Chapter 13

Rhosyn's brain tumbled to a halt, like a carriage meeting an unfortunate end in the street races that crashed through the lower city. In the smoldering wreckage of her plan, her mind fixated on one thing: The widened eyes of Royal Police, taking in the person who had attempted to take the life of their country's leader.

The scarf that had been tied around her head fluttered to the ground at her feet, having come loose in the mayhem. Even without her hair showing, she would have been recognizable to those who had crossed paths with her at the station for years.

Fletcher and Davies stood to one side of the bunch, expression morphing from open in shock to contorted in fury as the moment stretched.

"I… It wasn't—I didn't…" Rhosyn searched for words to deny the appearance of the situation.

But it wouldn't change what was about to happen. They would arrest her as the real killer ran away. After she had disappeared from the Royal Police with no explanation—and was clearly no longer a hostage—they wouldn't be quick to believe any of her explanations.

The shock that held the room in temporary suspension was shattered by a ripple that ran through the assembled guards and officers. A tall figure pushed its way towards the front of the crowd.

Rhosyn swallowed as she caught sight of shaggy auburn hair. Then, Nate stood before her. A long moment stretched, where she was sure everybody assembled could hear the pounding of her heart. Nate's good eye widened slightly before his face became unreadable, his mouth set in a hard, straight line.

"You are under arrest for attempting to assassinate King Byron."

Rhosyn's ears rang, and her knees trembled. Even Nate—the closest thing she had to a family—believed the worst of her right now. She expected the rage of betrayal to burn like fire in her veins, but instead an icy cold washed over her. She nearly crumpled where she stood, but a flicker of Nate's eyes caught her attention.

He glanced back and forth between her face and the rifle still clutched to her chest. He took one slow step forward. Surely he didn't think she would shoot him?

No. Nate could have had her disarmed and on the ground by now, and never shied away from jumping into danger to protect his family or his King.

He was dutiful and proud of his position, and he wouldn't refuse to arrest her in front of all these onlookers. But he would give her a chance to escape. Rhosyn's fingers tightened on the gun. Nate's chin dipped in the tiniest of acknowledgements.

Before she could second guess herself, Rhosyn angled the gun forward slightly and pulled the trigger at the same time. Plaster exploded everywhere as the bullet hit right at the base of a second chandelier. People shouted as the chain holding the light fixture detached, but Rhosyn didn't stay to watch it plummet to the floor between her and her would-be captors, momentarily blocking them from view.

She dropped the gun, knowing she was unwilling to actually shoot anybody to escape, and spun towards the window. Not breaking her stride, she jumped up onto the sill and twisted in midair, catching the overhang above the opening with her fingers.

If she descended, she would be throwing herself into the path of more guards. The roof was her best chance to make a getaway, and she only had a few seconds head start. Wishing for Ansel's agility and thanking the royalty's gaudy architecture for its ample handholds, she scrambled up the last story to the roof.

As soon as her feet hit the slate tiles, she took off, dashing up the steep slope of the gable. The garden where the party had been was in the back of the manor, but her best chance of escape from the property would be through the gates at the front, left open for all the comings and goings of guests.

She reached the towering peak of the roof and crested to the other side. Instead of running down hill, she fell to one hip, sliding down feet first. The tiles rucked her skirts up and skinned her legs, leaving a stinging in their wake, but Rhosyn didn't stop. She let gravity build her momentum, gaining speed—and hopefully distance on her pursuers.

At the end of the steep slope was a small flat section of roof over the front entrance. She tumbled onto it, descent halted with enough force to knock a grunt from her. A few stumbling steps took her to the very edge, when her eyes lit on exactly what she was hoping for: carriages.

She had never driven one before, but there was no better teacher than necessity.

Her gaze lit on a sleek navy coach with gold accents, hitched to a pair of brown horses whose muscles rippled under shining coats. They would do quite nicely—not that she had time to shop for options.

Already, shouts of pursuit were echoing from the side of the house as people on the ground ran around the manor to stop her. Rhosyn crouched before springing forward. Her heart flew up into her throat as she fell for one extended second. Then, she landed in a crouch on the top of the carriage.

Before she had a chance to catch the breath the impact knocked out of her, the carriage lurched, sending her sprawling, and nearly knocking her off. A sharp whinny told her that her sudden appearance had scared the horses. They took off, and she rolled, not having a good grip, only managing to keep herself from tumbling to the ground by grabbing the edge of the roof before she toppled over it.

The vehicle bumped as it picked up speed, the horses seemingly only spurred on further by the yelling behind them, as Rhosyn's pursuers commandeered carriages of their own. The clatter of wheels over the cobblestone drive echoed through her skull as she crawled over the roof towards the driver's seat, remaining flat on her belly lest the bumping knock her loose.

