The Gilded Bride

Chapter 16: Where she Belongs

King Demitri understood immediately.

The moment he saw the romance novel loosely resting in Queen Elowen’s hands,

the moment he noticed the exhaustion beneath her eyes,

the moment he realized she had confined herself to her chambers for an entire week,

he knew.

She had been just as miserable as him.

The realization settled something deep and ugly inside his chest.

Because during those endless nights near the border, he had imagined her angry.

Perhaps embarrassed.

Possibly avoiding him.

Never once had he imagined she might have been waiting for him.

Longing for him.

The thought alone nearly undid him.

Demitri stood quietly beside the sleeping queen while candlelight flickered softly across the room.

The chamber looked different now.

Warmer.

Romance novels littered nearly every surface beside her usual stacks of political and economic texts. Some rested open-faced beside blankets while others remained piled carelessly near the lounge chair.

Demitri picked one up curiously.

The Duke’s Forbidden Bride.

He stared at the title for several seconds.

Then at Elowen.

Then back at the book.

A dangerous smile tugged faintly at his mouth.

God.

This was becoming unbearable.

Because somehow every new thing he learned about her only made him want her more.

The queen stirred softly then.

Demitri immediately set the book down before she woke fully.

Elowen shifted beneath the blankets with a faint sleepy sound, red hair spilling messily across the cushions.

Then slowly,

her eyes opened.

Soft blue met silver immediately.

And for one quiet moment,

she simply stared at him.

Dreaming.

She had to be dreaming.

Because Demitri looked almost unreal beneath candlelight tonight.

Dark clothing still dusted faintly with travel snow.

Silver eyes fixed entirely on her.

Tall.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

And somehow looking at her like she mattered.

A sleepy smile touched her lips before she could stop it.

Demitri nearly lost his mind.

Because it was not careful.

Not restrained.

Not guarded.

It was soft and instinctive and heartbreakingly genuine.

As though she was happy merely seeing him.

God.

Demitri’s chest tightened painfully.

Elowen blinked slowly.

Once.

Twice.

Then realization struck her like lightning.

Her eyes widened violently.

She shot upright so quickly the book nearly fell from her lap entirely.

“Your Majesty!”

Demitri leaned casually against the nearby bookshelf, perfectly composed despite internally unraveling from how adorable she looked startled awake.

“You seem disappointed to find me real.”

Elowen looked horrified.

“I did not know you were here.”

“I noticed.”

Her cheeks flushed immediately.

Demitri’s gaze drifted deliberately toward the romance novel still resting beside her.

A very slow smirk appeared.

“So,” he said calmly, “what kind of military strategy does this book contain?”

Elowen froze.

Then looked toward the book.

Then back toward him.

Then back toward the book again.

And finally,

she turned scarlet.

Completely scarlet.

Demitri enjoyed every second of it.

“I,”

“The duke on the cover appears highly tactical.”

Elowen grabbed the book immediately and clutched it against her chest like evidence of treason.

Demitri nearly laughed.

“You are enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

“This is cruel.”

“Yes.”

Elowen looked ready to disappear into another dimension entirely.

God.

She was beautiful like this.

Flustered.

Alive.

Warm.

Demitri stepped closer slowly, amusement softening into something gentler the nearer he came.

Elowen immediately forgot how breathing worked again.

He reached toward her carefully.

And for half a second, she thought he might take the book.

Instead,

his fingers brushed softly against her temple.

Then tucked a loose strand of crimson hair behind her ear.

The intimacy of such a small gesture nearly shattered her composure completely.

Demitri’s expression softened.

“I should have informed you before leaving.”

Elowen blinked softly.

The apology startled her more than the touch.

“You… did not have to.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I did.”

She stared at him uncertainly.

Because Demitri never explained himself before.

Never apologized.

Never clarified where he went or why.

Yet here he was now standing before her looking genuinely regretful.

“I received reports about attacks near the northern borders,” he explained softly. “I left immediately.”

Elowen’s fingers loosened slightly around the book.

“But the reports were false.”

Demitri nodded once.

“Someone deliberately spread misinformation.”

Concern flickered across her face instantly.

“Were you hurt?”

The question came so naturally she did not even realize she asked it aloud.

Demitri looked momentarily stunned.

Then something warm crossed his features.

“No.”

Relief visibly softened her shoulders.

And suddenly,

Demitri understood something terrifying.

She truly cared.

Not because he was king.

Not obligation.

Not duty.

Elowen cared for him.

The realization nearly destroyed whatever restraint remained inside him.

Because god,

he wanted to pull her directly into his arms right now.

Instead he leaned closer slowly.

Giving her time.

Giving her choice.

“Elowen.”

Her heartbeat stumbled immediately.

“Yes?”

“I missed you.”

The honesty of it stole every coherent thought from her mind.

Demitri watched the exact moment those words affected her.

The widened eyes.

The shaky inhale.

The way her lips parted slightly in surprise.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

He leaned closer.

And this time,

when his hand cupped gently against her cheek,

Elowen did not freeze.

