Unforgettable Lover (13 page)

Gaetan nodded, but the hint of a smile crossed his face. “Traditions, like rules, were meant to be broken.”

Nicholai’s chest constricted, hope welling inside. “Until the past few hours, I hadn’t broken a rule since—” 

Gaetan raised a hand. “Maybe a little rule breaking is what you need.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Nicholai couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lip.

Gaetan returned to his work, the grinder scraping against the bowl once again. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“At the moment, she’s qithan to another male. I pray I’m not too late.” Nicholai bolted for the door, intent on getting his answer.

*****

Leonna walked past the other artists hard at work on their paintings. The sound of brushes swishing and chairs creaking made her smile. At this point, anything could make her smile now. She was free, as free as a bird. Embracing her new life, her heart swelled. A small niggle started in her chest, and she felt restless. What of Nicholai? He’d headed straight to the throne room to tell his parents the news of his brother.

As she arrived at her stand, Wren raced over to her and gripped her hands. “Leonna, good to see you again.”

She blinked and furrowed her brow. “Um, good to see you, too.”

He glanced around at the other artists and patrons that filled the large cavern. 

A warning bell rang in her mind. She tensed. “What’s going on?” 

He looked behind him, toward her canvas. “Your painting of Prince Nicholai…” He faced her and bit his lip. 

“What about it?” She peered around him. A sheet hung over her painting, obscuring the picture from view. A sour taste rose in the back of her throat.

He stepped aside. “I concealed the canvas so no one would see.”

She bolted toward her work and ripped off the covering. She stilled. Goosebumps rose along her arms. A large gash ran the length of the painting, from one corner to the other. The damage was irreparable.

“No. No. Who would do this?” She fisted her hands. Her body shook, as a rage built within her, one fueled by her love for Nicholai.

“I…I know who did this. I saw it happen,” Wren whispered.

She spoke through gritted teeth. “Who?”

He glanced around again, but no one paid any attention to them. “Prince Tiernan. I left and forgot to put my favorite brush in the cleaning solution. When I came back it was late, no one else was here, or so I thought. I saw him cut the painting. I hid in another stall until he left.”

 She was sure Tiernan did this with the dagger he intended to give to his father. Placing her hand on Wren’s shoulder, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

He relaxed and a nervous laugh rose from his chest. “Sure. I’m sorry I didn’t stop him.”

“You were smart to stay clear of Tiernan. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. He’s dead.”

“Dead? How?” Wren raised his eyebrows.

The smell of cloves and rain filtered into Leonna’s senses, calming her, warming her on the inside.
Nicholai
.

Nicholai stared hard at Wren. He looked ravaged, beaten from the inside out.

Wren tensed and turned in a slow circle. “Uh, Leonna, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” With that, he walked away at a clipped pace, getting lost among the other artists and patrons.

“Nicholai, what’s wrong?” Leonna ran her hand up his arm, and she touched the fresh scab that covered his injury. “You still haven’t taken care of this?” 

“It’s too late now. The gash is healing on its own. Guess I’ll get a pretty scar.” He moved a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His gaze roamed her face, a tender gleam in his eyes, his own private medication. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Me, too.” A slow smile curved at the corner of his mouth, and an overwhelming urge to kiss those delectable lips pulled her closer to him.

He wrapped his fingers in her hair, cradling her head in his hand. Ultra-sensitive to his touch, her body reacted to his ministrations, sending a rush of warmth between her legs. His pupils dilated, and his gaze focused on her lips. She licked them in invitation, daring him to kiss her. 

He complied. His warm, wet mouth pressed against hers, bruising her lips with the force of his passion. He pulled her to him, and his erection pressed against her abdomen, flaring her desire. She moaned, memories of their coupling on Betram night and the heady endorphins rushing through her body. She dug her nails into his biceps and, the realization hit her—this is what she really wanted—him. 

She threaded her fingers into his hair, the sensation teasing the raw nerves in her fingertips. His desire fueled hers, and she bit him on the lip. He growled, the sound possessive and demanding. She loved his reaction, all male, all for her.