Wind whipped at her unbound hair and stung her eyes as she dragged herself on her elbows, until she at last tipped over the front edge and collapsed onto the driver's bench.

Her fingers scrambled for the reins, but even as they closed around the worn leather, her heart sank. Any hopes of driving the carriage were a lost cause. She had never handled a horse before, and the shock combined with shouts from behind of "Halt in the name of the crown!" seemed to have whipped them into a frenzy. The horses would gallop until they deemed it appropriate to stop, and Rhosyn was at their mercy.

By now, they had already charged down the long drive leading to the manor and careened through the front gates of the property. The horses followed the road through a sharp bend. Rhosyn's nails bit into the reins so hard they would leave marks in the supple leather, as the carriage rocked precariously at the suddenness of the turn.

As it righted itself, falling back onto four wheels after skittering on two for a moment, Rhosyn chanced a glance over her shoulder. She had gained considerable distance from her pursuers thanks to the horses' reckless speed, but she was likely to end up thrown from the carriage with a broken neck if this went on much longer.

Dust rose from the pounding of hooves on the country lane, stinging Rhosyn's eyes and burning her throat as she fought to think. The rattling wheels drowned out her thoughts, and she gritted her teeth so hard she thought they might crack in an effort to focus.

Her gaze caught on a dense wood off to one side of an upcoming turn in the road. It could provide good cover.

Especially if her pursuers thought she had continued down the road.

The bend approached quickly, as did her opportunity to decide: jump voluntarily from a hurtling carriage or wait until she was either thrown from it or captured and thrown in jail.

Rhosyn always liked to play the odds.

The horses thundered around the corner. As soon as they rounded the bend, hiding the carriage from view for mere seconds, she jumped.

She threw her arms up over her head and tucked herself into a ball as best she could. The ground hit her with all the force of a steam engine, and the world twirled sickeningly as she tumbled through brambles into the ditch. The sharp scratch of thorns against her skin cut through the haze of disorientation as she rolled into the thicket of the forest, and the clattering wheels of her stolen carriage moved away. Hopefully her pursuers thought she continued with it.

As she reached the bottom of the downhill slope away from the road, she threw her hands out, but the trees approached too fast. Her forehead smacked against the base of one, bark cutting into the skin of her temple.

The brown and green of the trees around her swirled together as she tried to grapple onto consciousness, only for it to slip through her fingers like smoke. The last thought before darkness took her was that she hoped Ansel found her before the Royal Police.

Cool fingers stroked her temples. Rhosyn's eyelashes fluttered in pleasure, the touch soothing enough to counteract the mild throbbing on her forehead. The knot there was not nearly as bad as it could have been for running headfirst into a tree, mostly stinging from the abrasion left by the bark.

At the memory of tumbling into a forested ditch, Rhosyn's eyes snapped open. Instead of the dappled light of trees at night, or the dingy gray of a prison cell, her gaze focused on concerned green eyes.

"Ansel," she sighed, her voice a breathy croak.

"Rhosyn." Ansel's voice was hardly any better.

Movement beneath her drew attention to the firm thighs cradling her head, flexing as Ansel bent over his lap where she rested. Rhosyn had been knocked out more times than she cared to admit, and all those occasions would have been vastly improved by waking like this. Her instincts pushed her to rise and get back in the fight as soon as possible, but Ansel's gentle touch pulled her even more insistently to stay right where she was.

Although she wasn't entirely sure where here was.

"What…"

"We're back at the safehouse in the lower city," Ansel explained. His fingers drifted to her hair as he spoke, twisting a ringlet around his finger absently. "After the commotion died down and I put together what had happened, the performers and I started combing the area for you. Once we found you in the ditch, we snuck you into our carriage. We figured you were the least likely to be found out here."

"You found me," Rhosyn echoed. Ansel had known she would be wanted for trying to assassinate the king—a treason punishable by death—and he had hidden her among the Foxes anyways. He and his people would be seen as accomplices if she were caught, likely suffering the same punishment, but he had recounted the events like it hadn't been a choice. As if he hadn't even considered that it might have been an opportune time to sever their unlikely alliance.

"You could die for helping me," she croaked, the hoarseness in her voice no longer just from disuse. "Why would a gang leader risk himself for one crooked cop?"

Ansel's hands drifted down to cup her cheeks, so gentle that Rhosyn thought she might shatter. "I would think it was obvious."

Rhosyn stared up at him, a bubble of something warm forming in her chest as she waited for him to continue.