She leaned into it.

Only slightly.

But enough.

Enough to make something possessive and hungry flare violently inside him.

Demitri kissed her softly at first.

Slow.

Warm.

Testing.

Elowen melted almost immediately.

The romance novels had not prepared her for this at all.

For the way his lips moved carefully against hers.

For how warm his hand felt against her skin.

For the dizzying sensation of being wanted so openly.

Demitri deepened the kiss slowly, thumb brushing lightly beneath her jaw while Elowen instinctively clutched weakly at the front of his coat.

The tiny gesture nearly ruined him.

God.

She trusted him enough to hold onto him.

Demitri pulled back only slightly, forehead resting briefly against hers while both breathed unevenly.

“Elowen,” he murmured softly.

She looked impossibly flustered.

“Yes?”

“Move into my chambers.”

Her brain stopped functioning briefly.

“What?”

“My chambers,” he repeated calmly. “Move there.”

Elowen blinked several times.

Move into his chambers?

With him?

Every day?

Every night?

The thought made her entire body warm instantly.

And yet,

fear crept in just as quickly.

Because things were good now.

Fragile but good.

What if she ruined it?

What if he realized he did not actually want her near constantly?

What if,

“This arrangement is ideal,” she said quietly before she could stop herself.

Silence.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Demitri’s expression hardened slightly.

“Ideal.”

Elowen immediately realized something was wrong.

“I only meant,”

“You are my wife.”

His voice remained calm.

Too calm.

“You should be beside me.”

Elowen looked overwhelmed.

“I am already beside you.”

“No,” Demitri said sharply. “You are hidden away in another tower.”

Her chest tightened.

“That was your decision.”

The words slipped out quietly.

Demitri stilled completely.

And immediately,

anger flared.

Not because she was wrong.

Because she was right.

Still, hearing it spoken aloud struck directly against his pride.

“I am correcting that decision now.”

Elowen looked down instinctively.

“I only thought perhaps…”

“What?”

“That things are good like this.”

Something dangerous flickered through Demitri’s eyes then.

Because to him,

good was not enough anymore.

He wanted more.

More of her time.

More of her presence.

More of her.

And hearing her refuse him,

even gently,

sparked something irrationally territorial inside him.

Demitri stepped back abruptly.

“Very well.”

Elowen immediately regretted everything.

But before she could explain herself,

he turned and left.

The chamber doors closed heavily behind him.

Leaving silence.

And confusion.

And regret.

---

Midnight arrived cold and restless.

Elowen wandered the gardens miserably.

Moonlight spilled silver across the pathways while icy winds rustled softly through the roses.

She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and sighed quietly.

Wonderful.

She upset him.

Again.

God.

Why did every conversation with Demitri feel like stepping through traps she could not see?

She should have simply agreed.

But moving into his chambers felt terrifyingly intimate.

Permanent somehow.

Dangerous.

Elowen wandered deeper into the gardens absentmindedly.

Then stopped suddenly.

Demitri stood near the fountain already waiting for her.

Tall.

Dark.

Watching her approach with unreadable silver eyes.

Elowen’s heartbeat immediately quickened.

“You are here,” she said softly.

“I live here.”

“That is not what I meant.”

A faint smirk touched his mouth briefly before disappearing.

He stepped toward her slowly.

“Have you reconsidered?”

Straight to the point.

Elowen sighed softly.

“Your Majesty,”

“Demitri.”

The correction came immediately.

Elowen swallowed.

“Demitri… I do not understand why this matters so much.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Because you are my queen.”

She looked away nervously.

“That has never mattered before.”

The quiet honesty of the statement struck him harder than expected.

Demitri exhaled slowly before stepping closer.

“People are talking.”

Elowen blinked.

“What?”

“They believe our marriage false.”

That part, at least, was not entirely a lie.

Court whispers had existed from the beginning.

Though perhaps not as dramatic as he implied now.

Elowen frowned faintly.

“They mock you,” Demitri continued smoothly. “They say the king cannot even keep his wife beside him.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

Demitri hid his satisfaction expertly.

“Who says this?”

“Nobles.”

That sounded believable enough.

Elowen looked uncertain.

Suspicious even.

But also guilty.

And Demitri knew immediately he had won.

“You truly wish me to move there?”

“Yes.”

The answer came instantly.

Firmly.

Like there had never been another possibility.

Warmth spread slowly through Elowen’s chest.

Dangerous warmth again.

And finally,

very softly,

“Alright.”

Demitri went still.

Then something dark and pleased flickered across his face so quickly she almost missed it.

“Good.”

The word sounded far too satisfied.

Elowen suddenly suspected manipulation.

But before she could question it further,

Demitri stepped closer and brushed gloved fingers softly against her jaw.

And immediately every coherent thought disappeared again.

---

Far south of Delmatia,

war began quietly beneath darkness.

Torches burned violently across the southern borders while soldiers screamed through smoke and steel.

The attacking banners flew proudly beneath moonlight.

Gold.

White.

And crimson.

The royal crest of Norwasia.