17. Chapter 17

seventeen

M adness.

Madness was the only word to describe the turbulent storm raging inside Nevander as he forced himself to let go of Kallessa. His fingers trailed along her soft skin, unwilling to break contact. Every inch of his body burned with an intensity he’d never known, a searing desire that consumed him utterly.

He sucked in a ragged breath, the scent of her hair flooding his senses. Blossoms and honey, sweet and intoxicating. The memory of her lips on his would be forever seared into his mind, her taste branded onto his soul. How could one woman undo him so completely?

Nevander clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms as he fought for control. Heat coiled low in his abdomen, muscles tensing with the urge to pull her back into his embrace. To drown in her kisses once more. He swallowed hard against the desire clawing at his throat. This... this was madness.

His gaze snapped to the prince. Castien stood quietly, the faint click of his signet ring tapping against the back of a chair the only sound in the taut silence. Nevander’s thoughts churned in chaos, his pulse hammering at his temples as he ground his teeth. Did that bastard set this whole thing up ?

Beside him, Kallessa straightened her gown, the fabric rustling softly under her fingers. She attempted to slow her own breath, the air feeling heavy and charged.

Shame washed over Nevander. He’d behaved like an animal, devouring her as if she were merely a vessel for the tempest raging inside him. He’d let the darkness take over, feeding it with each desperate caress, each fevered kiss as he ravaged her.

His stomach churned as memories of his last drunken night with his brother, Tarrick, surfaced. Waking up next to a strange woman, the room reeking of vodka and vomit, with no recollection of what had transpired. He’d sworn never to lose control like that again.

If Castien wasn’t staring at them, waiting for an answer, he would have fallen to his knees and begged for forgiveness. He was a prince of the realm, not some beast driven by base instincts.

Kallessa swallowed, a small, audible click in her throat betraying her nervousness.

Of all the times he’d had to uphold this ridiculous charade, to pretend he hadn’t grown up with Castien, hadn’t spent countless summers running around the estate with him, this was the absolute worst.

He glanced down at Kallessa. Her lips were lusciously swollen and pink from his kisses, their taste lingering on his tongue. Her cheeks were still flushed. Her hair was only loosely held by the few pins left, the whole knot raked to the side. She looked like a creature out of a dream, one he could never claim.

“If you’re searching for the fourth clue,” Castien’s voice broke the silence, the sound smooth and velvety, “you were close. Although I don’t think you were too concerned about the game, from the looks of it. ”

Kallessa curtsied, a curl falling down her shoulder. “We were somehow trapped, my lord. The fireplace, you see.” She gestured behind them.

Castien rubbed his chin. “Ah yes. You found great-grandfather Ravenbluff’s hidden liquor cabinet. His vintages were the envy of his peers.”

The prince strolled toward the fireplace and gently pressed a moss-green book to the left, stepping back from the platform. “I suppose it’s a bit of a booby trap too, for those who are overly nosy.” The fireplace swung open slowly, revealing the entrance to the small room. “You have to press the book just right, not too much.”

Sunlight streamed into the recess, painting the granite walls in soft light and shadow. Nevander’s stomach clenched as he stared into that tiny cell. The stark walls, once so oppressive, now stood benign in the afternoon glow. A creamy card with golden letters rested solitary on a high shelf, as if waiting for this exact moment of discovery.

Castien stepped back. “I must be running along now. Enjoy the rest of the game. Maybe stay out of dark places, just in case.” Then he winked at Kallessa.

Nevander suppressed a sudden urge to knock the prince across the room. Castien was toying with them. But of course he was. That’s what he did.

Kallessa turned as soon as Castien disappeared and swiftly reentered that dreadful little space, snatching the card off of the shelf before slipping back out.

Before she could break the seal, Nevander grasp her hand. Startled, she looked up, her golden eyes wide .

He wanted to crush her to him, to feel those soft curves against his body again, to kiss those luscious lips. The pain of separation shot through his chest.

But he dropped his hands from hers and stepped back, feeling the cool air between them.

“Please let me apologize. I didn’t behave as a gentleman should. I took advantage of you. It won’t happen again.” His body cried out against him at those words. She’d been his savior, his anchor in that darkness, where he was drowning in a sea of nightmares.

But he was using her. Like so many others, he was using her to push away the horrors of the bloody war. And he’d sworn to himself he would never do that again.

Kallessa’s eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t mind.”

Oh, this woman! She didn’t mind? Did she have any idea what that did to the barely leashed desire in him? He clenched his fists, feeling his blunt nails cut into his palms.

“It won’t happen again,” he said, his voice strained like a bowstring.

Kallessa’s lashes fluttered, a weight in the air as tangible as the towering bookshelves that surrounded them. She looked down at the card in her hand, her fingers tracing the embossed letters. When she looked up, a forced smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t have done that. I’ll behave from now on.”

