A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 15 - "You can't be serious about this?"

Alwyn

Only a few steps outside of the room, Alwyn had to stop and catch her breath. The dam which she'd held all her emotions behind crumbled and fear, anxiety, and worry crashed over her. She pressed her hand to the wall to steady herself.

She hadn't wanted Zavier to see that for three days she lived in a constant state of pain, wondering if any second he would stop breathing. It was a kind of torture Alwyn never thought she'd experience.

She didn't remember if she slept at all, all she remembered was never leaving his side. His dark skin had looked so pale. Whatever place he was trapped in his mind made him shudder and murmur uneasily. It was unimaginably terrible watching someone you loved go through pain and be completely helpless to stop it.

But he was alive and now she could finally admit to herself how terrified she'd been of losing him again.

She closed her eyes, taking in a slow breath.

Alwyn touched the edge of Zavier's jaw, feeling the rough stubble there. She didn't know if he didn't shave because he didn't want to or because he knew she liked the feel of it. Both reasons were highly likely.

In the light of the full moon overhead, Alwyn locked eyes with Zavier. They sat tucked together on the bow of the ship.

"Wyn," Zavier said, his voice low and husky like there was too much emotion trapped in his throat.

She smiled at the sound. Even the lullaby of the ocean didn't match her love for his voice.

"I have to tell you something," he said.

In his eyes, she saw a seriousness that contrasted the mischievous boy she knew so well. It caught her off guard and her heart jerked inside her chest.

"Wyn," Zavier started again. "I am in love with you."

His words stole her thoughts, her breath, her very heartbeat.

It took her a long moment to remember how to speak.

She grinned wickedly. "The King and Queen must be thrilled."

Chuckling softly, Zavier cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin as he leaned in.

"They have no idea of how you have captured me," he said.

He kissed her and Alwyn kissed him back, losing herself in him.

Locked in his embrace, she didn't think about their titles, their roles in life, or the consequences, she could only think about him.

Alwyn curled her fingers, digging her nails into her palm, trying to bury the memory. But it stayed clearly in her mind, more vivid than all others after all the times she'd taken it out and relived each detail.

A whisper in Alwyn's thoughts repeated the fact that Zavier wasn't betrothed. He was free. She headed down the corridor fighting the whisper. She couldn't listen to it. Couldn't give in to its eager voice. They weren't out of trouble yet and she wasn't going to let herself get carried away like last time. She couldn't.

She quickened her steps, she needed Cyrus. He was her ballast. Whenever she found herself caught up in a whirlwind, he was the eye of it. She hurried through Hawk's house. It was a stunning manor with dark wood paneling brightened by intricately designed candelabras and sconces created by his wife, Kiera.

A murmur of voices drew Alwyn towards the kitchen and she paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Kiera, Fynn, Joric, and Cyrus all stood on one side of the room, staring across the way. On a bench, nestled against the wall lay Wilder, passed out. His sword hung from his waist, his long-form barely fitting the bench.