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Opal
A rooster crowed hours too early, and I shifted closer against a hard chest.
On the fringes of sleep, I felt his finger trail up and down the indent of my spine while he whispered barely-there words to my hair.
Through the tiny cracks in his voice, I heard, “I’m sorry.”
I fought the urge to tumble into dreams, listening, trying to make out more of what he was saying. “I’m sorry”—his lips pressed to my forehead—“for taking him from you, for breaking your heart before I thought myself worthy of it, before I knew better.” A heavy exhale stirred my hair, heated my skin. “Before I knew what it was to love.”
Though closed, my eyes burned along with the battered organ in my chest. His touch lulled, his repeated murmurings singed, and I didn’t know anything anymore, but when he whispered, “Sleep, swan,” I let myself drift away from it all while still trapped within his arms.
Morning arrived with a bang, the door rattling.
And a male sprawled on his side, head propped on his hand and staring down at me, his legs tangled with mine.
Mine, echoed throughout my blood.
I’d done something insane in accepting that, this bond, yet staring at him, those adoring ice-blue eyes, it felt like one of the best things I’d ever done.
A right I never want to get wrong.
I reached for him, for the patch of sunlight sliding over his tousled white-blond hair to touch his sculpted cheek, that dimple.
The bang came again as Dade drawled, “Your mother wishes to see you.”
Shit. Where were my clothes? I rolled to the edge of the bed, Dade’s soft chuckle behind me, and snatched my torn dress from the ground. “Thank you for your help,” I said, sarcasm heavy.
Dade’s finger appeared over my shoulder, my undergarments hanging from it. I snatched those too, quickly stepping into them and tugging them up my legs.
He hissed, “Stars, that ass.”
I glared at him, but it softened when I saw the heat in his eyes, that bare chest I longed to rake my fingers down, to feel every ridge like a washboard beneath my—
“Opal,” my mother shouted through the wood. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.”
The king bit his lips and rolled over to drag his pants on while I stuffed my arms through the dress and raced for the comb on my dressing table. It was a little dusty, but I had to wash my hair anyway and pulled it through the knotted and sweat marred strands while hurrying to the door.
I paused, looking back at the bed.
Dade smirked, sprawled over it on his side again, bare-chested, but at least his pants were on. “Shirt,” I whispered.
He made a face that said he didn’t quite catch what I said, and I made one back that said he was a damned liar. He laughed again while I undid the locks and opened the door.
In my haste to get somewhat presentable, I hadn’t fathomed what it would feel like to lay eyes upon her again. My mother’s hair, a shade darker than mine, was pulled back into a tight bun at her nape, not a honeyed strand out of place, and those same colored eyes…
Fury melted from them, and I was pulled into her arms. I hugged her back, inhaling her lemon and rose scent and clutching her tighter than I ever had before.
Rearing back, she sniffed, her hands still upon my arms, but her eyes fixed beyond me.
Upon the half-naked king on my bed.
Queen Nikaya was no fool. She could scent it as well as see it all over us, yet she said nothing. She just stared, too long and too hard for me to think any good would come from it.
No good would ever come from her and Dade looking at one another.
He’d killed her mate.
And I’d just made my father’s killer mine.
Dizziness swamped me. As if sensing it, my mother swallowed and promptly patted her hands over my cheeks, shoulders, arms. “You’re okay?” Those hands shook, rising to my face again and holding it. “You’re okay.”
“I am,” I confirmed. “Mother, Prince Bron…”
“I know all about the cretin and all about the larger one who stole you from them.” Her voice deepened to a low growl. “From me.”
“I fear I simply had to wreck your plans, Nikaya.”
I winced. Shit.
“You,” she seethed, pushing past me. “You will rot in the deepest, darkest depths of—”
“Mother,” I snapped, taking her arm before she drew any closer to my bed. “Enough. We have an agreement.” I didn’t look at Dade, found I couldn’t when my mother’s eyes fell upon me, tear-soaked with rage. I took her other hand, imploring, “I have made an agreement, and we must not break it.” I said those last words slowly, carefully, begging her to rid her mind of revenge and schemes. “Please.”
Her eyes swam over my face, her fingers shaking as her lips parted, and she again looked back at the king. Her eyes closed as she turned away. “Breakfast in twenty minutes. Just you.”
Then she was gone.
I stared after her, then swung the door closed with a thought and pushed my hands into my hips.
My hung head snapped up, lips curling into a sneer when Dade muttered lazily, “So that went pretty well.”
“You should go now,” I said, traipsing to the bathing room as everything he made me forget threatened to reduce my heart to ashes. “Do your disappearing act.”
“Opal,” he called, a warning within not to walk away, one that hinted at him knowing I wasn’t so sure about any of this anymore.
Not when my mother’s pain lingered in the room with the cause of it.
“Please,” I demanded, then I closed the bathing room door.
A knock sounded, and I sank deeper into the bubbles, my knees tight to my chest. “I told you to—”
“Princess?” Linka.
I nearly jumped from the tub, but she cracked open the door before I could, one bright blue eye peering inside and widening when she saw me.
She opened, then closed the door and cupped her hands over her mouth. “You’re here. You’re really, really here.”
She rushed to hug me, forgetting I was naked, then retreated, her cheeks turning a dark pink as we both laughed. “I’m here.”
She lowered to the stone floor, her apron spilling around her, and gaped.
“How are you?” I asked, deciding I’d better wash myself and get to this breakfast before my mother came in search of me again.
“Me?” Linka almost shrieked. “How are you? Oh, my stars. What did he do to you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, understanding her concern, for I would feel the exact same way. I squeezed the cloth out and hung it over the side of the tub, offering her a small smile. “I’m truly fine.”
“But,” she started, sputtering out, “Queen Nikaya says you plan to marry the crimson king. How in the stars are you fine?”
“Because,” I said, searching for the right words. I wouldn’t go around flashing the fact I’d found a mate in our sworn enemy. That would not be helpful, nor would it be wise. “It is the right thing to do. The only thing to do,” I added when it looked as though she’d protest. “So fetch me a drying cloth, please. We have a kingdom to rescue via marriage.”
Linka’s eyes bulged, but she laughed when I did, then fetched me one from the shelves by the door, unfolding it as I climbed out. She studied me as I wrapped myself and walked into the bedroom.
No king. I was both thankful and a little disappointed.
“You seem… different,” Linka observed, heading to my bed before I could stop her. “And why did I catch a whiff of sex…” Her eyes grew impossibly huge then, and I stopped outside the dressing room, hoping she would say no more.