A Storm of Flames and Deceit

XVI. Pull Me In

Nephele

I have a stupid smile on my face, and I know it.
I've never had a friend before, and maybe it's too early to say, but I actually think Cressida likes me. I know I like her.
She's amazing. Her body is so liberated. She's so smart and poised, but she's not afraid to get dirty and do very non-princessly things. Whether it be jumping off cliffs or stopping by my room in the morning to fulfill her promise to braid my hair.
It takes forever for her to unravel my too neat twists that mother's ladies had done, and it takes her even longer to braid them into cornrows. But I don't quite notice how long it takes. We're too busy talking and laughing.
Her fingers must be magic. They move so quickly, weaving silver charms into the braids.
"So Eris was in quite the hurry to get you alone yesterday?" She smirks, leading me into a conversation that I'm not sure I want to have. As it is, I could hardly look at him during dinner last night. I had all but laid myself out on a platter, and he still didn't take me. I know it's only been a week since we met, but I thought surely desire would overtake him by now. I felt his erection, but I also felt his denial.
"Actually," I say because I need a second opinion. "Can I tell you something true?"
She nods cautiously at my wording. I'm probably being naive, but all of me wants to tell her everything about myself- which I'm probably not supposed to do. I have a good feeling about her. "We actually haven't..." I trail off, suddenly shy. "I'm a virgin. I'm still a virgin." That's all I give away because that's crazy right? My future husband hasn't taken his chance with me yet? It's odd.
She tilts her head in confusion. "You guys haven't...?"
I shake my head.
"But you told me you guys kissed right?"
"Yeah..." I feel sick. We actually haven't. Who was I to think he wanted me?
"And he asked you to marry him, right?"
No, not technically. I manage a nod.
"He's not saving himself for marriage is he?" She asks. "You're not either?"
I shake my head. "No, it's not that- sorry to dump all this on you. If I'm being transparent, you're probably my only friend, and I met you yesterday."
She giggles, dropping her voice. "If I'm being honest, you're also one of my only friends," she whispers, still braiding my hair tightly. "You're exceptionally easy to talk to. Sometimes, I find it hard to smile, but you make me remember."
I smile accordingly, looking down at my feet. So I had made a friend? I don't feel happy that I did because it's what I came here to do. I feel happy because it feels true.
"And as for Eris," she continues, clearing her throat. "I know the look of desire on a man's face. I'm a princess for fuck's sake. I'm used to it."
"I imagine," I smirk, looking her up and down. She really is beautiful, but I might rather be her friend.
"I've known Eris quite a while, actually. Only from a distance, of course, but I've seen him in meetings all my life. I've never seen that sort of desire on his face, something so protective," she explains, shaking her head as she weave an amethyst into my hair. "I also don't believe I've ever seen him look like he actually likes someone before you."
"I don't know," I mumble. "I practically throw my body at him, and he does nothing."
"Has he said anything about it?" She asks, leading a framing braid to hang in front of my pointed ear.
I consider. "He said that I wasn't ready," I tell her.
"Well that makes more sense," she chuckles in relief. "He must really care about you. He doesn't want to scare you off."
I scoff. "He couldn't scare me off." For one, I'm already his property legally. I hate that knowing that kind of turns me on. I hate that legally he can do whatever he wants to me because the idea makes my thighs throb.
He couldn't scare me off. I don't want to leave.
"Maybe he has a hard time believing that," she shrugs. "I'm not sure. I just think his restraint might suggest that he cares for you deeply, not the opposite."
I chuckle. I know that's not true. Why would he care about me deeply? We've only met just a week ago, and Eris doesn't strike me as the type to care for someone at all, much less a near stranger. That's not what hurts me.
"I guess..." I shake my head. I'm being ridiculous. None of this should matter to me. "I guess I just thought he wasn't attracted to me."
She laughs at me outright, like I'm utterly ridiculous. "You're funny," she snorts. "As if I can't smell how much he wants you every time you walk into a room."
I shudder. Could she? I couldn't smell it. Eris just always smelled like that to me. Maybe I'm crazy. I didn't think that scent of an autumn breeze and a smoldering bonfire was his arousal. Maybe she was talking about another scent.
Or maybe she just wants to make me feel better.
She braids off the last strand, pulling me to stand in front of the mirror. My jaw falls open.
"Who taught you this?" I beg, enamored but my own reflection, the line of my jaw so visible, the sweep of my ears.
She shrugs sadly. "I'm self taught," she says quietly. "My mother passed when I was young, so I always watched my housemaidens growing up before they told me it wasn't my duty to know that sort of thing and pushed me from the room. I kind of just... practiced on myself from then on, trying to copy the hairstyles that caught my eye when I was out," she smiles bitterly, shaking her head. "And when Amarantha locked us up, I had some extra time to practice. One day my hair caught her notice, and the idea of forcing a princess to do her hair amused her. So I did her hair for upwards of fifteen years."
I shiver because I can tell what her wince means. Amarantha hit her. I knew about Amarantha well enough. Before I was locked up, I met her a few times. She was cruel to servants, so I braved up my tiny body and told her to stop it.
It's predictable what happened next. She hit me for her amusement. Mother and Father hit me in the name of discipline. Then, I had to watch Amarantha hit her servants more out of spite. I never spoke against her again.
