A Storm of Flames and Deceit

27. To Conquer

Nephele

Eris and I arrive at the feast last, servants bustling about the guests, all motion in the room halting when we enter. Eris just waves them off, me offering a smile as they return as they were.

We were able to steal a few moments away before dinner, nothing monumental. We just sat together for a blissful breath, talking, smiling, being near each other. It seems as if the only moments we have had together all week have been on the brims of exhaustion, at night when we've spent all day working for our people. We just needed... an interlude, something brief and peaceful.

Eris pulls my chair out for me at the center table that Lucien, Helion, and Delia already sit at, our people scattered at tables around us. "Enjoy yourselves?" Lucien asks as we sit.

"Lucien!" Delia swats at him with her napkin, appalled by his table manners. That was an up and down Helion thing to say- no wonder Lucien's father sits at Delia's side, fighting a laugh with a sip of wine.

"We lifted your exile, Lucien," Eris reminds him, a warning glance as he takes his own seat. "It can just as easily be reimposed."

"Eris!" Delia looks scandalized by the manners of both her sons, horrified that Eris would even mention the exile- though Lucien laughs warmly.

Sitting in between the two brothers, I elbow them both in the ribs. "Apologize to your mother," I demand. "The both of you. It's harvest."

"Sorry," Lucien puts in.

I jab Eris in the rib again, harder this time. "Sorry, mom," he coughs out, rubbing his ribcage as he casts me an irritated look, forgiving me when I take his hand in mine.

"So, Eris," Helion clears his throat awkwardly. "Did the books I sent over last weekend help?"

Eris blinks, as if he had forgotten Helion was there entirely. "They had," he answers cordially. "Thank you for loaning them to me."

"Of course," Helion replies. He looked nearly... nervous. "Don't hesitate to let know if you need to borrow any others. If you want I could show you around my libraries..."

If I didn't know any better, I might say Helion was trying to... impress Eris. Delia looks on hopefully, Lucien shifting awkwardly in his seat. But Eris is fully oblivious to it all, shrugging casually. "I appreciate that," Eris says. "I'll just write you if we need any further texts-"

"A tour would be beautiful, I'm sure," I interrupt, giving Eris a look. He looks so confused that I would think he was pretending if I didn't know for certain that Eris was incapable of playing dumb. "Don't you think, Eris?"

His brows knit together. "I suppose..."

"Fantastic," Helion claps his hands together, enthused. "How's Wednesday?"

Eris blinks, suddenly finding himself in a commitment, looking at me helplessly. "Oh, I'm having Nephele over for brunch Wednesday," Delia puts in merrily. "That should be perfect!"

Eris blinks, confused as to how he found himself roped into Wednesday plans with his mother's boyfriend. I smile apologetically at him as the servants bring out the feast.

...

"I'm not even his son," Eris points out later in the privacy of our bedroom. We had winnowed home to the treehouse when the last of our guests left, both of us eager to dawn our night clothes and fall into bed. "Why would he want to get to know me? That doesn't make sense."

"You're Delia's son," I remind him. "He just wants you to like him."

"I don't have to like him," Eris replies, leaned against the headboard, fiddling with the hem of my nightgown. "He makes my mom happy. It's not like I'm going to forbid him from dating her."

"You matter to Delia," I remind him, leaning closer to brush his messy hair out of his face. "Which makes you matter to him. Your opinion. What you think of him."

"Let's talk about something else," Eris says evasively, pulling my body into his chest.

"Fine," I reply weakly, my cheek pressed against his bare chest. "Why didn't any of the nobles we invited come to the feast tonight?" All the table were full, but only by the attendance of the commonfolk and soldiers whom we invited.

"My best guess is that they found out our guest list," he says sourly. "Didn't wish to dine with anyone below their station."

I groan. "Just another thing we need to right in this court," I mutter. "The spoiled nobles."

"We'll whip them into shape," Eris vows. "But I think it's time we rest, don't you? We can deal with the nobles tomorrow."

I nod, humming in agreement. "I can barely keep my eyes open," I wrap my arms around his waist. "Goodnight, Eris."

He pecks a kiss on my hair, blowing out the candle on our nightstand. "Goodnight, Nephele."

...

When I awake the next morning, he isn't beneath me, which is strange because I'm nearly certain I hadn't moved all night. In fact, the entire bed is empty, his warmth only lingering in the sheets that lay rumpled around me. The door to the bathroom is open though, and I find myself wandering through it.

I see him at the mirror, swiping his razor across his face where the last stripe of shaving cream holds, using the foggy mirror to finish shaving his face. He only wears a towel around his waist, the fabric riding low on his hips, exposing the cut and sweep of his muscles as he wipes his face with another towel.

"Morning, Nephele," he smirks, catching my gaze in the mirror. My skin heats, but I don't look away, walking towards him slowly.

"It is a good morning, isn't it?" I muse, wrapping my arms around his waist, sliding my fingers up his abdomen. "If I recall correctly, we have the whole day to ourselves."

I can tell his breath comes up a bit short as my hands trail down to his hips, though he tries to hide it. "Do we?" He replies breathlessly as my cold fingers flirt with the skin beneath his towel. I nod, resting my chin on his shoulder as I watch him study my traveling hands in the mirror. "And what would you like to do today, Nephele?"

The question hangs in the air with every creative possibility. What do I want to do today? What don't I want to do today seems a better question. I want to see him. I want to see all of him. "Explore," I articulate finally, a smile gracing my lips as I glance down at the growing bulge in his towel. "Conquer."

"Conquer?" He murmurs, a bemused grin. I nod. He has been so giving with my pleasure, as if he could claim it as his own. Well, I might like to flip the script. I might like to claim his pleasure alone for once. "And how might you conquer me today, My Sweet Nephele?"

I shrug, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "With my hands," I slide a finger over the swoop of his bicep. "With my mouth." My tongue glides up his neck until I bite his earlobe, his eyes fluttering shut. I want to please him. I want him to show me what makes him feel good. I want to learn his body like the back of my hand if he'll let me.

His head rolls back a bit onto me, his throat bobbing, his fingers grasping the bathroom counter as if grasping at restraint. "You want that?" He smells fresh like apples, the musk of his shaving cream lingering on his skin, flirting with the smell of his desire in the air.

"I want you to drop the towel," I whisper in response. "I want you to let me explore you. I want you to let me please you."

His eyes flutter open as he turns, facing me, leaning against the counter. His abs flex from the movement, his biceps settling as he leans back against them, water glistening off his skin. I would pay millions for a portrait of him before me now, studying me as I admire him, the light sculpting him in something more beautiful than any statue.

My gaze flashes back to his, and his eyes narrow as he rolls onto his feet, taking an intimidating step towards me, waiting for me to back down. I do no such thing, staring him down until his chest is only a breath from mine, only my nightgown and that damn towel between us.

Holding my gaze, he drops the towel.