Chapter 56

Chapter 56

A ndrian had always thought the bathtub in the queen’s chambers was a bit ridiculous. Far too large, far too indulgent.

But as he sank further into the decadently warm water, he could feel his opinion on the matter change.

Especially when the sound of soft footsteps had his eyes cracking open. His queen walked into the bathroom, shedding her silk robe and stepping into the tub, settling herself across from him.

Much too far.

That wouldn’t do.

He knew hunger consumed his expression. His cock hardened beneath the surface of the water; his fingers twitched on the armrests.

Mariah simply smiled at him, a wicked little expression, before closing her eyes and dunking her head beneath the surface. Her legs brushed his, and it took every ounce of his control to keep himself from latching onto her, from dragging her to him.

But he refrained, and she reemerged a few moments later, pushing her wet hair from her face and wiping the water from her eyes. She blinked at him, lashes heavy with droplets of water, and grinned.

“Oh, please,” Mariah purred. “Don’t look at me like that. Am I not allowed to enjoy a bath in peace?”

“No. You’re not. Not anymore.”

She pouted. “And why is that? Just can’t get enough?”

He growled, leaning forward as he braced his arms on the ledge. “No. I’ll never get enough of you. I feel like a man starved, and even if I indulge on you every single day for the rest of my life, I will never be sated.”

It was true. A day had passed since he’d asked her to cut his hair. A day since he’d gotten down on his knees and begged, pleaded that she find it in herself to trust him again. A day since he’d shared the last little pieces of himself, the only ones he had left.

A day since he’d told her that all along, he’d been worshiping her, even when he hadn’t known it.

Her eyes widened for just a moment, bottled emotion flashing behind the forest green. It didn’t drop away, not quite, but it shifted into something more playful, more teasing.

More … Mariah .

“Isn’t that sweet,” she said, another smile twisting her lips. “I might feel the same. But, as much as I love you, I still love my baths more.” She leaned back. “And right now, I desperately need to wash my hair.”

He watched her for a moment, deciding his next words. “Let me do it.”

She stilled. “What?”

He swallowed, his blood hotter than the water around him. “Let me wash your hair.”

Her eyes darted between his before she shrugged. “Fine. I suppose.”

Andrian huffed a laugh. Brat . “Turn around. And grab the shampoo.”

Surprisingly, she did as he asked. Swiping the bottle off the ledge, Mariah turned and slid back. She handed him the bottle, tucking herself between his knees. He squeezed a coin-sized amount into his palm before clipping the bottle closed, setting it behind him, and ran a finger down her arm. His lips twitched as goosebumps rose along her flesh.

No matter what she tried to hide from him, her body would always betray her.

“Lean back,” he murmured. She did, and he slid his hands into her hair, working the shampoo into a rich lather. A high-pitched groan slipped from her throat, and his grin widened.

“Why history?”

Her question surprised him, his hands still tangled deep in her hair. Despite the shortened length, it was still thick. Easy to get lost in. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve always spoken of history differently than you do other things. You read, but not the fictions that Sebastian does. It’s always some old text, legends from a time long passed. So … why? Of all subjects to be drawn to, why that one?”

He hummed as he resumed his ministrations, massaging the skin of her scalp. “I think that answer is far more complicated than the question, nio .”

She twisted, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. Her expression was open and vulnerable, and it squeezed something in his heart.

“I have time.”

He chuckled. “Alright.” Placated, she turned back. He ran a handful of water over her hair, rinsing out the suds.

“When I was a boy … life was not simple. Or easy. I was a lord’s son, an heir to a Royal house, but that guaranteed me no luxuries. I had to be the strongest, the most well-spoken, the best. Perfect. I started training at eight with the armsmaster. That was when I got my first blisters, my first lashings. They were never terrible, never enough to permanently mar me, but just enough to cause lasting pain.” He took a breath. “I had lessons with the librarians every day in the afternoon after training. And even though every muscle in my body hurt, I still loved those lessons. Especially the ones on history.”

The memories washed over him, some of the only good ones he had of his childhood, and he smiled.

“There was one book. A History of Dragons. It was the subject of our lesson one day, but I never wanted it to stop there. It was the first time I truly escaped that castle, lost in the past when great dragons walked the earth, epic battles waged and terrible enemies defeated.”