“Listen, it wasn’t you,” he said. Although, it was entirely her. Everything about her sung to him. Her sweet voice, her big damn doe eyes, those curves, those lips.

“I’m entirely at fault. I sought to distract you,” she continued .

Yes, but out of concern. She’d thought about him, his wellbeing. What had he been thinking about? Himself.

Nevander’s gaze swept across the room. Long beams of glowing afternoon sun illuminated the dark wood paneling, such a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness of mere moment before. But that darkness now hid a sweet ache of desire inside him.

He forced his gaze back to her, forced his features back into their pleasant mask. It was the hardest thing he’d done in months.

“Let’s just forget this happened, alright?”

He wouldn’t forget it. He’d add it to his list of memories that haunted his nights.

Kallessa walked across the library to a mirror where she repaired her hair, her slender hands deftly twisting and pinning her locks back into place before turning to him, her face still flushed.

“Of course,” she said. Then she smiled, but he caught the faintest tremble of her lips before she continue. “We still have a treasure to find, don’t we?”

The day slipped away in a whirlwind of clues, laughter, and exploration. Yet with each lull in conversation, Kallessa’s mind drifted back to that unforgettable kiss.

She closed her eyes, and the memory engulfed her. Nevander’s scent—a blend of cedar, sunshine, and raw desire, wrapped around her. His lips, velvety and insistent, had seared a promise of heat into her world of chilled solitude. Her skin still tingled where his fingers had traced paths of fire, where he’d held her tightly against his hard planes.

In all her twenty-two years, Kallessa had never known it could be like this between a man and a woman. She’d seen her parents kiss before, but this... This was an awakening, raw and unparalleled, leaving her with a yearning she couldn’t name.

Now she sat in her chambers, alone. Staring at the Axan moon trophy on the dresser. It was beautiful in its own right. The lustrous wood carving of a moon caught in a claw, sinuous vines and blooming flowers twining around the base. The flicker of the fireplace made it glow golden.

Too bad it wasn’t actually a pile of gold. But what person invited to the illustrious Ravenbluff estate, home of the royal Krithadean family, was teetering on the edge of destitution? Of course, the reward wouldn’t be monetary. Such things were an insult to the wealthy.

When this bubble burst in a week and a half, the trophy would stay here when she left. She’d leave it behind like everything, and everyone, else. Not a new concept.

But that ridiculous trophy symbolized freedom, however tenuous it might be. If Prince Castien kept his word, he’d share her ideas with the princess of Dracia. One last chance at salvation.

One and a half weeks. That’s all the time she had left with Nevander. It was unsettling how close she felt to him already, drawn in by his attentiveness, the way he saw her as an equal, shared his own thoughts.

Kissed her like a starving man.

Then treated her like his kid sister the rest of the day .

Exhaustion crashed over Kallessa. She flopped back against the plush pillows, blowing stray strands of hair from her flushed face. Gingerly, she traced the curve of her lips with her fingertips, savoring the lingering tingle of Nevander’s kiss. That heated moment in the shadows had been pure ecstasy, his mouth devouring hers with a hunger that left her breathless and aching for more.

Yet afterwards, he’d pretended nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t coaxed those gasps of pleasure from her. Her cheeks burned. She wasn’t as good at pretending as he was.

A sudden scraping noise from his chambers made her tense. It sounded like furniture being dragged across the floor with screeching protest. She tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against the shared barrier. What was he doing in there?

The adjoining door to Kallessa’s chambers taunted Nevander. Mocked him with its mere three inches of wood separating them. His fingers tingled with the urge to turn the knob. Open the door.

Perhaps he’d find her at the dressing table, brushing her hair. Or in an upholstered chair, feet drawn up, reading a book.

Or sprawled across that vast bed, tousled hair framing flushed cheeks, a gauzy chemise draped across her soft body—

He jerked his thoughts back, scanning the room frantically. The chest of drawers. Perfect. He shoved it across the floor, barricading the door. It screeched, sending up a plume of dust in its wake. Not enough. He added two chairs for good measure .

He tapped his foot, then paced the room. He had to get out of there.

Snatching his cloak, he strode from the room, ignoring Akeela’s protesting meow.

Nevander found Castien back in the sunroom, braziers blasting heat and stinking flowers coating his nostrils. A fat crescent moon sat on the horizon.

As Nevander entered, Castien glanced up, his eyes bleary and glazed.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said, his voice slurring slightly. He was draped over a cushioned armchair in the corner, his body in shadow, shirt half unbuttoned. His pale chest glistened in the sliver of moonlight, each rib jutting out against his abdomen.

“Too bad.” Nevander flung off his cloak and dropped into the chair beside him. “I’m not leaving.”

