65. Ayden

Chapter 65

Ayden

T he ceremony was a blur of liturgical formality, far more prescribed than anything we would see back home. Then again, this was the marriage of the Queen of an ancient kingdom. I supposed it warranted a degree of fanfare.

Every eye was glued to the Queen and her intended.

Every eye except mine . . . and Declan’s.

I tried to focus, to do as my father had instructed and represent Melucia well. I wanted to hear what was said, how vows were given, how the Queen wed before her people. I had always been a romantic at heart, anticipating this occasion throughout the months-long trip from Saltstone.

This wedding would be the stuff of legends for generations to come.

But Declan’s gaze was more powerful than any force I had ever encountered.

He caught me staring, and I looked away, narrowing my eyes to focus on some stitch on the Queen’s dress I hardly cared about.

Then he caught me again.

Midway through the ceremony, I surrendered and stared across the massive aisle, longing to wrap him in my arms and never let go.

His eyes never averted. No matter how many times I tried to free myself, each time I snuck another peek, he still stared. His lips still quirked upward at the corners. His eyes still glittered in the magical light.

Had my father turned and seen me so distracted, there would have been hell to pay. He was a kind man, of a sort, but his office was a sacred duty. Therefore, mine was, too.

Some lordling I was.

I almost laughed out loud at that thought.

Declan’s grin widened as though he heard my thoughts.

What had this man done to me?

When the newly married couple turned, and Jess stunned the assembled nobles by announcing Keelan as King, I nearly broke rank and ran across the hall.

Alas, there was a ceremony to entering and exiting.

An order.

A deliberate, painfully slow, agonizingly long process.

The King and Queen left first, followed by Declan and the Privy Council. I watched as a part of my soul vanished through the doorway, saddened to no longer bask in his gaze but giddy at the prospect of being near him soon.

“. . . us out.”

My father had been speaking to me.

“Uh, sorry, sir, what?”

He frowned as other guests stared, wondering at the delay.

“Lead us out, son, before the Vintners start shaking their shells.”

A joke?

Had my father cracked a joke?

That might have stunned me more than seeing Declan.

“Right. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

When we reached the enormous room where the Queen held state dinners, I panicked. Declan was seated by Keelan at the head table. A page directed us to a side table midway across the chamber.

Declan’s eyes darted from Keelan and the Queen to me, and I could tell his attention was divided between a royal conversation and keeping track of where I sat. Something in the simplicity of that act felt like a thousand caterpillars dancing a jig in my chest. I could not have scraped the smile off my face with a mason’s tool.

Toasts were offered.

Dinner was served.

Glasses and mugs sloshed and were refilled more times than I could count.

After so many months of darkness and enmity between our nations, this might have been the most joyous occasion I could remember since the troubles began.

A serving girl startled me as she reached across to refill my goblet. By the time I looked back toward the head table, Declan’s chair stood empty. I glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The King and Queen chatted as though nothing was amiss.

My heart began to race.

Where had he gone?

Was he all right?

Was—

“The Queen has given us leave, should you wish it.” The voice I would know anywhere was low and raspy. His breath stirred heat. It tickled the skin of my ears and sent a surge up my spine.

Without turning my head, I lifted my freshly filled glass to my lips and whispered.

“Get me out of here, please.”

I felt him smiling behind me.

Loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, Declan said, “Lord Ambassador, it is a pleasure to see you. Would you mind if I stole your son for a moment? The Queen asked that I give him a tour of the Palace.”

Lord Byrne had just taken a healthy bite of roasted boar. He tried to swallow a bit too quickly and had to chase it with wine to keep from choking.

“Yes, yes. Thank you for taking him off my hands.”

“Thank you, Lord Ambassador, and congratulations on your appointment. Ranger Byrne, please come with me.”

It took every ounce of control I possessed to rise in a manner resembling anything stately, pay my respects to those about us, and turn to follow Declan.

It took even more control to resist grabbing his face and kissing him right there before the whole of the Spirits-damned Kingdom.

I felt a hundred eyes stare as we strode back toward the head table, then exited through a door flanked by two royal guards. The men, resplendent in their polished plate, gave Declan a quick bob as we passed.

“Did they just—”

“Yes,” he growled. “You should address me as Prince or Your Highness now.”

I snorted. “First, the Heir of Magic, now a royal of the Kingdom? Irina’s tits, you skipped all of the Ranger ranks and went straight for world domination.”