He gripped her head between his hands, tipping her back until her hair met the water and her eyes stared up at him. Her gaze searched his as he rinsed out the shampoo before letting her sit up. Still running his hands through her soft hair, unable to stop, he continued.

“When I was Marked, I kept the habit. Brought my favorite books with me when I moved to Verith. Our lessons continued, and history was always my favorite. I would spend my free time in the library, lost in the dustiest, most ancient texts I could find.”

Slowly, begrudgingly, his hands untangled themselves from her hair. She twisted, her hip pressed against his leg, her arms folded in her lap beneath the surface.

“I wish I had known you then,” she said quietly. Those eyes were still so open. So painfully brilliant.

He chuckled, low and dark. “No, nio . You don’t. I was moody and standoffish.”

“Right.” Her words were dry. “Because you’re so bright and bubbly now.”

She had a point . Still, he let his jaw drop, pasting his best attempt at an aghast expression on his face. “ Me ? I am an absolute delight, princess. The life of every party.”

She giggled, and the sound was light enough to lift his soul, cracking it in half, just a bit more.

If there was any part of Andrian that didn’t already belong to her, it disappeared with that giggle.

He smiled and brushed a hand down the side of her face. Water dripped across her cheek, splashing onto her shoulder, her green eyes shimmering with the silver-gold of her magic.

“What about you, nio ?” His question was barely more than a whisper. “Beyond the horse and the dagger, what did younger you find happiness with?”

Mariah smiled, a little shyly. “You mean, before I turned eighteen and found the taverns?” That smile faltered, and she glanced away.

“Yes,” was all he said. She looked back at him, and he elaborated. “Your past doesn’t matter to me, Mariah. I know you were unhappy in that place, so you did what you could to create a semblance of freedom for yourself. I could never fault you for that.”

That shy smile returned. “If you say so,” she murmured, shifting against him.

Mariah hesitated again, but another brush of his fingers across her cheek, down her arm, was all the encouragement she needed. She leaned back against him, tucking the top of her head beneath his chin. She heaved a contented sigh.

That unfamiliar place in his chest where his heart resided squeezed painfully, enough to hold his breath in his lungs.

“Well,” she began, her sweet breath tickling his chest. “I loved—love—Kodie. And I loved the Ivory Forest. Most of my days were spent lost between the aspen and spruce trees, watching the birds overhead or trying to chase the rabbits through the underbrush. But I think most of my happiness, my true happiness, was found with my family.”

That wasn’t a surprise to Andrian. He remembered those nights, just a few months ago, when she’d told him stories from home. All stories of her family—her healer mother, her soldier father, and her younger brother who was still learning his place in the world.

“I had no friends in Andburgh,” she continued, “mostly by choice. So, my only real companions were my family. Mornings on the training pitch with my father. Afternoons hunting in the woods with my brother. And stolen moments with my mother sprinkled between the two.” She drew in a heavy breath. “I wish … I wish I had asked her more questions. Had learned more from her. She left me that book, that journal she said would hold all the answers, but ever since … since we got back, I’ve only been brave enough to open it once.” She shuddered, and a twinge of curiosity picked at his mind.

“Never again, though. Whatever answers it might carry, I don’t want them. But I think about her. Far more often than I probably should. And I know there are things only she can tell me, things that might help us figure out all the bullshit that happened on the Solstice. But …”

“Fear,” he finished, reaching for her hand. She looked up and he met her gaze. “But you’re afraid of what you might find.”

Her answering smile was tight. “I’ve been afraid of a lot lately.” Frustration twisted her mouth into a frown. “I’ve never been afraid before. I don’t know how to deal with it.” Her eyes flickered. “But … I faced it with you, so perhaps I’m learning.”

Andrian’s throat closed. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he found his voice. “They’ll receive your letter. They’ll come. And I look forward to meeting them when they do.”

Her brow furrowed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really? You do?”

Andrian smiled and pressed a kiss to the soft skin beneath her ear. “I do, My Queen.” Another kiss and an inhale of the ever-present jasmine on her skin. “I think you’ll find it all particularly mortifying, which sweetens it a bit.” He drew away with a laugh just as she swatted his arm.

