The Fallen Prince

38

Ciaran's POV:

I had no clue how horrible Vayl was to the villages until I stayed in them during our journey to the kingdom. Obviously I knew how bad it was on the inside, where I was a slave, but outside... gods, they had no right to treat these villages like their personal shopping centres and the people as pawns as peasants who they can control.

When my parents led, we did not connect with the villages. There were times that people in Vayl left to visit the villages, if they were born there and had family there, and sometimes there was trading done, but for the most part everything in Vayl stayed local and we did not speak with others. That was a definite part of our downfall; we did not have allies and no kingdom knew we were defeated until I told Rowan.

I am sure some of the villages knew, because people ran away and I believe some managed to escape and get to their villages where they grew up. Gods, I hope they made it.

"Ciaran, go to sleep," Rowan mumbles, and I look down to where he is curled up on the straw mat of the hut we are borrowing for the night. "I can hear you pacing."

I sigh and sit down, and Rowan lays his head in my lap. "Sorry," I say, petting his hair and untangling some of the knots. "I am so nervous."

"I know," Rowan murmurs, rubbing my calf gently to help relax me. "But it will all be over soon. We can do this... we are in this together, my love."

Those words bring down some of the knotting in my stomach, help me to relax and feel a bit less fear. In a full day from now, hopefully we will have won a battle and Rowan has been demanding we destroy my room and all of the horrible memories I have there and choose a new room where we can create new memories.

I think everyone knows exactly what kind of "memories" Rowan is looking to make.

In the midst of a war, he is still the mortal version of an incubus.

"I know," I respond, laying down beside him and pulling the blanket that we brought with us over our bodies.

It is a bit cold, so I make sure to get as close to Rowan as possible. He yelps when I run my hands down his sides and touch his stomach with my cold hands.

"Ciaran, your hands are cold!" he whines, and that just pushes me to move my hands all over his stomach.

If I do not get to sleep, neither does he.

"My darling, I love you, but I will not hesitate to cut off your hands," he says, turning over and pinning me beneath him, holding my hands above his head so I cannot freeze him with my hands. "Stop trying to make me into an icicle."

I pout, pursing my lips and silently begging for a kiss.

Of course, Rowan gets the hint and leans down to kiss me, slowly, passionately, showing me through our lips that he is with me every step of the way. Even though this is something he has told and shown me time and time again, with the upcoming battle that will most likely commence, it is nice to know and feel that my lover is with me the whole way.

"We will win," Rowan whispers, and while I feel as though he is jinxing our odds of winning, I choose to smile and believe him.

I trust this man with every once of my being; he will not let us lose and he will not let me down. I know that much, at the very least.

"Take a deep breath, think about something else," Rowan murmurs, pushing up my shirt and kissing my collar bones, then he begins to lick my nipples and suck on the sensitive skin of my chest. "Does this not distract you?"

"If you know it does, why must you ask?" I mumble, and I am thankful this room is dark, except for the bit of candlelight that is left in our close to burnt out candle. I would not be able to handle the teasing he would give me for blushing at his words.