A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XVII. Liberation

Eris

In theory, water should cool me off. I am the prince of flame after all. What better way to silence the sizzling need within me than submerging myself in the cold sea.
The only problem is that I pulled her down with me. Now, she clings to me desperately, wrapping her thighs around my waist like she's forgotten how to swim, her breathing haggard with surprise. What I would do to see her like this in an alternate scenario, dripping wet, panting, feeling her pulse from between her thighs.
A scream of delight cracks above us before Tarquin dives in flawlessly, the smallest splash in the placid turquoise water. Cressida follows in not to long after, her dive even more flawless. The impulse to lock my hands together behind her back overtakes me, the fear she'll swim away.
She makes no move to.
Instead, she gazes upon me, pushing my wet hair off my forehead with delicate fingers. "I should fry you," she whispers. My hairs stand on end about the threat.
"You should," I agree. "But will you?"
She shrugs. "Perhaps one day," she replies. "But I'll settle for just this right now." Then, without warning, she dunks her body under, dragging me with her. Beneath the surface, she twists from my grip, swimming away as I reach after her.
When I emerge, she's giggling from the other side of the boat, her laughter perfectly taunting.
...
We spend a while in the water, enjoying the cool quiet waves as the sun beats down on us. Cressida and Tarquin declare that they're both starving, and Nephele and I follow them back onto the boat for a lunch that the palace chefs had sent with us.
We eat on the deck, stretching out in the sun. I'm not sure what it is about being outside, but it always makes lunch taste better, our faces warm from the sun.
Mine also might be a little warm because of Nephele's cheek resting on my shoulder. I know it's for show. Of course I know that. But my heart flutters all the same, her body a pleasant sort of warm against my side, my arm wrapped snuggly around her.
She only nibbles on her sandwich- she still didn't have much appetite. I heard once that when soldiers are starved in war camps that their stomach begins to shrink, eating itself. I wonder how long it will take for her stomach capacity to go back to normal. I wonder if it ever will.
Frankly, she can't function on how much she eats per day. I see her exhaustion hit her quickly, fatigue behind that smile, circles beneath those bright gray eyes. It's worrying.
Even now, she falls asleep on my shoulder. I feel worry and admiration in equal parts. I could watch her sleep for the rest of my life, her face unguarded and relaxed. I like when she relaxed. Too frequently her shoulders were tight, as if someone might grab her from behind and lock her up.
Over my dead body.
She said she wanted to be friends- she's being ridiculous. We are allies. Partners. One day, she will be my wife. Let's not pretend there's anything friendly about it.
Of course, I've never admired the way any of my allies' eyelashes fan across their freckled cheeks the way I do her. None of my allies have ever slipped their head onto my thigh, falling asleep with their hand on my knee. I've never felt any of my allies' lips caressing my skin.
Cressida smirks, whispering something to Tarquin that prompts him to set sail back towards the castle, the two of them leaving us alone as she curls closer to me.
I can't help myself, stroking her cheek with the back of my fingers, tracing her lips. I could swear they twist into a content smile.
When we dock back at the palace, I decide against waking her up. She needs her rest before dinner. We leave for Winter tomorrow which means it will be a big day. Cautiously, I scoop her into my arms, her burrowing into my chest. I wince as she stirs, trying to make sure she does wake.
Promising Tarquin and Cressida to see them at dinner, I leave the docks, taking her up towards the palace. So much of her skin touches mine, and I try not to notice her breasts nearly spilling out of her top, smushed against my chest. With every step up the stairs, her ass bumps against my abdomen. I grit my teeth, even though she's light as a feather. I want her more than ever, and it's maddening.
I settle for staring at her eyelids, turning through the corridor into the palace.
"Are they gone yet?"
I slow to a stop, utterly shocked. That wasn't her, was it? I glance at her, laying limply in my arms until she peaks those gray eyes open cautiously, looking around.
"You're..." I stammer dumbly. "You're awake?"
She rolls her eyes. "Of course I'm awake. I've been awake this whole time," she scoffs. "Now tell me they were at least fawning when you carried me off. Tell me they believed it."
I blink, more confused than I've ever been in my life. "I believed it," I tell her, narrowing my eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone lie that still."