He was still laughing when she faced him fully. She cocked her head, wet hair brushing her collarbones, and watched him.

And he simply watched her back, his stare unwavering.

After what felt like an eternity, she smiled. A slow, coy smile, something far more wicked than before.

“You know,” she started, her voice gravelly. His hand clenched into a fist on his knee. “I think this might be my new favorite thing.”

“What?” he said, his voice rough. “Talking about your parents?”

She shook her head, smile widening. “No.” She leaned forward, laying her hands flat on the bottom of the tub. “I mean, taking baths … with you in them.”

Fucking gods. He couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to this woman, even if he tried. He shifted slightly, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that so, princess?”

She bit her lip, slipping her right hand across his hip and pressing it to the porcelain behind him. “Oh yes,” she purred, leaning into him until her lips brushed his. “It makes things far more interesting.”

He groaned. But just as he was about to lean forward and capture her lips with his own, a boom reverberated through the bathing chamber. Mariah froze, eyes darting to the door, but she didn’t move or draw away. Her bedroom door clicked open, and footsteps smacked across the marble floor.

“Mariah? Where in the Goddess’s name are you?”

Andrian recognized the voice instantly, but there wasn’t enough time to react before the sliding bathroom door was pulled open and Ciana burst in, her cheeks bright with a flush of exertion that morphed into something far more mortified.

Mariah glanced over her shoulder at her best friend.

“I think knocking is appropriate when entering one’s bathroom, Cee.”

To her credit, Ciana didn’t back down. Still flushed a brilliant pink, she instead locked her hands on her hips, tossing her golden curls over her shoulder.

“So, this is where you’ve both been for the past day. I thought you hated him?” She turned her glare to Andrian, but then flushed harder, and looked away.

Mariah turned back to him, amusement and warmth and joy dancing in her eyes.

All things that made him so unbelievably happy.

“No,” Mariah murmured. “I don’t hate him.”

“Ugh,” Ciana groaned, spinning away. “Just … get out here as soon as possible. In case you forgot, you’re getting coronated tomorrow, and we have to decide on your dress.” Ciana stomped from the room, shouting to whoever she’d brought with her.

Which was Sebastian, if Andrian had to guess.

“Well,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Mariah’s ear. “I expect to hear shit about that from Ciana for the next fifty years or so.”

Mariah’s bright, answering laugh was swallowed by his kiss, and he showed her just how much better baths could be.

“How about this one?”

Mariah’s eyes flashed as she pushed through her bedroom doors into the living room, spinning the skirts of the burgundy and gold gown. It hugged her curves, her skin glowing with a healthy tan. Her gaze settled on Andrian when she stopped moving, lips curled into a smile.

She was so beautiful, he worried his heart would stop in his chest.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward. “It’s?—”

“It’s not the one.”

Attentions turned to Feran, who sat stoically on the couch. Curiosity brushed away Andrian’s mild annoyance.

Despite the years together, Feran had always been quiet, preferring the company of the horses to people. But Andrian knew he was from a town near the Kreah border. His mother had come from a family of importance in Kreah but had thrown it all away for a handsome Onitan rancher.

Even knowing all that, Andrian could not have predicted Feran to be the one amongst them that was the most outspoken on royal fashion.

Ciana peered around Mariah, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. “Care to explain, Feran?”

Feran shrugged. “The color is wrong. Red isn’t Mariah’s family color.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Feran,” Mariah drawled, her expression bored. “But I don’t have a family color.”

Somewhere, Quentin chuckled, Matheo and Trefor echoing him.

There was silence for a beat.

“Not yet,” Feran answered. “But you could.”

Mariah froze. Andrian cocked his head, watching her. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands. Slowly, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with her thoughts.

He met her look with a grin.

“Got any ideas, princess?”

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Yes. I do.” She turned back to Feran. “Actually, let me change what I said. I don’t currently have a family color … but I used to. My mother’s family used to.” She twisted on her heel to Ciana, Delaynie behind her. Waiting just beyond was Brie, the young palace seamstress.

Andrian’s chest swelled with pride for his scarred queen. For his Mariah.

“Silver,” she said. “My family’s color is silver.”