"I love you. Isn't it awful?" He chuckled dryly, with no small amount of affection, as though he couldn't conceive of how they had possibly ended up in this situation.

Rhosyn's breath caught, and she had a moment where she understood how Ansel must feel on the trapeze, right before letting go and trusting his fate to gravity. "The worst part is, I love you too."

All of this consternation about whether she was a Lion or an officer of the Royal Police faded to the background with the admission that she was a woman who had fallen in love under the most inconvenient circumstances.

"What are we going to do about it?" Ansel asked, seemingly half to himself.

A simple question held so much weight. With the disaster at the King's party and the horrible revelation that Mr. Gower appeared to be using his Talented servants to try to kill the King, the world outside this room held nothing but chaos for Rhosyn and Ansel.

"It certainly is problematic, given that my life is pretty much ruined and I'm well on my way to bringing you down with me," Rhosyn said.

Ansel smiled softly down at her. "Love is hardly ever convenient, but something tells me it's worth it, despite the trouble it causes."

Rhosyn's heart fluttered up into her throat. "Well then, I guess we'll just do what people in love do."

Before Ansel could ask her what she meant, Rhosyn surged upwards, crushing her lips to his. In an instant, his arms went around her shoulders, supporting her as she draped across his lap, holding her to him with a heady mix of firmness and gentleness.

Her lips moved over his, searching and insistent, but he did not yield to the franticness of her kiss. Instead, one hand came to hold her jaw, tilting her head to give him better access to her mouth. With her at his mercy, Ansel deepened the kiss, slowing the pace as his tongue slid against hers with single-minded focus.

Rhosyn whimpered, and Ansel drew back. Her lips chased his, but his hand at her jaw held her firmly in place.

"We shouldn't. Your head…" The rasp in Ansel's voice sent tingles all the way down to Rhosyn's toes.

"Is fine." Rhosyn insisted. She took advantage of their momentary pause to sit up all the way and throw one leg over Ansel's hips, so she straddled him. "Once we leave this room, there will be no escaping reality. But for now, I'm a woman in bed with a man who just told me he loves me. If this is all we will ever have, let me have this. Please."

Ansel let out a groan, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against Rhosyn's nipples. She squirmed, increasing the friction so they grew hard, begging for more attention.

"If you say ‘please' like that one more time, you won't be leaving this room until you are mine in every way."

"Show me," Rhosyn breathed.

Ansel obliged, diving forwards to nip and suck at her neck. The heat of his mouth drew a shiver from her. She squirmed, working to ruck up her skirts, still wearing the fortune teller dress. Hands grabbed her wrists, rough skin against her sensitive skin halting her.

"You asked me to show you, and that means I give you everything." His thumb drew small circles around the inside of her wrist, her pulse hammering against his touch. "Which also means you have to be patient."

Rhosyn's breath caught in her throat. The strange shimmering warmth that Rhosyn had felt before when he told her to be good washed through her again. Slowly, she nodded. Ansel smiled, the brightness of the adoration in his gaze doing nothing to detract from the feral edge of desire seeping into his posture.

Carefully, he unlaced her bodice, each drag of his fingers across the fabric tortuous as she waited for him to reach skin. When he finally pushed it off her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up, her hands flew to his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the firm muscle there, needing to hold on, as if she might fly away from the intensity of his gaze on her alone.

"Perfect," he murmured, before lowering to press an open mouth kiss to the valley between her breasts.

Rhosyn tipped her head back, eyes staring unfocused at the dingy wood ceiling. The single word echoed through her. Here with Ansel, she was not a Lion, a police officer, a brawler, or a thief. She was Rhosyn, and all she had to do to be perfect was just be. She wanted—needed—to watch Ansel come undone. Not because he expected anything of her in this moment, but because if she didn't give this man beneath her, who had given her so much, all the pleasure as she was capable of, she would regret it forever.

In one motion, she slid off Ansel's lap, landing on the floor between his thighs in a puddle of skirts.

"Rhosyn—"

"Please."

"Anything."

A fine tremor ran through Rhosyn's fingers as she undid his trousers, pulling them open and finally pulling Ansel's hard length free. As her fist closed around him, the guttural groan that ran through him sent heat rolling down her spine and into her core. While her gaze remained fixed on her hand around him, his fingers in her peripheral vision clenched the edge of the bed so hard they turned white.

Rhosyn's tongue darted out to lick her lips and glanced up at him through her lashes. He wore a thoroughly wrecked expression, even though she had just started touching him. His eyes went wide as she leaned forward, wrapping her lips around his head.

"Fuck."

