Mercy & Fire

29. A Hundred Crows for War

Roselena

Eyes wide, body frozen, and heart racing, my hands reflexively lifted into the air, startled by all the new sensations and emotions I was feeling.

I'd always imagine the feel of someone's lips on mine to be warm and exciting, new and inviting, and most of all to be connected to someone I was in love with on my wedding day. The cold, dry feel of King Rovan's lips were a stark contrast to what I expected

My mind screamed to push him away and kick the ever loving guts out of him. He'd be worse off than all the dead fish in the rivers of Bermillia, awaiting an afterlife of putrefaction and misery... But I just couldn't move.

King Rovan kissed me with something I wasn't able to describe. I'd never been kissed, but I suppose the words would be tender and intense like something grabbing hold of me and refusing to let go. The first was something I didn't know he was capable of but the latter was all I knew from him. Intense and threatening and just a little crazy in the head — like he was constantly at a precipice, ready to tip over.

I'd imagined what our reunion would be like. Maybe he'd plunge his sword right through me and leave me to die on the floor like the fruit vendors in my hometown. Maybe he'd arrest me and leave me to the mercies of his perverted soldiers... maybe he'd pretend or forget he never knew me, but this was never in the countless scenarios I'd created in my head.

Perhaps that was why I melted into his kiss for only a moment, and in that moment, I forgot who he was and what he'd done to me and to entire kingdoms. He was just a man kissing me with something pushing on the edge of possessive fervor, lighting up a desire deep in my abdomen.

He released my chin and slowly traced up my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers curling around the curve of my spine and pressing into my skin. He pulled me down toward him, making one of my hands reflexively reach for the ground on either side of his thigh. The firmness of his cold fingers made goosebumps rise over my skin, and the tilted movement of his lips made me feel breathless.

I tried to keep up with the growing intensity, but I made the mistake of turning on my brain.

As always, reality crashed over me, reminding me of who he was. Ruthless, calculating, and cruel. A pillager of towns and villages full of innocent people. A king who enabled disgusting atrocities within his reign without a sliver of remorse.

He was the same man who built and fought for an empire that encouraged men and women to do what could have happened to me the night I finally escaped. It almost made bile rise up my throat as I pushed off of the ground away from him.

He didn't fight it. He only kept his eyes closed as I instinctively swung my hand across his face, sending him into a deep slumber.

I fell backwards onto my bottom and began to rub ferociously at my lips, trying to erase evidence of his kiss. As if erasing all evidence would mean it never happened...

The urge to cry burned at the edges of my eyes but I refused to cry any more tears because of this man. All he'd ever done was cause me misery and fear directly or indirectly.

Inconveniently, the day when I'd felt he might actually do something to me flashed across my mind. He'd looked so unstable after sparring with Sir Joaquim when he accused me of fancying the man. The possessiveness lying restless under his words made me feel claustrophobic that day, as if I'd never escape his grasp.

During our time away from each other, I resolved to forgive and forget because that was the right thing to do for myself. I refused to drown in resentment, but after this, the resentment I thought had drained out of me was quickly filling up my chest.