"Come," Cressida smiles evasively, taking my hand. "Tarquin insisted on taking you, me, and your betrothed boating this afternoon. I have another swimsuit I could loan you."
I smile, letting her drag me into her closet, wondering how many people know what happened to Cressida under the mountain.
...
Cress and I decided on a lilac bikini today for myself, her in canary yellow. Today's bikini was a bit more modest, though only underdone by how strappy it was, this strands of fabric wrapping around my waist, tying in the back.
She also loans me a plum colored sarong to tie around my waist while Tarquin sails, her in a white sarong. Eris barely makes it to the dock in time, apologizing for tardiness, but not making an excuse. His nonchalance unsettles me.
It unsettled me because how can he just show up here in burnt orange swim trunks and no shirt and look entirely casual about it. Mother above, he looks like he was sculpted in clay, his upper thighs making me dizzy beyond words, the V of his narrow waist. He wasn't broad like Tarquin. Like most of the men I've met. No, he was narrow and lean, his build almost academic. The only muscles he had looked like the muscles you get from using them, not from training them.
"You breathing okay?" Cressida whispers in my ear, a taunt. I laugh, swatting at her, letting her and Tarquin lead me onto the sail boat.
"So how long have you been sailing, Tarquin?" I ask him, refusing to look at Eris where I think he settles somewhere on the side of the ship.
Tarquin smiles. I should be thinking about him, his muscles carved by the riptide, his dark skin rippling and swollen with strength. But all I think about is Eris, the slight of freckled chest and shoulders, his long, stretched out muscles.
"Since I was a boy," he replies in his handsome island accent. And still, all think about is the red head standing behind me in those short ass trunks with his beautiful thighs.
Nope, I'm not going to drool over him.
I return my attention to Tarquin. "When I was growing up, I had actually wanted to be a sea merchant before I learned what my blood meant," he continues, gazing upon the water.
"I get it," I smile, looking out at the horizon. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be a king."
Tarquin snorts, raising a brow. "A king?"
I nod, shrugging. "I wanted to be in charge. I wanted to be in control," I chuckle. "Now I'm just happy enough that I'm finally in control of my own life." To an extent, that is.
Tarquin smiles at me. "If it's any consolation, being king isn't all it's cracked up to be," he teases. I chuckle.
"I'm beginning to figure that out," I tell him. Cress wraps an arm around me.
"But just think how good you'd look in a crown?" She smiles.
"I suppose tiaras are close enough to being a crown," I grin at her, tugging her braid gently. "Tell me, is being a princess all it's cracked up to be?" I should be curious. In two weeks, I'll be one.
She laughs, leading me to the head of the ship. "What do you think?" She raises a brow.
"I think the dresses and jewels are a lot nicer than the company half the time," I reply.
"And I think you're spot on," she smiles at the horizon. "But every once in a while you get lucky and meet someone not entirely insufferable, swollen with their own political agenda."
Guilt swims through me suddenly. I don't like Cressida for any agenda, but that's why I made such an effort towards her. I only met her yesterday. I shouldn't feel so horrible about all the lies between us. How I deceive her about Eris and I. What did it matter what was real and what was fake? It's not like I'm capable of speaking the truth.
I just wish I could.
Walking away, I fully intend not to even glance at Eris, sitting on the lip of the boat, the sea spraying his back. But he reaches for my wrist, pulling me into his lap so quickly I nearly gasp.
I glance at him, but his gaze is so simmering that I have to look away. "I like your hair," he whispers, but I refuse to meet his amber eyes. His finger curls under my chin softly, making me meet his hard eyes. "What's wrong?"
Was it that obvious that I was bothered? I hadn't meant to be outwardly pouting. I don't think I had been. "I just..." I hesitate, locking my eyes onto his, glancing over my shoulder. I drop my voice. "I don't like being dishonest with them. They're good people. I want Cressida to know who I am, not who I'm pretending to be."
He groans, rolling his eyes. "That's what has you in a slouch? You don't want your friendship to feel manufactured and artificial?"
I set my jaw, looking away.
"I got news for you, sweetheart. People like us don't get to form real friends. We don't get to be honest whenever we want," he chuckles dryly.
I look him in the eyes. "We could be friends, you know?" I whisper. "That might make it easier for the both of us."
He smirks, looking me up and down. "Could we?" He asks quietly. "I somehow doubt that it would make things any easier."
"That's because that's all you know how to do is doubt," I tell him, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. Maybe it's for show. Maybe it's for me.
"And all you know how to do is fantasize," he answers, his jaw stiff as he slips his hand onto my thigh. "Just because the world isn't as dark out here as it was in that cellar, doesn't mean it's any less cruel."
I chuckle. He's so damn transparent. "I know you want to say harsh things like that because you want the conversation to be over," I roll my eyes. "But I'm not so easily pushed."
"I didn't think you would be," he replies at a whisper, smirking a bit. I notice the sailboat has stopped moving, Tarquin has lowered the anchor. He wraps his arms tightly around me for a dizzying second, ripping my sarong off, tossing it aside. My eyes go wide, my pulse hammering. "But you're just as easily pulled," he says, letting his body fall of the side of the boat, taking me with him.