Ruins And Royalty

Clarification and a Belated Birthday Gift - Chp 11 Part 3

The moon spilled silver light across the courtyard, the ocean beyond lying still and silent beneath it. From the balcony, Zander stood unmoving, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, gaze locked on the horizon as though the world itself had offended him. His expression was shadowed, troubled even, simmering with something caught between sorrow and irritation.

I approached slowly, steadying my breath, as my thoughts became more tangled. When I finally reached his side, before I could summon the courage to speak, his voice cut through the night.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The words weren’t sharp but cold, delivered with a weight that sank into me like stone. My stomach turned. How could he think that? From the moment the Windane royals had set foot in Emperos, the only thing I had wanted was to be with him.

“No. Not in the slightest,” I answered, my voice firm, eyes fixed on him. Yet my honesty did nothing to soften his mood. His silence pressed heavily, leaving me desperate for answers.

“You’ve ignored me since the moment you arrived at the harbor. Why?” I demanded, frustration slipping into my tone.

Zander finally turned to me, his eyes wide with disbelief, his disappointment unmistakable as he stepped closer.

“I will acknowledge you,” he said, voice edged with fury, “when you’ve apologized for leaving me cold in the rain, walking away as though I meant nothing, just to chase your hunt.”

His words struck like a blade. I reeled, confusion clawing at me. “What are you talking about? I sent you a letter. I apologized. I explained everything!”

He froze, brows drawing together, his anger faltering into bewilderment.

“What letter…?” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice low, uncertain. He stepped back, squinting at me as though seeing me for the first time.

“I sent you a letter, Zander,” I said, softening my voice.

“I never received one.” His eyes dropped to the floor, shame tugging at his features, as if the weight of his earlier accusations now pressed heavy on him.

“That’s… unfortunate.” My irritation slipped through in the sigh that followed. “I’ll be having words with the royal messengers. To think all this trouble came from a letter lost on the road…”

“I-I apologize for my behavior,” Zander stammered, the faintest flush creeping into his cheeks.

“Were you truly so upset, thinking I hadn’t apologized?” I asked, studying his face. Something else lingered beneath his unease, something unsaid.

“Partly,” he admitted, uncertain, his tone betraying hesitation.

“Or…” I tilted my head, eyes narrowing, “does this have to do with your sister’s conduct toward me tonight?”

“N-no,” he said quickly, startled by the suggestion. His flustered expression tugged a small smile from me, though I held it back.

“What exactly did you write in that letter?” he asked suddenly, straightening his posture, eager to redirect the conversation.

I scratched at the back of my neck, glancing away. “I apologized… for overstepping. Touching your face, and, well, all of that.”

“You thought that was why I was angry?” he asked, puzzled.

“Of course. That, and storming off the way I did,” I admitted, discomfort prickling at me as I forced myself to name my faults.

His eyes hardened, though his voice stayed calm. “I was displeased by how abruptly you left. How you shifted from gentle to dismissive in a heartbeat. Ordering me not to see you off…”

So, it wasn’t the touch that lingered with him. It was my withdrawal.

“Then you weren’t appalled by what I did? By...by touching you?” I asked carefully, my words circling the truth I dared not state outright. Zander’s expression softened, the harsh edges melting away. Moonlight caught in his emerald eyes, brightening them until they seemed lit from within.

“No. I was not,” he said quietly, offering me a small, tender smile.

“But your eyes… I thought I saw fear there,” I pressed, still uncertain, searching his face for a trace of what I had seen that day.

“You must have misread me.” His brow furrowed lightly, as though pained by the thought, and suddenly I felt foolish. I had convinced myself of his distress, when all along it was my own guilt gnawing at me. Relief washed over me. He didn’t despise me, nor recoil from my closeness.

“I apologize for storming off so coldly,” I said at last, straightening my posture with formality. Yet before he could answer, the words rushed out of me again. “But if you weren’t appalled by my actions… then what were you?”

“I was waiting to see what you would do next,” Prince Zander admitted, his voice faltering as his face flushed crimson.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a relentless blacksmith at his forge, as I stood there drinking in his endearing reaction. My stomach writhed with a nest of restless birds, and a flood of emotions crashed over me so wild and overwhelming, impossible to control. A thousand reckless possibilities darted through my mind, images of what I might have done had I not torn myself away.