Rhosyn was drunk on his reactions, the twitch of his manhood against her tongue and the strangled grunt of pleasure as she took as much of him into her mouth as she could. She began to slide up and down, but her gaze remained fixed on his face. Her eyes desperately catalogued every twitch of his jaw and the way his teeth dug into his lower lip as he tried to contain his desperate noises. Her rhythm faltered as she stared.

One of Ansel's hands came to hold her jaw, guiding her gently as his hips twitched.

"You're incredible like this," he growled. "I can't decide whether I like you better when you're throwing punches at me or when you're on your knees with your lips stretched around my cock."

Rhosyn whimpered around him, the noise unadulterated desperation.

"Maybe that's why I love you. Because I don't have to choose."

And I don't have to choose either, Rhosyn echoed in her mind, her mouth too busy to speak the words out loud.

Ansel pulled her off his length, and Rhosyn stared up at him with her mouth still hanging open. She only had a moment to admire him, his flushed face and the way his hair had fallen into his eyes, the silver piece gleaming in the lamplight, before he gathered her up into his arms and swung her onto the bed.

Her back landed on the mattress with enough force to make the ancient springs creak, but Ansel paid no mind, already prowling up her body. He shucked off his pants completely along the way, sitting up above her to pull his shirt off as well. Rhosyn took the cue to shimmy the dress the rest of the way down her hips, until their clothes lay in a discarded heap at the foot of the bed.

Once they were both completely bare, Ansel fell to his forearms, elbows bracketing her head. He circled his pelvis against hers, dipping into the considerable moisture that had gathered there, but not entering her yet.

Rhosyn bucked her hips, but one of his hands fell to her waist, pinning her down.

"Patience, love." He breathed the words into her neck before nipping at her collarbone.

Ansel sat back on his heels, pulling Rhosyn's hips into his lap. As he lined himself up at her entrance, a breathy moan escaped her, just the feeling of his tip stretching her open enough to drive her to the brink of madness she had been flirting with for so long.

The noise snapped his gaze to her face, and he pinned her there with it. Holding her eyes, he slowly pushed forward, sliding himself inside her inch by glorious inch. The tortuously slow drag made her eyelids flutter, but she dared not look away from the intensity of his expression. The expression that told him he saw her, not the mask of whatever role she was wearing, in this moment and all others.

Just as she saw him.

His hips met hers, and his mouth fell open in pleasure.

"So good. You take me so well," he panted.

Rhosyn hardly had time to register the zing of pleasure his words sent through her before he rolled his hips. At this angle, with her hips raised, his pelvis ground against her most sensitive spot and she gasped.

He repeated the action, grinding against her before withdrawing. He repeated the motion again and again, picking up speed until every thrust punched a breathy moan from her. As his hips pistoned into her, Ansel fell forward, bracing one hand on the wall above the headboard. The other gathered her wrists, bearing down on them with his weight and pinning her hands to the pillow above her head.

She rolled her hips against his, her world narrowing to the rising heat radiating out from her core, threatening to liquefy her into a pool of pleasure. But Ansel slowed, denying her the last bit of friction that would send her spiraling in pleasure.

She whimpered, and Ansel planted a kiss in the hollow just behind her ear. "Just a little more, Rhosyn."

The sound of her name on his lips, dripping with adoration and desperation, was all she needed to dive deeper into the well of pleasure he was driving her into. She tunneled further and further into the roiling inferno of her impending release as his hips snapped against hers relentlessly.

Rhosyn tossed her head side to side, as if it could help her contain the intensity of the moment. But at that instant, Ansel picked up his pace, his own control snapping as he chased his release.

The tension within Rhosyn shattered, so hard it bordered between pleasure and pain as she cried out her release. Her back arched and fireworks danced behind her eyes. She convulsed around Ansel, making it almost impossible for him to withdraw as he stuttered through a few more thrusts before spending himself inside her with a broken groan.

"Rhosyn."

They both drew in long, shuddering breaths as Ansel's forehead came to rest on her collarbone. He released her wrists from his grasp, and she moved her hands to his head, where she gently carded her fingers through his hair. The thin sheen of sweat covering both of them glimmered ethereally in the flickering lantern light. It combined with the deep quiet of early morning, amplified by the rushing of blood finally calming in Rhosyn's ears, to give the moment an otherworldly effect. As if the world beyond this room didn't exist, and they were held in the perfect bubble of this moment.

When it popped, the direness of their situation would sink back in. But for now, Rhosyn let Ansel bundle her into his arms as he rolled off her onto his side. For now, there was nothing besides his fingers in her hair and whispered praises between the kisses he pressed to the top of her head.