He finally let her go so they could catch their breath. His chest heaved from his exertion, and she panted right along with him. He traced a finger from her forehead, pausing long enough to caress her cheek before cradling her chin. His eyes followed his movement, the look of devotion so intense, she felt cherished, loved by this strong, powerful male.

He continued his journey down her arm. When he reached her wrist, he stilled. His gaze shot to hers. His eyes shifted back and forth, and his brow furrowed. “Where’s your bracelet?” 

A warmth built in her chest and radiated into her smile. “I gave the dreaded jewelry back. I’m no longer qithan.”

He studied her, his eyes intense. A mischievous smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Would you like to be?” 

She inhaled. Now it was her turn to examine him. His smile, the glint in his eye, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d just asked her—

He wrapped his fingers around hers and brought them to his lips. “Well?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Whatever you’d like. I’d tell you I care not, but that would be a lie.” He brushed his mouth against the back of her hand, giving her a gentle kiss. When he spoke, his voice deepened. “Leonna, I…love you. Will you become
my
qithan?”

Her throat constricted, and she held her breath for several seconds. With a dry swallow, she spit the words out in a rush. “But I’m not one of the elite…I’m a merchant.” 

Amber flashed through his blue eyes, and he shook his head. “That’s a tradition, not a requirement, and it’s one tradition I intend to break.” 

She pulled on her neck chain and held the small seashell. Maman was right, the charm was good luck. A happiness she’d never known before warmed her soul. “Yes, Nicholai…I’ll become your qithan.” 

He kissed her again. She’d finally made a decision all on her own—the right one. 

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Grand Hall buzzed with activity as Stiyaha and Jixies alike prepared for the king’s birthday celebration. Baskets of apples, pears, and assorted berries lined the tables along the wall. A Jixie wearing an apron, stained brown from use, carried a basket full of sweetbreads. She placed them next to the whipped cream and pies. The smell of the baked goods filled the air. Nicholai’s stomach rumble. 

Leaning against a stack of chairs in the corner of the room, he watched in amazement and stayed out of the way. Leonna snuggled next to him. Her body rubbed against his, lighting a fire under his skin. He still wasn’t used to the warmth that spread in his chest when he looked at her. He’d cherish her for the rest of his life.

“I’ve never seen preparation such as this.” She glanced at the ceiling, where a couple of female Stiyahas stood on ladders, hanging ribbons from a center ring. The gentle arch of the material flared at the base and hooked into hoops at the corners of the room. 

He pulled her closer, enjoying her contact. Even with her here, he had difficulty swallowing. The lump in the back of his throat wouldn’t go down. His parents, the honored guests, would arrive soon. How would his father would react to seeing him here? He let out a sigh and forced himself not to dwell on something he had no control over.

The ladders came down and two warriors carried them out of the room.

“Nicholai?” Leonna’s scrunched forehead and wide eyes portrayed her worry. 

She knew something bothered him. 

“What is it? Tell me.”

“The king!” Audible gasps and frantic footsteps filled the air.

“Be quiet. Gather round, hurry!” someone shouted.

The packed chamber had a capacity of three hundred. There was easily twice the number jammed in the large space. Others crowded next to Nicholai and Leonna. All he could do was pull her even closer to make room.

A cheer erupted from the crowd closest to the entrance. “Hail, King Monroe!” 

Someone in the crowd started the birthday song. Voices raised in unison to sing.

Birthday come, birthday go

Nicholai joined in, his voice strained.

A year, a decade, a century passes

Despite the crowd of well-wishers gathered around him, he caught his father’s gaze. 

Birthday come, birthday go

The old male nodded, a gleam of acceptance in his eyes. 

May you return for another, not your last

The crowd erupted into cheers once again.

Nicholai’s muscles relaxed, tension draining from his limbs. His father wouldn’t hold his brother’s death against him. He wanted to shout his happiness from the top of his lungs. Leonna squeezed his hand. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head and kissed her hair. 

