I continue to gaze at him, fishing around for some kind of sarcastic reply, but the ones I come up with die right on my lips. What he said is remarkably true. They are shal ow, and vain, and extremely narcissistic—and his ability to realize that truth reveals an amazing amount of self-awareness and insight I never would’ve expected.
“So how long are you planning to stand there like that?” he asks, voice bored, thumbs tapping against the horn of the saddle.
“Why didn’t you bring a carriage?” I ask, stil not wil ing to ride tandem with him, though clearly my options are limited.
Watching as he heaves a deep sigh and springs from his mount until he’s standing before me, a smattering of inches the only thing that separates us.
“Because a carriage attracts far too much notice at this hour,” he says. “Remember, this is supposed to be a secret. Which means I didn’t think you’d want to let your parents in on the fact that you’re eloping—even if it is with the local royalty. But I’m afraid if you insist on continuing to dicker like this, wel , there wil be no need for secrecy as the whole damn vil age wil soon be in on your tryst. So come on, Adelina, what do you say? You stil planning to push against me, or are you ready to submit to the path of least resistance? Be a good girl and hop up—Alrik is waiting.”
I swal ow hard, swal ow my pride, and nod my consent. Bracing against the feel of his hands at my waist as he lifts me up high and gets me al settled, before he hops up himself and warns me to hold on tight or risk tumbling off. Something which he seems to enjoy a little too much—something I do my best not to think about.
We ride for miles. Ride for so long that at one point I al ow sleep to claim me. Awakened by the sound of Rhys’s voice at my ear, soft and surprisingly tender when he says, “Hey, Adelina. You can wake up now. We’re here.”
I rouse myself from his shoulder, brush my hand over my eyes, my hair, and take in my surroundings, try to get a feel for our location, but it’s not one I recognize.
“It’s a hunting lodge,” he says, lips tickling at the very edge of my ear. “It’s our hunting lodge, Alrik’s and mine. And while it’s nowhere near as grand as the palace, I wil say it’s not bad either. I think you’l find it surprisingly comfortable. I know that many, many, many of my conquests have greatly enjoyed themselves here.”
Yep, he’s back to being Rhys again.
“Where is Alrik?” I ask, yanking free of him.
But I’ve barely gotten the words out before a whispered voice says, “I am here.”
He reaches toward me, careful y catching me as I slide from the horse and into his outstretched arms. His body so warm, so comforting, that for a moment his awful brother is al but forgotten, until Alrik breaks away and says, “Brother, thank you. I owe you for this one.”
But Rhys just laughs, turns his horse around, and glances over his shoulder. “Forget it. Your bride for the kingdom—” He shakes his head. “Hate to say it, brother, but I’m afraid it is I who wil owe you once your little honeymoon is over and you realize your fol y. I just hope you’re not foolish enough to try to col ect once you’ve sul ied your bed. And while I wish you much happiness and joy and al that, I’m afraid I must return. My sweet little Sophie surely has my bed nicely heated by now.”
“Stil bedding the chambermaids?” Alrik cal s.
Only to have Rhys reply, “Dairymaid, brother, dairymaid. Try to keep up!”
His horse gal ops off, taking Rhys along with him, as Alrik pul s me toward the lodge, lips brushing my cheek as he says, “I apologize for him. I was hoping he’d spare you from that brand of crudeness, but perhaps that was just foolish on my part. Stil , al that real y matters is that he brought you to me. He did as I asked, and you’ve arrived safely.” He gazes down at me with a face fil ed with so much love and devotion, I swal ow everything I was about to tel him about just how crude his brother real y is, not wanting my words to mar his expression.
“Actual y, I slept through most of the journey, if for no other reason than to tune him out,” I say, finding a compromise that succeeds in making him laugh.
“Then you are not tired? You are not longing for bed?” His eyes glint on mine.
I gaze from him to the stil -darkened night sky, to the door he’s propped open that leads to a rustic yet sumptuous room just beyond.
