The Prince of Ilios

Fifty-Six

"My Lord, Cyrus. The Princess of the Southern Isles has caused complete wreckage along the coast of Ilios. She seems to be a strong opponent."

"What of Nicola? Has he chosen a bride?" Cyrus tipped a goblet of wine back and forth in his hand. He sat leisurely slouched on a black throne of sorts. The red cushions standing out against the walnut wood. Vatra was fairly cold and desolate since the war with Ilios. They had lost, Cyrus's father had paid the price with his life shortly after. Cyrus brushed his fingers through the black bearskin on his shoulders. His outfit made of fine black leather. Soft to the touch, but ready to stand up to anything. He was the dark to Ilios' light, and it was almost time to make his move. To not only take back his kingdom, but also the whole continent.

"No, my Lord." His advisor informed him.

He sipped his bitter wine, "Then, we will wait until he tips our hand. Until then, prepare supplies for Ilios, we will give them aid."

He slammed his goblet down on the arm of the chair. The red liquid splashing over the back of his gloved hand. Cyrus stood, "Simon! Make sure the troops are in the best condition and all of their weapons as well. You will be going to Ilios along with the supplies. It is time to start."

Simon, the head commander of Vatra's army, bowed and left immediately to carry out Cyrus's orders.

Ellora awoke with a start. The same nightmare. Her body awash of cold sweat. She sat up, looking around her room, not remembering how she had gotten there. The darkness revealed it was the middle of the night. So much for sleeping. She swept her feet out from the bed and rose, carefully. She wrapped her blanket around her. It was cozy and warm knit from a pale cream wool. Her stomach grumbled loudly, telling her that she needed to eat. Ellora didn't bother to grab her shoes or even look for the maid.

Deciding to go down to the kitchens, she simply stepped out the door and straight into a familiar, solid white wall, "Nicola!" It came out higher than she had remembered her voice sounding. He looked exhausted, being out helping the village for days on end with no respite.

"Ellie..."

He had taken to calling her that, and she had to admit, she did not hate it. It sounded like it belonged, so she let him.

"I did not mean to startle you." His hands were up in surrender, as though she had caught him. His eyes dropped down across her body in surprise, then immediately to the walls and floors, basically, anywhere but her.

She pulled the blanket around her a bit tighter, suddenly realizing that she was still in her nightgown. Glancing back at her room, she decided that her stomach took precedence over her choice in clothing. She had to end this conversation quick so that she could satisfy her angry stomach, "Did you need something?"

His eyes fell to her eyes, heating her cheeks at how earnest they looked, "I... uh, no nothing. You look," He glanced away again, trying to decide what to say, finally landing on the word, "busy."

She rolled her eyes, "Wait here."

Nicola nodded as she disappeared back into her room. He heaved a huge sigh of relief, leaning against the wall. His heart beat loudly in his chest, as though he were doing something sneaky. He had been pacing in front of their rooms, wanting to talk to her, but not wanting to raise any more suspicion from Alyn. All day, he had wanted to check on her, make sure she was alright, to take care of her. He would have brought her whatever she needed. Nicola shook his head. These thoughts were too much, too soon. But, he could not stop himself from pacing outside her door, wanting to spend time with her, and refused to go to bed now that he could have it. He had never had this feeling before. It was like she had some sort of magnetic pull on him. He found himself wanting to keep her within his sights at all times. Wanting to keep her out of danger and protect her. The idea terrified him. How could he become so dependent so quickly. For so long all he had felt was resentment, anger and bitterness created by his position and his father. He did not know that buried deep under those emotions he even wanted a relationship. She had challenged his thinking. Drove him to be a better person. Even though he had not wanted to leave the military, he could see that his people needed him here, in Ilios.

He was falling fast and hard, but was unsure if she would feel at all the same way, which left him the awkward, unassured man that paced in front of her door in the middle of the night, wanting to be near her, but unnoticed at the same time. Constantly debating and re-examining every word spoken and look given. His hands drew to his face, scrubbing at his facial hair. He desperately needed a shave.

Nicola had to admit that he was not averse to the way she looked before. Her hair had swept down her back and over her shoulders, golden and beautiful. Before he had looked away, he had caught the silhouette of her beautiful figure through her nightgown. He had had to stop himself from taking her into his arms and embracing her. She reappeared before him, now in a skirt, with shoes on. Her shoulders covered by a beautiful shawl. Her golden tresses still fell down her back like a waterfall, soft and silky. He almost reached out to curl one around his finger.

"I am going to the kitchen, if you would like to escort me, it would save me some time. I have only been there once and I don't remember which wing it is in." A fiery blush warmed her cheeks. Nicola was staring at her. She could feel his gaze as she began walking away from him.

He jolted to catch up, "Of course."

Nicola led the way through a maze of halls, claiming that they would not run into anyone. They were less ornate than the normal ones, not lined with curtains, windows or paintings. Rather dark metal sconces lit with meager flames. Stone walls creeped, arching around her, making her feel like she was walking through a dungeon, or deep into the earth. "Where are we?" Her quiet voice echoed through the stairwell.

"Currently, under the Great Hall." He grasped her hand in the dark, leading her.

The calming warmth of energy between them hummed at their touch.

"Nicola, what is that?" Her curiosity got the best of her. She knew he had said that he did not know, but was hoping he lied because he was angry with her at the time.

"What is what?" He tried to play innocent, releasing her hand.

"Every time you touch me, I feel this weird shock or something, like you have been walking around in only your stockinged feet, or like your hand is part of a furnace."

"It's a myth. Don't even worry about it." He muttered back.

She chuckled sardonically, "If it were a myth, then I wouldn't feel it right?"

She tripped over her own feet. He turned and caught her, his arm flying around her waist. It lingered longer than it ought. He studied her face in the dim light. Her eyes alight with wonder, searching his face. He longed to tell her, but also did not want to scare her off either. Although, it wasn't like he brought just anyone through the secret passages. She wasn't supposed to be here. Only the royal family was to know of them. He took a deep breath in. Time to be brave, to let the confrontation happen, "True. My mother, before she died, once told me a story..." He relayed the tale of the first King and the light that fell from the heavens and his love from Sana, "So it is said that when the light bearer of Ilios finds the one he loves they will balance one another, and they will know that they are meant to be." He could not hold back any longer. His hand reached up. Nicola's green eyes were locked with her deep blue ones. His fingers lightly caressed her jawline. Warmth from his touch sent tingles all over her body, and a shiver down her spine. His thumb moved to her lips, feathering the lightest touch across them. They parted slightly. Nicola blinked, what am I doing? He righted her and stepped away abruptly, "That is the rumor anyway."

Ellora blinked, taking in a breath that she did not know she was holding. Her stomach let out a loud growl. Her face turned the most attractive shade of pink he had ever seen, all the way to her ears.

He swallowed, "Let's get you some food. You are hungry."