For those lucky enough to be selected via lottery to attend today’s celebration, the party that ensued was one that would be remembered and talked about for decades.

As his father and mother made their way through the crowd, Nicholai had second thoughts. Maybe his father hadn’t forgiven him.

“Nicholai. Stop fretting.” Leonna rubbed her hand down his arm, soothing him with her touch.

An encouraging smile graced her plump lips. He bent down, capturing them. Blood rushed through his veins, calming him and exciting him at the same time. He clasped her hands in his and kissed her fingers, all seven of them. 

She looked over his shoulder and raised her chin, wanting him to take notice. He turned just in time to see his father, breaking through the crowd.

Nicholai kept Leonna behind him in a protective gesture. He didn’t want her involved if his father intended to berate him in public.

“Nicholai?” His name sounded odd coming from his father’s lips, as if the old male were unsure who he was. With a distant gaze, he seemed to lose focus, but then he blinked and the brightness returned to his eyes. “Nicholai!”

“Well wishes to you on your one-thousandth birthday.” Nicholai gave a short bow in respect, but didn’t break eye contact.

His father didn’t speak, but the lines around his eyes softened. “My son.” He pulled Nicholai into a strong hug, pounding his back with his fists. 

Nicholai’s heart raced and his breath caught in his throat. “Father—?”

The elder male pulled away, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “Macion stopped by—why didn’t you tell me Tiernan attacked you?”

Nicholai blinked. “It matters no—”

The king raised his hand. “Don’t say it!” He pursed his lips. “It matters
a lot.
”

Nicholai shook his head. “Who started the fight doesn’t change the fact that I killed him.”

“Self-defense.” His father rubbed his eyes and huffed. When he opened them, an intensity Nicholai rarely saw radiated from their depths. “Your brother will go back to Lemuria, but he won’t receive a warrior’s rite. He doesn’t deserve one.”

Nicholai exhaled, but held his tongue. As king, his father had every right to prohibit the death ceremony, their most sacred ritual.

The old male wiped his face and peered at Nicholai. “Macion mentioned that you overcame your fear, you saved someone you care about.” 

Leonna moved to Nicholai’s side. “He saved me.” 

His mother raised an eyebrow. “And who is this young female?” 

In the intensity of the moment with his father, he’d forgotten about Leonna. His neck and ears heated at his thoughtlessness. He stood tall as a sense of pride filled him. “This is Leonna, my qithan. She’s a painter.”

His mother inhaled a quick breath and glanced between him and Leonna. “The old tradition—” She stopped and shook her head. “Well, as the future king, you have the right to do as you please. Just know, not everyone will accept your decision, but given enough time, even the stubborn ones will come around.” A smile broke out on her face, turning her cheeks pink. “Oh…I’m so happy for the two of you.” She clasped Leonna’s hands then pulled her into an embrace.

“Now, that’s a decision a king would make.” King Monroe clapped his hand on Nicholai’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.”

Nicholai smiled, thankful that he’d pleased his finicky father. “She painted a picture of me for you as your gift, but the portrait was ruined—”

Shhhh.
King Monroe held his finger to his lips. He leaned in and whispered loudly to Leonna. “Paint me a family portrait, when you have a young one. The picture shall be my gift to my grandchild.”

Leonna’s cheeks reddened, but she handled herself with aplomb. “Of course, I shall be delighted.”

“Where’s her qithan bracelet?” Queen Pia glanced at Nicholai.

He grimaced. “I haven’t had time to give one to her, yet.”

His father laughed. “There’ll be plenty of time to celebrate. It’s not every day that a future king is qithan.”

Nicholai stilled and stared at his father. To mention his future role was an indication that he’d truly forgiven him. “Thank you, Father.”

He pulled Leonna into his arms, smelling her sweet honey scent. She’d taught him to open up and trust in himself. She’d made him whole. He’d love her until the day he died. Lifting her chin, he gave her a tender kiss. Passion for her burned in his soul. A young? He couldn’t wait to get started.

Epilogue

Several years later…