I tried to picture the same sensations with the Youngest Princess of Yarrow, Izara Windane. I imagined tracing my hand along her cheek, down to her lips, or sharing such intimacy with anyone else. But the images rang hollow, implausible. Even when Izara herself touched me repeatedly in the Triclinium, I had felt nothing. No pleasure, no thrill. Only irritation.

But with Zander… it was different. When my fingers had brushed his skin, it was as though a current surged through me, coursing into him, binding us with something far greater than physical touch. His presence alone felt like sunlight breaking through the bleakest winter sky, casting warmth over a world I had long known only as cold and dark.

“What were you going to do?” he asked suddenly, dragging me out of my thoughts. I froze, mind scrambling and dumbfounded. The truth was, I didn’t even know what my next move would have been. I had been swept too deeply into the moment to even think beyond it.

“What did you want me to do?” I countered, quick-witted, unwilling to dig myself deeper into uncertainty. Prince Zander’s eyes widened. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, as if holding back a torrent of words. I saw the hesitation flicker across his face, but I leaned closer, urging him silently. “You can trust me with your answer,” I said softly, meaning every word.

I could see the coils turning in Zander’s head like the mechanism of a padlock turned by a brass key. His gaze searched mine in a desperate attempt for appropriate answers. There was restraint there and I was eager to break through.

The night was quiet, except for the gentle warm breeze that suddenly swept up a wave of white curtains as they now rippled like water past an ivy-invested stone column. It created the perfect opportunity my eyes dared not miss.

“Let me show you,” I whispered, my voice low and urgent. Without waiting, I grabbed his arm, pulling him through the fluttering curtains. The fabric shielded us from the world, wrapping us in a private, trembling silence.

I pressed him against the stone pillar, my hand sliding to his waist while the other cupped his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against my palm. My lips found his, soft at first, tasting and testing, before the fire between us ignited. His body stiffened in surprise, then surrendered, his hands tangling in the back of my hair, drawing me impossibly closer. Our mouths met with fierce, desperate hunger, a storm of longing we had both held in for far too long.

Every breath, every gasp mingled between us, and in that stolen moment behind the curtains, the world outside ceased to exist.

He slipped his tongue into my mouth, a bold, intoxicating surprise that sent shivers through me, and I surrendered gladly, drinking in the very essence of him. I pressed closer, every inch of my body molding to his, matching the rhythm of his desire. His hands roamed over me with a heat that stole my breath, tracing the ridges of my muscles, teasing and gripping, learning every curve and hollow with a possessive reverence. Each touch drove a pulse of lightning through me, a delicious ache that left me trembling, desperate for more, for all of him. I wanted to memorize the weight of his hands, the brush of his lips, the scent of him, as though committing every fragment to memory.

The wind fell quiet, and the curtains stilled, drawing a delicate veil over the intensity of our stolen moment. I pulled back just enough to breathe, my chest rising and falling against his, and drank in the sight of him. The look he wore was hungry, fierce, yet restrained. The type of look that would haunt my thoughts, the kind I would eagerly explore behind the closed doors of my chambers.

"Now you know," I finally whispered, my voice trembling and nearly breathless. There was no denying it anymore. What I felt for Zander went far beyond friendship. I wanted him. Every day, every hour, every fleeting moment.

I wanted to explore every inch of him, not just his body, but the essence of who he was. To learn every curve, every nuance, every joy and sorrow he carried quietly within him. I wanted to lie on the soft grass of a sunlit field, my head resting on his lap as he read ancient scriptures to me, his voice wrapping around me even if I couldn’t understand a single word. I wanted him to show me all of himself, to make up for the months of distance and longing, to share in the kind of vulnerable moments that only left our hearts exposed and intertwined.

I wanted to trace the line of his jaw with my fingers, memorizing it as I had memorized every glance, every smile, every quiet moment where our worlds had almost collided. I wanted to press my lips to his again, to feel him respond, to let the heat between us grow and swell until the air around us felt charged, alive. I wanted to sink into him, not just in body, but in heart, in mind, in the very pulse of who we were when we were together.

I wanted him close. I wanted him entirely. And I knew that whatever world we had to steal away for ourselves, it would never be enough. But I would spend every stolen second chasing him, feeling him, learning him, and letting him feel me.