Castien stared out across the vast darkness beyond the windows before he closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair. Silence stretched between them. The put-together prince, always dressed for the occasion, never showing vulnerability, now looked disheveled. His sleek black hair fell in disarray across his forehead, his boots kicked off his stocking feet. A silver tray held browning apple slices next to an empty goblet stained with a dark reddish liquid on the table between them.

Nevander lifted the goblet, a sickly sweet scent curling in his nostrils. Laudanum. He set it down, stomach churning.

“I take no responsibility for anything I say tonight,” Castien mumbled. “Be warned.”

“We are pathetic, the two of us,” he continued, his voice a hollow shadow of its usual commanding tone. “I’ve drugged myself into oblivion to escape this broken shell.” He cracked open his eyes, meeting Nevander’s gaze. “And you, the tragic war hero, ensnared by his own past.”

The war. Nevander hadn’t thought about it since the library, when an angel had banished those thoughts with her touch, her warmth. What happened when these two weeks ended?

“War is nothing but horror,” Nevander said bitterly. “There’s no honor in killing. No victory for survivors.”

“You felt the glory of a good fight.” Castien's voice rose. “Don’t lie and tell me you didn’t. You were out fighting, leading, while I was trapped here, suffering.” He swiped his hair from his shadowed gray eyes, his movement jerky.

“Is that what you think you missed? Glory?” Nevander pushed up from his chair and paced the room, his boots echoing hollowly on the stone floor. He shoved his hands through his hair. “I watched my men die . My men. They trusted me to lead them. Instead, they were all slaughtered like cattle in those frozen mountains.” Blood and screams flooded his senses—metallic tang mixing with icy air, terrified faces lit by firelight. Boys, hardly grown, looking to their captain with hope. Hope he’d failed to provide.

He knelt before Castien, whose unfocused eyes tracked him. “I’m glad you weren’t there. You don’t have those memories haunting every moment.”

Castien’s lips curled into what could have been a smile, or it could have been a sneer. “Do you know there’s a ballad written about Prince Nevander, the bravest captain in the Dracian navy?” He laughed, the sound harsh against the glass walls. “Would you like me to sing it to you?”

Nevander jerked up. “Stop it.”

“And the women all swoon every time the bards sing of your exploits. Sooo romantic!” Castien leaned forward, his pale eyes glinting in the wavering light. “And while you were away at sea, doing your princely duty and having stirring ballads written about your valor in battle, I was back here, pissing the bed and being spoon fed by a nurse like a helpless, bedridden child.” His last words came out as a harsh whisper.

The anger drained from Nevander. He sank back into his chair, his bones suddenly feeling old beyond his years. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry about the whole mess. About Dane, about it all. But I’m still not sorry you didn’t fight in the war.”

Castien turned away, his eyes shut once more, his head resting against the velvet cushion. The weak moonlight laid melancholic stripes on the stonework, interspersed with patches of darkness formed by the panes.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “I know you weren’t hunting for suspects today, since you were wrapped around that pretty lady Kallessa like a vine.”

There were no bloody suspects. Nevander hadn’t seen a single thing out of place since the two Birazahians talking trash about the Ravenbluff family. And Castien had dismissed that.

“You have to move her back to her own rooms, or new rooms across the estate.” Nevander squeezed the armchair cushions, the leather protesting under his fingertips. “Or perhaps to a neighbor’s estate.”

Castien barked a short laugh. “Engagement going well, then?”

Nevander shook his head, his jaw clenching. “I can’t have her that close to me.” Flashes of heat and skin invaded his thoughts and he pushed them away .

Castien remained silent, eyes closed again. He looked like a rag doll, draped limply across the upholstered chair, boneless and exhausted, his slender wrist dangling over the carved mahogany armrest. His face was pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes.

“Why did you plan the treasure hunt for us indoors while everyone else was outside?” Nevander asked. “What are you up to?”

“Do you know who she is?” Castien mumbled. His lips barely moved as he spoke.

“I know her name, where she’s from. I know her kisses are addictive.” Nevander dropped his face into his hands. “That’s why I’m here instead of there.”

“If I were engaged, I’d try to get to know my fiancé better.” Castien’s words had dropped to a whisper.

“We’re not engaged!” Nevander exploded, his hands jerking from his face.

Castien watched him from under weighted lids, something dark sliding behind his pale eyes.

“Sometimes I hate you, Nevander Lionskye.” Castien said as his eyes fluttered shut. That usual sardonic, smooth tenor was gone. In its place was something broken. In his words, was a heartache Nevander had never heard before. An injury that ran deeper than he could have imagined.

There was a long pause before the prince continued, his breaths smoothing out, on the verge of sleep. “I wish I had someone to love.” Castien slurred out those last words before he began to softly snore.