lick my lips and wonder what it would feel like to kiss her, to slip my tongue in and taste her.

Shaking my head, I take a step back.

No. You can’t. Don’t be fooled. Don’t lose sight of why you’re here. She is no different than the rest.

VALERIA

I sit up with a start, my silk gown sticking to my body. At first, I’m disoriented, but some survival instinct sends a jolt of energy straight to my chest, telling me there’s danger. My still-blurry eyes scan the room.

A shadow looms nearby.

I go for the knife under my pillow, but the figure, a man, jumps on top of me and restrains my arms with his knees as he straddles me. He presses a hand to my mouth, stifling my scream.

“Shh, it’s me, Bastien,” he says. “Don’t scream or you’ll get half the Guardia Real in here.”

Buckling, I curse from behind his hand, but the insults I’ve directed at his mother come out muffled. I’m angry. Beyond angry. I’m going to kick his ass. Again.

“I thought I heard something,” he says, “and I came to check, but I think… you were having a bad dream.”

I’m breathing hard, but I make a conscious effort to calm down. When I do, he slowly lifts his hand and shifts his weight from my arms, setting me free. He watches me carefully, as if he expects me to start screaming at any moment, but all I can do is grind my teeth.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“I will be once you get off me,” I sneer.

“Are you sure you want me to do that?” His voice grows husky.

I’m taken aback. Ever since our sparring match, he has shown me little more than indifference, and now he’s here—not only inside my bedchamber but in my bed and on top of me. Part of me wants to shove him away with matching indifference, but a bigger part wants the exact opposite. Despite myself, I find my anger morphing into exhilaration.

My heart pounds harder. I want to grab his jacket and pull him towards me, let him be my first kiss. But I won’t make it so easy for him. He has to shed some of his pride and propriety, if he wants this, and from the hungry look in his eyes, I think he does .

“Are you really here because you heard something?” I ask.

“Of course.”

I’m not sure if I believe him. “And does ensuring my safety involve you straddling me in my bed?”

He’s serious at first, then a lopsided smile stretches his mouth. “Certainly.”

“No, Don Bastien. It does not, and I highly doubt they taught you that at the Academia de Guardias. So why are you doing this?” Now, my own voice is husky and suggestive.

“Well, you were reaching for the knife you keep under your pillow. I might be dead if I hadn’t acted quickly.”

“I’ll grant you that, but I’m not trying to kill you now, and you’ve had plenty of time to get off my bed. So what is this all about?”

“All right, princess, I’ll tell you what you want to hear.” His voice is a rumbling whisper that feels like a caress over my skin. “But you should know that my job isn’t easy. It hasn’t been since the first day I laid eyes on you. In fact, I think I’m in an unfair position.”

My chest is visibly moving up and down. The intense way he’s looking into my eyes, the heat of his body close to mine, the caressing timbre of his words… I’m a feather drifting in a breeze of his making.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, princess. I stand out there, wondering what you’re doing behind the closed door, wishing I could be in here instead. For days, you’ve been the only thing on my mind.” He pauses. “There it is. Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy? The lowly guard is obsessed with you?”

He starts to move off, his expression now angry. Is the idea that I’m a princess and he’s my guard really what bothers him? Something tells me there’s more to it, but what?

I snatch a fistful of his jacket and force him to stay.

“Kiss me, Bastien,” I say, hoping that the invitation will break down the imaginary barriers he sees between us .

He hesitates.

“I want you to be the first man to kiss me,” I add, my voice carrying a slight edge of desperation.

His eyebrows go up, revealing his surprise.

“It’s true. No one has ever kissed me, and I want it to be you. It doesn’t matter what happens afterward. Tonight, I want it to be you.”

Slowly, he moves back to hover directly on top of me. He wets his lips, the tip of his tongue traveling along the length of his upper lip. The small action sends a lighting jolt to my core, the same sensation I felt the other day, and I have a name for it now: lust. It’s delicious, and I want more of it.

Bastien tilts his head to one side and very slowly lowers his mouth to mine. There is conflict in his eyes, and I fear that at any moment, he’ll pull away. I want him desperately to stay, and this is not wholly up to him. To prove that, I lick my lips the same way he did.

With a rumbling growl in the back of his throat, he drapes his body over mine, his mouth capturing my own.

I meet his kiss with as much fervor as he offers me. His mouth explores mine as if to memorize it, tracing my top and bottom lips. I do my best to memorize him as well. That chiseled mouth is on mine, and I’m filled with awe because I wanted this and thought it would never happen.

Just when I think it could not feel any better, his tongue slips in and brushes against mine. I let out a breathless gasp. Encouraged, he deepens his kiss, his tongue flicking over the corners of my mouth, the length of my bottom lip, then it slips back inside, expertly stroking with a suggestion of more, but what else could that possibly be?

The tips of my breasts are tight. Something is building inside me, and I want the more his tongue seems to promise.

His hands move up and down my sides. I grab one of them and slowly slide it toward my chest. He seems to fight me for a split second, then his large hand cups my breast, covering it in its entirety. He squeezes, and I arch against him. His thumb traces circles around my nipple, and when it’s as hard as it can possibly get, he flicks it, making me moan.

All the while, he’s kissing me, but he has abandoned my mouth and he’s tracing my jaw, moving upward until he nibbles on my earlobe.

I never knew one could feel so much. Star bursts are nothing compared to this. And it doesn’t stop there. He shows me more as he kisses his way down my throat, my collarbone, the edge of my gown, and the swell of my breasts.

“Bastien,” I moan his name.

He freezes, his mouth hovering over my breastbone, his breath just as out of control as mine. After several deep breaths, he slowly pushes away and slides off the bed.

I sit up with a jolt, feeling as if he has taken all the warmth with him.

“What is it?” I reach out a hand. “Please, come back.”

Turning to face the balcony, he shakes his head. “It’s not proper.”

“The hells with proper! It’s right. It feels right.”

Another shake of his head. “It’s not right.”

“Why? Because I’m a princess? Because I’m supposed to get engaged the day after tomorrow?”

“That and many other reasons.”

“None of that matters. I know you want me, and I want you. What could be more right than that?”

I push the covers away and get out of bed. My feet pad over the soft carpet.

I take his hand and stand next to him. He’s looking out the open balcony door. Dark gray clouds meander across the night sky. I interlace my fingers with Bastien’s. The strength of his hand is comforting around mine. Despite the desire burning inside me, despite how close we were, I feel the same barrier between us.

I don’t trust him, and I wonder if things would be different under other circumstances, if Father was still here, if my life hadn’t changed its course. There’s no way of knowing. There’s no way to dispel this pervasive doubt that casts a shadow over every action I take.

“Danger lurks, Val,” he says in an eerily low whisper. “I can feel it in the air.”

Cold fingers slide down my back, and I have to clench my teeth not to shiver.

He turns, and we face each other. Gently, he presses his mouth to my forehead. “Ready yourself.” Letting go of my hand, he bows, then leaves the room.

The door barely makes a sound as he eases it closed, yet a sense of finality washes over me. Unmoving, I stand in the darkness, the delicious feeling of Bastien’s presence and the weight of his body on mine fading one beat at a time, retreating until it feels completely out of reach.