“Oh, I’m feeling quite rested.” I smile. “But I have no objection to bed.”
seventeen
After an hour or two of giggling, cuddling, and whispering to each other—making grand plans for our new life together, a life that begins tomorrow afternoon, Alrik and I fal to sleep. He stil ful y clothed (minus his boots of course), me stripped of the dress I arrived in, stripped down to the same dressing gown his brother found me in.
Alrik’s arm is tossed around my waist, anchoring me tightly to him. Our bodies conforming, pressed so snugly together I can feel the beat of his heart at my back, the rustle of his breath at my ear. And I’m determined to sink into the feel of it, to push aside any stray worries, any lingering fears, in favor of this moment together. Eager for tomorrow, when our exchange of vows wil al ow us to love each other freely, openly—no longer relegated to vacant horse stal s, or secluded spots in the forest that surrounds my parents’ house. No longer forced to pul ourselves back just when the moment becomes truly heated.
It’s a change I look forward to.
But those are the kinds of thoughts my conscious mind is al too happy to dwel on, the moment I fal unconscious my guard slips and a long list of worries seeps in. Manifesting themselves in the strange language that only dreams speak, immersing me in a bleak and foreign landscape where Alrik is nowhere near and a dark hooded being chases me.
I race through brambles and bushes. I race for my life. Wincing against the sting of sharp thorns that snare at my skin and tear at my clothing—leaving me tattered, battered, bruised, but stil I race on.
Yet, no matter how fast I run, it’s not fast enough.
I can’t seem to escape it.
Can’t escape the dark hooded being that’s coming for me.
Bearing down on me.
Claiming me.
Ending me …
I bolt upright, a horrifying scream piercing my sleep. Not realizing until Alrik bolts upright beside me and pul s me tightly to his chest that the sound came from me.
“Adelina! My darling, my sweet, are you okay? What has happened? Was someone here? Speak to me, please!” His hands cup my cheeks, making me face him as he stares into my wide, frightened eyes.
“I—” I blink rapidly, taking a moment to pul away, to gaze around the room, as I fight to get my bearings, to remind myself of where I am, who I am, but stil haunted by the horrible visions I saw, as though the dream has continued.
Alrik leaps from our bed, reaches for the torch and shines it on every corner of the room. Final y assured that no one else has joined us, he returns to my side and says, “My sweet Adelina, relax. It was only a dream.”
He murmurs a stream of sweet words in my ear—promises, declarations of love, a steadfast assurance that it doesn’t mean anything
—that I’m perfectly safe—that I wil not be harmed in any way.
But I know better.
Know there is no such thing as just a dream.
My dreams are not the kind other people have.
My dreams have an uncanny way of coming true.
Prophetic my mother cal s them. Warning me from a young age, when I first started having them, to never speak of them again—to do my best to block them out, lest anyone find out. It will wreck your life, she’d said. That sort of thing is deeply frowned upon.
But tonight, I’ve no choice but to tel Alrik, to warn him of the terrible thing yet to come. I’ve had this dream before, many times since I was a girl. Though this is the first time I’ve come to realize what it means.
That the time has now come.
From the warm, safe shelter of his arms, I al ow my eyes to sadly roam his face, my voice lo
w, nearly a whisper, as I say, “We wil never be married.” I look at him, making sure he understands that my softened tone should not belie the intensity of my words. “I won’t make it to the ceremony.”
Alrik balks, shakes his head, searches for a way to comfort me. “That’s preposterous!” he says. “It was merely a nightmare, nothing more. It means nothing, absolutely nothing—or at least nothing more than a perfectly normal display of pre-marriage jitters. Our lives are about to change in a very big way—we are about to embark on the life of our dreams. And while I know you’re excited, I suspect you’re also a tiny bit frightened as wel , and this is how that sort of fear often chooses to manifest itself. But my darling, my sweet Adelina, please know that you have nothing to worry about. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear? You wil always be safe with me.”
I nod. Swal ow hard. Wanting more than anything to believe him, for his words to be true.
But deep down inside I know different.
He’s wrong.
Dead wrong.
He didn’t see what I saw.
Doesn’t know what I know.