Declan ignored my jibe and continued walking, though I did catch his shoulders shake with soft laughter.

The hallways were brightly lit.

Servants scurried everywhere we walked. I had hoped we might find a moment’s privacy before reaching whatever destination Declan had in mind, but that was not our fate.

Finally, he stopped before a large wooden door.

A girl of fifteen or sixteen curtsied. “Highness.”

I stifled a laugh.

Declan’s ears flushed.

He elbowed me without looking back.

“Please ensure we are not disturbed? Ranger Byrne and I need to discuss sensitive matters vital to the Crown.”

“Of course, Highness.” The girl curtsied again. When her head lifted, a tiny curl had formed at the corner of her mouth.

Declan entered. The moment the door shut behind me, I released the laugh I’d nearly choked on in the hallway.

“Sensitive matters?”

Delcan spun around, grabbed my wrists, and shoved me into the stone wall beside the door, pinning my arms above my head. His body pressed against mine, knocking the air from my lungs. The fire of a thousand suns burned in his eyes.

When our lips met, I thought he might devour me whole.

We were a blur of lips and tongues and teeth.

“Ayden fucking Byrne, I never want to be apart from you again,” he moaned into my ear.

It had been over six months since we’d seen each other last. I feared his longing for me might have diminished.

What a foolish thought that had been.

He released my wrists.

My hands dove into his hair. I yanked his head back, exposing his neck, and sank my teeth into his tender skin.

He gasped, then groaned.

I licked up to his ear and nipped his lobe, teasing at first, then harder.

He winced but didn’t pull back.

His fingers fumbled at the clasp that held my cloak. Before the heavy woolen wrap could hit the floor, he was already working the buttons of my jerkin. My undershirt flew over my head and off my arms, baring my chest and torso.

Declan’s mouth attacked my nipple, as his fingers etched the lines of my stomach.

I braced myself against the wall, grateful for its support, and tried to keep stars from flooding my eyes.

“Someone is happy to see me,” he teased as his hand brushed against my tented breeches.

“Open your present and see what I got you.”

Declan grunted, then grabbed my pants with two hands and yanked them down. My cock flew free, slapping against my stomach and standing at full attention before his face.

“There’s my baby. I missed you so much,” he said before licking my head, then staring up at me with my cock in his mouth.

I could have come right there, looking into his eyes, seeing his tongue lapping up the slickness that leaked down my shaft.

Instead, I twitched, which made his grin widen.

“I want this inside me.”

I twitched again, this time so hard I smacked his nose.

He grabbed my cock in one hand and took it halfway down his throat. I reached back, desperate to grip something, finding only cold stone.

His hand lowered, and he dove further, taking me to the base in a sloppy wetness that prickled the skin of my arms.

“Fuck, Dec.”

He freed my cock long enough to say, “Yeah, you’re doing that, too.”

Then he took me again.

And again.

By the time we made it to the bed, I was naked and he still wore the ridiculous hose contraption nobles in the Kingdom donned on formal occasions. I tried to find where to pull at them but failed more than succeeded.

“Did you put these blasted things on yourself? Are they nailed to your legs?”

He laughed and raised my chin to kiss me again.

“Let me get those. They’re kind of tricky.”

“Promise me you will never wear those again. In fact, I would prefer it if you never wore pants— or clothes —ever again.”

His smile was brighter than any of the globes in the audience chamber. I thought I might die right there.

“I fear the royal household might not share your enthusiasm for my nakedness.”

I rolled my eyes. “They are a silly lot.”

Declan stripped the hose and tossed them aside, allowing me to drop to my knees and return the favor. He tasted of salt and sweat and . . . lavender? I wanted to make a jest but decided his cock in my mouth was more than enough entertainment for the moment.

I shoved him onto the bed on his back, then spread his legs so I could continue worshiping him with my tongue and mouth.

By the time I lifted his legs to my shoulders and slid inside him, sweat coated our bodies, and the bedchamber smelled of musk and sex.

Out of practice from our time apart, we both came far too quickly.

“Can we do that again? I didn’t mean to race you.”

Declan chuckled through drained exhaustion. “Hold me for a while, then we can do it until they kick us out.”

I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead as he nuzzled against my chest. “They can’t kick us out. You’re a royal pain in the ass now.”

He grunted or laughed—I wasn’t sure which—but it came out more of a groan followed by the heavy breathing of a man who’d fallen into a peaceful slumber.