She grins. "It's an art," she waves a hand, patting my chest in condescension. "You can put me down now."
"No," I continue on towards her room. "I don't think I will. I think I might just throw you into the ocean."
She chuckles at my mood. "Sorry hot stuff- I thought you could tell," she smirks up at me. "I think I prefer this to lying verbally."
"Honesty is overrated," I shrug, swinging her door open. "You'll figure that out soon enough."
"I am marrying a politician," she smirks, ruffling my damp hair. "I'm sure I will."
I roll my eyes, dropping her on her bed from such a height that she springs back up a bit, giggling. I could kiss her. I want to kiss her. I want to do more than kiss her. She's beautiful.
She props herself up on her elbows, looking at me with bright eyes, like she indeed had just woken up from a long nap. "That reminds me," she says, and catches my attention away from my thoughts of her lips. "I wanted to ask if we could invite Cressida and Tarquin to our wedding."
"They are invited," I sit on the edge of her bed. "All of the High Lord's and their families are. Most will make up an excuse not to come- no one wants to come to these types of things, especially for Autumn's least favorite son. But you can talk to Cressida about it. I'm sure if she knew how important it was to you, she probably wouldn't mind bearing the ceremony."
"It might look good for you if we could get multiple High Lords to bare witness to the ceremony," she says, the gears turning in her head. "It would make you look like you achieved a level of diplomacy your father never could."
I consider. "My people would appreciate knowing that the other rulers don't detest me like they do Beron," I concede. "It won't be easy to pull off."
"It never was going to be easy to make people like you," she teases, sitting up. I'm reminded again that we're both half naked. A bead of sweat slips down my neck. "But I think Tarquin would come."
"Tamlin won't."
She waves me off. "You don't need every High Lord," she replies. "Just a few."
I sigh. "We meet Kallias tomorrow- from winter," I tell her, looking out the window as if I could see him over Adriata. "He's a fair guy, but he doesn't like to leave, especially with that mate and new kid of his."
"Alright, what of Dawn?"
I shrug. "Similar situation," I reply. "Thesan prefers the company of his court to anyone else. He doesn't like leaving neutral territory too frequently."
She nods. "Which leaves night and day," she says. "You said you had allies in night?"
I shake my head. "Father can't know of any alliance," I reply. "It cannot be them. We'll both be killed."
"And day?"
I hesitate.
"What is it?" She scoots closer.
I shake my head. I feel like I can trust her. What reason would she have to rat out my mother to my father? She likes my mother. My mother likes her. And Neph hates my father for his very association with her own.
"I can swear secrecy," she says quietly, in understanding. "If that makes you feel better."
It actually does, the fact that she'd be willing to swear it is good enough for me. "My mother and Helion used to be in love."
She gasps quietly, putting a hand over her mouth. "He's..." she hesitates, chewing on her lip, her brows furrowed. "He's Lucien's true father, isn't he?"
I falter, blinking. How did she...
"Please," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Lucien's complexion closer resembles mine than yours, though the red hair is convincing."
"You can't tell a soul," I say quickly. Intensely. "Not even Lucien himself knows. Not even Helion. My mother never told anyone. I only know because I could tell. If my father found out-"
"Relax," she lays a hand on my shoulder, an effective silencing technique when you're both half naked. I should really ask her to coverup, but I shouldn't care enough to be so affected by it. "See this," she dangled her wedding ring in front of me, a smile painted across her lips. "We're in this together, like it or not. And believe me, I have no interest in bringing any sort of pain to your mother."
"Good," I nod, believing her easier than I should be. "Helion is a no."
"Sounds like a maybe," she shrugs indifferently.
"What part of that sounds like a maybe?" I blink, baffled. She shrugs again.
"The part where you made it seem like your mother has a very powerful man that cares for her," she grins. "Maybe we can do better than not bringing pain to your mother. Maybe we can liberate her."
I scoff. "Don't you think I've tried that a million times."
"The world isn't what it was," she replies simply. It's true enough. Hybern is gone. I'm no longer a child. I've got allies, and the world has tired of my father's bullshit. "Maybe liberation is easier now. Or maybe that can be an incentive for someone like Helion to get you to be High Lord of autumn sooner rather than later," she smiles over at her pillow, laying back theatrically. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to actually nap."