Didn’t feel the cold hand of death as it grabbed hold of my flesh and refused to let go.
“Kiss me,” I say, seeing the way his face softens, falsely believing it’s over.
“Kiss me and make me forget. Make it go away,” I urge, knowing this is it, my one and only chance to experience our love in its absolute, truest, deepest form. If I can’t convince him now, wel , then it’s a love I’l never know.
“Kiss me as though we have already taken our vows. Kiss me as though I am already your bride.”
I loosen the ties of my gown, al owing it to fal away from my body as my gaze holds on his. Aware of his quick intake of breath, his tightening jaw, his widening eyes. Gazing upon me in wonder. Gazing upon me as though he’s never seen anything like it before.
But I know differently. Having heard most of the stories, I’m wel aware that I’m hardly his first. Though not quite a rake like his brother, he’s known to have enjoyed his share of wil ing partners.
But the thought doesn’t bother me. If anything, I find it reassuring. Out of al the girls that he’s been with, out of al the girls he could stil be with, he chooses to be with me, and only me, for as long as our hearts shal continue to beat.
No matter what happens to me, no matter what the future may bring, I’ve no doubt that in Alrik’s own heart I wil always remain his true intended queen.
“Adelina, are you sure?” he asks, his breath coming faster as my fingers creep toward his shirt with the sole intention of ridding him of it.
He’s trying to provide a way out, to spare me from doing something he fears I’l regret. An attempt to do the right thing, to be noble, gal ant, but the words bear no meaning, he’s as eager as I am.
I press my finger to his mouth, only to remove it a second later and replace it with my lips. “You were married to me the day I pushed you into the pond, and I was married to you the day you sent me flowers in response. Red tulips. Who would’ve thought?” I smile, pausing long enough for my lips to explore his earlobes, his neck, as my hands roam the glorious expanse of his newly bared chest.
His handsome face hovers before me, as he pushes me back onto the pil ows, back onto our bed, his lips moving over me, kissing every inch of bared skin, kissing me in places I never would’ve imagined. Fingers moving quickly, deftly, removing the sparse layer of clothing standing between us, the task final y completed, he says, “Adelina?”
I nod, having never felt more certain.
Then a kiss.
A sigh.
And there is no going back.
I have done this.
We are doing this.
Our bodies moving together—melded, fused, connected as one.
And it’s every bit as glorious as I dreamed it would be, if not more.
eighteen
“My darling,” Alrik whispers, turning onto his side and peering at me, his sight aided by the stream of light sneaking in through the windows and creeping up from under the door. “Did you sleep?”
I murmur something inconsequential, not wanting him to know that I didn’t. That I couldn’t risk ruining my perfect night, the love that we made, with yet another dream that heralds the grim reality of what I’l now face.
“How do you feel? Any regrets?” He shoots me a worried look.
“Regrets?” I shake my head and grin, pressing my lips to his forehead, the place between his brows. Capturing a stray lock of hair in my fingers and smoothing it away from his face to better see him. “What could there possibly be to regret? Are you referring to the second time? Or maybe the third?”
He smiles, maneuvers his body until it’s covering mine once again. “I was thinking more like the fourth?”
“Fourth?” I squint, as though trying to recal . “I don’t seem to remember a fourth? Is it possible I was sleeping?” I bat my eyes flirtatiously, aware of his hands already at work, already warming me, as I lift my arms to his neck and bring him back to me, voice softly teasing when I say, “Perhaps you should refresh my memory…”
* * *
When it’s over, he shows me where to wash and dress, shows me the wardrobe stuffed with new gowns he brought just for me. Tel ing me to choose whichever one I want for today’s secret ceremony—that they’re al beautiful, al elaborate, al appropriate enough for the woman who wil one day be his queen, then he leaves, mounts his horse, and gal ops away. Promising to send a maid to help me dress, something he’d failed to think of before—promising to return just as soon as al the other last-minute arrangements are taken care of. I take my time washing, marveling at how everything can look the same on the outside, while inside everything’s changed in an irreversible way. No mater what happens from here, at least I now know what it’s like to be loved so ful y, so thoroughly, so utterly and completely, it’s as though the strength of our love has also strengthened me. And that, along with the warm assurance of a freshly drawn bath and a bright and sunny new day, leave me feeling a bit sil y for giving so much credence to last night’s dream.
