The First Crown

The Burning

Lilliana

All day, I was useless.

Maren teased me for staring out the window, Evelyne rolled her eyes at my sudden cheerfulness, and even Father noticed my distraction at the midday meal. I smiled when spoken to, nodded when expected, and heard nothing. The hours dragged, stubborn and heavy, as though the sun itself wished to punish me for wanting night to come too soon.

When the last bells rang and the keep dimmed, I bathed and dressed with careful hands. My pulse skipped faster with every ribbon tied, every clasp fastened, as though each piece of clothing drew me closer to him.

Briallen saw me on my way out and only sighed, handing me a light shawl. “Don’t come back with twigs in your hair,” she muttered, though the corners of her mouth softened.

I bit back a laugh and kissed her cheek. “I won’t.”

The orchard was hushed tonight, the grass silvered by moonlight, the branches hanging low as though listening. My heart thudded in my ears as I reached the barred gate.

He was already there, waiting just as he had promised.

Reade leaned against the post, his arms folded, the moon gilding the edge of his jaw and turning his hair to white fire. When I stepped into the clearing, he straightened. For a moment, we only looked at one another.

Then he smiled. The kind of smile no one else in the world got to see. I went to him without hesitation. His fingers closed around mine, warm and sure, and he led me down the familiar path, away from the keep and the world that would not understand.

The clearing waited like a secret. The rug was already spread, two lanterns glowing low, and a second blanket lay folded neatly nearby.

“You thought I might be cold,” I said softly, touched.

“I thought you might stay longer if you were comfortable.” His mouth curved, a flicker of shyness there that made my heart ache.

The words seemed to settle between us, heavy with meaning. The air grew thick and quiet. My hands trembled slightly where they rested in my lap, my heart beating so hard I wondered if he could feel it.

He reached for me first, his calloused fingers brushing mine. I let him draw me closer, let him tilt my chin up, and when he kissed me, I rose to meet him eagerly.

The kiss was slow at first, coaxing, but when I sighed against his mouth, he deepened it. His arm came around me, pulling me closer, until I was half in his lap again, my back pressed against his chest. The world outside the circle of lantern light ceased to exist.

I shifted restlessly, unable to keep still. The ache that had haunted me since the last night in the corridor was back, sharper now, more insistent.

“Reade,” I whispered, breaking the kiss.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ragged, as though he could steady me by sheer force of will. “What is it, little star?”

“I—” My voice caught, my chest so tight it almost ached. The words felt too big and too small all at once. “I feel as though I am burning from the inside out. Like there’s a fire under my skin and I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t think, I can barely breathe—” My fingers curled into the fabric at his thighs that caged me so warmly, as though I might climb inside his very chest if it would ease the fever. “I feel as if I’ll come apart if you don’t touch me.”

He went very still. For a long moment he didn’t speak, only searched my face, as though deciding if I truly meant it. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything,” I whispered.

He made a sound low in his chest, half groan, half prayer. “Then tell me to stop if you need me to.”

My skirts spilled over us like a curtain, hiding us from the world but I could still see the way his rough hand slipped beneath the fabric, knuckles brushing my knee before sliding higher.

“Easy,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Let me take this from you.”

Then his fingers found me.

I gasped, sharp and startled, my head falling back against his shoulder. His touch was slow, deliberate, tracing over the slickness he’d coaxed from me, circling lazily as though he couldn’t stop himself from learning every inch of me by feel.

“Saints,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the side of my neck. “You’re so soft here.”

The words sent a shiver through me, my thighs clenching instinctively. My hips shifted, chasing his touch, and a whimper escaped before I could swallow it down.

“That’s it,” he said roughly, guiding my rhythm with one hand while the other slid into the front of my gown. His palm cupped my breast, thumb brushing over the peak in slow, devastating strokes that made my breath stutter.

“Look at you,” he whispered against my hair, the words hoarse. “So beautiful like this. Mine.”

I could feel him hard beneath me, and the press of it made me shudder. The pressure built until my whole body trembled, my fingers clutching at his thighs for purchase.

He didn’t stop didn’t let me escape the feeling tracing me until I broke apart in his arms, a choked cry escaping as pleasure crashed over me like a wave. He held me through it, his teeth grazing my shoulder, his hand still moving in slow, reverent strokes as though he couldn’t quite stop touching me.

I sagged back against him, still trembling, my breath coming in shaky bursts. For a long moment, there was only the sound of my heartbeat, the weight of his arm holding me steady.

Then, softly, I asked, “Do you… do you feel it too? The same release?”

Reade’s chest rose and fell against my back, a rough sound escaping him that might have been a laugh. “It’s different for me,” he said,.

Something in me sparked at his words boldness or madness, I couldn’t tell. My hand slid down, brushing over the front of his breeches until I found the hard, straining length of him beneath.

Reade went very still, he growled, low and feral, the sound rumbling through his chest and into my spine. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist, though not hard enough to hurt.

“Lillie,” he said, my name a warning and a prayer all at once.

I looked down, heart pounding, my fingers still pressed against him. “I want to know,” I whispered.

His breath hissed through his teeth, and for a moment I thought he might push me away but instead he guided my hand, slow and sure, until I felt the full shape of him under my palm.

“That’s me,” he ground out. “That’s what you do to me.”

The heat in his voice made me shiver, my own breath quickening as I traced him through the fabric.

“Enough,” he said at last, voice hoarse. He caught my hand and pressed it flat against his chest instead, holding it there as if to remind himself where the line was. “If you keep going, Lillie, I won’t stop. Not tonight.”

We stayed like that for a long time, my head on his chest, his fingers combing idly through my hair until the lanterns burned low. When at last we stood, he wrapped the spare blanket around my shoulders and walked me back to the gate.

At the edge of the orchard, he kissed my forehead, lingering, and said, “Go. Before I forget what patience is.”

I smiled, kissed him once more quick, soft, like a promise and slipped away.

I had nearly reached the keep steps when I froze.

Movement.

A shadow at the far edge of the orchard. It stood too still for wind to claim it, too tall for a deer. By the time I blinked, it was gone swallowed by the trees.

A chill ran down my spine despite the warmth still humming in my blood.

I gathered my skirts and hurried inside, my heart pounding for a reason that had nothing to do with Reade’s hands.