Chapter 67: Sixty Seven
Valka
Just how many secrets am I keeping from Lucien? No. Wrong question. How many secrets have I been hoarding to myself?
Well, for one, I am Lyra, Margot’s two hundred year old daughter. Two, I’m the mate of the man all of Ebonheart currently hates. Three, well, I am Ilya. Sort of. Four, I have met Lucien before. Five, I’m pretty sure Lilith is fucking Cyrus, but I cannot prove it.
What do you know? I’ve been lying to Lucien for longer than I can even remember. Rather, for longer than I want to remember.
Even now, it is instinctual to keep the words to myself. Because telling him feels like I am giving him a part of me that is sacred. It’d mean I have to trust him. And I’ve come to realize that the reason why I am not much of a speaker or a sharer is because I do not know how to trust people.
"I--"
Lucien waits patiently.
I lick my lips. "Rafael was my commander. A general I looked up to. Someone I cared about. More importantly," my gaze finally meets his. "He was my mate. Is."
Lucien stiffens and I feel the frost on my skin.
Odd as it is, I’ve begun to read his moods, little by little. Whenever the temperature drops, it is a clear sign that Lucien’s temper has been breached.
"I didn’t tell you because--"
"Do not explain," he cuts in. "You owe me no tales of your past life. None. But if this is to be a barrier--"
"It will not be," I say, voice stronger than it’s been in days. "He betrayed me. I saved him, all of them, and they cast me out. I will go with you. And I will pay what I owe without fail."
Lucien’s expression shifts into one of quiet contemplation and I’d give anything to have a field trip in that mind of his.
In a smooth maneuver, he rolls out from under the table, stretching to his full height and his gaze lowers as he extends a hand to me.
My hand is small inside his, near golden in his pale ones as his fingers wrap around mine, pulling me off the floor. My knees, stiff from sitting too long fail me, and I stumble into him, hand braced against his chest.
Even through his clothes, I can feel each hard line of his torso. A heated memory flashes in the back of my mind of running my lips over his skin, how those muscles clenched each time my nails had scratched him there, the snapping of his wrists against the binds--
I draw back from him abruptly. "Sorry, I--"
Lucien tugs me forward, until our chests touch. My head cranes back, our eyes meeting. His hand finds my cheek with a handkerchief. And then, he brushes the crumbs from my cheek with a care. Like I am something fragile. Precious. Like he’s done this a thousand times before in another life. Once satisfied, he presses the cloth into my left hand.
"The next few days will be longer. You will be picked at and prodded. As rulers, we must marry for alliances and must bolster strength. My Council roils against my decision, and they will do what they can to see you falter. Fall. I am doing what I can to shield you."
"The guard detail?"
He nods. "And more. Your food taster died this morning."
I rear back. "Someone... someone tried to poison me?"
"Yes, and there will be more attempts in the future." His lips twitch slightly. "Such is the burden of the Crown." He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a box similar to the one Lilith had shown to me. Sure enough, when he opens it, it is a similar necklace, though, the pendant of this one gleams a red so dark, it almost looks black. "This is not a gift. It is a... precaution."
"Do you give all the women you bed precautions?"
He blinks. "Excuse me?"
I point at the necklace. "Have you given so many women this that you do not even recall giving one to Lilith?"
"If you’re asking if I gifted Lilith something, then yes. I did. It was the only way to get her out of my damned bedroom before I snapped her neck." His free hand drops to the curve of my waist. My chemise crinkles in his grasp as his fingers furl and unfurl, as if battling the desire to pull me flush against him. His lips brush the shell of my ear, voice dipping into a growl. "If you’re asking if I fucked her... well, Valka, you already know the answer."
No. He didn’t. I know it as deeply as I know my own name.
I shouldn’t feel so relieved by that.
Dragging his hand from my waist, he clasps the necklace around my neck. "This was my mother’s. The Blackstone Lilith had was a close replica, but this is the only one of it’s kind. It isn’t so much a pendant as it is a receptor." His fingers drift low, from the clasp to the curve of my neck. My heart pounds slowly as they trace the line down to the spot where the pendant lays cool between my breasts.
My chest swells with anticipation, but he only halts there. He picks it up, pushing slightly and I watch in wonder as it opens like a locket. Within, two steel wedges hold the tiniest vial I’ve ever seen.
"Is that blood?"
Lucien nods. "A few drops of mine. It holds healing properties. It is partly why I was drained daily in the dungeons of Silvermoor. If you are gravely wounded and I am absent, this may mend what otherwise would kill you. And so long as you wear it, I may always find you, even if you are far beyond the reach of my mark."
I reach up to feel the stone and his fingers brush mine on the pendant. Something small and fierce stirs in my chest. "Precaution," I say, cheeks warming.
He inclines his head in a tiny, graceful nod, but his eyes are trained on my mouth. "Good night, Valka," he says after a moment.
The words leave him formal, but the air hums between us. After he leaves and the guards find me, I remain where I am--hand pressed to my breast, the handkerchief still warm with his scent. I don’t mean to, but I lift it to my face and inhale.
It’s ridiculous and awful and wonderful, and the scent of him--man and winter and something so intoxicatingly Lucien, it fills me. My breath stalls. My heart knocks against my ribs like a prisoner.
And a treacherous thought comes to mind. I wonder if...if maybe I could... want this life for myself.