Alrik was right. I put far too much importance on what was probably nothing more than a few deeply harbored worries coming to life in my dreams.
Stil , I don’t regret my decision to lie with Alrik, not for a minute. If anything, I look forward to reliving the experience as his wife, wondering if it wil feel any different.
I prolong my bath, wait for the maid to arrive, but when I’ve washed al I can, when my fingers and toes grow al wrinkled and prune-like, I decide to dry myself and make liberal use of the variety of creams and powders Alrik’s left for my use. Then I slip back into my dressing gown and attempt to pick out something to wear for the ceremony, hoping the maid wil show soon to help me dress. What with al the layers and ties and things that are meant to cinch impossibly tight, it’s impossible to clothe oneself without some assistance.
And I’m just working on my hair, ridding it of snarls and tangles while wondering how I should wear it—knowing Alrik likes to see it left long and loose, flowing in soft golden waves that fal around my shoulders and tumble to my waist, but knowing that as far as the marriage is concerned, it would probably be far more appropriate to wear it braided or pinned in some complicated manner—when I hear a knock at the door and quickly move to answer it, hoping it’s the maid and that she’s good with hair too.
Barely having a chance to move past the dressing table when I see she’s let herself in. And, far from the lady’s maid I was expecting, I find my cousin Esme instead.
“Wel , wel …” Her bril iant green eyes burn upon mine. Taking me in with a gaze so searing, so hate fil ed and angry, it takes a moment for me to gather myself, get my bearings. “It seems the rumor is true. Just look at you standing there, barely clothed.” She clucks her tongue in disgust. “You real y are planning to elope with him, aren’t you?”
“Who told you?” I demand, seeing no reas
on to deny it. She knows what she knows. Sees what she sees. The story is clear.
“Does it matter?” She arches her brow and roams around the room, surveying the place and everything in it as though she has some sort of personal claim to it. Taking a moment to appraise a picture, straighten its frame, before fixing herself at the edge of the rumpled, unmade bed where her eyes continue to blaze as her smal pink mouth pul s into a tight angry frown.
“It matters,” I say. “In fact, I expect it wil matter very much to Alrik. I’m sure he’d like nothing more than to know the name of the one who betrayed him.”
She continues to glare at the bed before casting her gaze my way, saying, “Wel , in that case, it was Fiona.” She lifts her shoulders, easily giving her sister, my cousin, away. “You know she’s had her eye on Master Rhys for some time now, and so she made sure to befriend his latest domestic conquest. Some daft little dairymaid from what I hear. It was quite crafty of Fiona, I must say, and she did manage to learn al she could.” She quirks her mouth to the side, as though she finds it al terribly amusing, but not something she prefers to dwel on for long. “Anyway, as it turns out, our dear Rhys likes to talk in his … sleep … so to speak, or at least according to his latest bedmate. And so, Fiona, being the good sister she is, couldn’t wait to fil me in on your very happy news. Of course I didn’t believe her at first. You’l have to forgive me, Adelina, but the thought of you and Alrik together is simply ludicrous, now, isn’t it?”
She looks at me, her eyes flashing as though she ful y expects me to nod my agreement, and when I don’t, when I just continue to stand before her with my mouth grim, eyes narrowed, and arms folded before me, she sighs and says, “But the way she insisted, wel , I decided to come see for myself. But al I see here is one very mussed bed and one very sad, very pathetic, incredibly naive girl who seems to have fal en for the oldest trick in the book.” She shakes her head and tsks, her tongue repeatedly tapping the roof of her mouth. “Real y, Adelina, just how pathetic are you? Gladly forfeiting your virtue with the false promise of a ring on your finger. A ring that, I’ve no doubt, Alrik never intended to give you.” She slants her eyes and looks me over. “Not a very smart move, cousin. Not smart at al .