In the kingdom of Aeziris, a rebellion is rising, but its reins are not in the hands of its citizens. With a fine string entwining her heart with that of its chieftain, Esméralda must walk a knife-edge while navigating her way through a palace of ma...
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E s m é r a l d a A l b y
Sunlight was strong in my face, making me frown, then I felt a heavy weight shift beside me and the light dimmed as if someone had pulled the blinds. My frown stayed. Sunlight? When was the last time sun rose while I was still in bed? Who cared? I hiked the quilt to my chin, sinking into the bed like clouds. Soft bed? Heavy weight? Flashes came to me of soft touches, soft lips, soft words—I curled more into myself, suddenly hyperaware of my nakedness. My mind drew more images, ones that involved him treating me like he cherished nothing more in this lifetime.
With heavy eyes, I'd awoken sometime in the the middle of the night, forcing myself to stop smiling like a goof at the way he had held me.
I gently tried to pry his hand away from my waist without waking him, but his grumble was almost immediate.
"Sleep, Esmé."
"I have to leave." I said. Honestly, I wished to forget those damned rules that snatched my sleep cruelly, and return to the comfort of his arms.
"You know what kind of women leave after a night like ours. Let the sun rise."
The sun had risen; it was just too bright to be my preferred timing.
I shot upstraight. Oh damn.
Aedric, equally startled, sat up as well, his eyes heavy with sleep. He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. When he opened his eyes again, he was less sleepy, perplexed, ajar mouth, and shirtless, but awake. Shirtless. Oh damn-damn. I swiftly pulled the quilt to my chin, flushing red as though as I was competing with a rose. Was this Esmé on a tour yesternight?
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"What's the time?"
"Nine, maybe."
"Nine? Oh I'm dead."
"Relax, Esmé," he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him.
"Tell me you've pulled your princely strings. I don't wanna face Mrs. Pearson."
"I haven't, but I'll manage," he tucked a strand of my frivolous hair behind my ear. "You look too ethereal this morning to carry frowns."
I blushed. "I don't."
"Says who?"
"Me."
He tilted my chin, eyes on me. "You haven't seen yourself after, my sweet."
God, this man—and he had the audacity to laugh.
"C'mon, freshen up now. I will arrange for breakfast."
He slid out of the bed in all his naked glory, unbothered to hide. He brought me a fresh change of his shirt from the cupboard, turning around while I slid it on. I heard the cupboard open again and some shuffling sounds. I buttoned the shirt up, letting myself sink in his familiar smell. His shirt was softer than even my chemise. I had a feeling whenever it would just be us in the future, I'd ditch my kirtles for his shirts, maybe even delicate gowns some day.
