His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 8

Laying the cloak down on the fireside chair, Danaë felt her heartbeat thundering in her ears at the sight of the bed. Remembering what had happened there last night, feeling the phantom caresses of Cenric's hands, sent shivers across her skin.

"...at your leisure, my Lady."

Danaë turned, aware that she hadn't been listening. "I'm sorry?"

The maid picked up the cloak to hang it in the wardrobe. "His Majesty has requested your presence in the library."

Danaë felt a shock of fear shoot up her spine. Wondering what Cenric wanted with her, she turned, and she was almost at the door before she realized she had no idea where she was going.

Looking aside at the maid, Danaë asked, "What is your name?"

The maid answered, "Ebba, my Lady."

"Ebba, would you please show me the way to the library?"

"Of course, my Lady."

Danaë waited and followed the maid's quick, tidy steps, failing to absorb the geography of the castle halls they passed through.

Sooner than she could have predicted, they stood outside of an imposing set of wooden double doors, which the maid, Ebba, opened to reveal a large, book-lined room. At the far end of the room, a wide fireplace burned brightly, backlighting a worktable and the man seated at it.

Cenric...

He turned to see what the disturbance was.

"Ah, Baroness!" He smiled as he used her assumed title. "Come, I wish to hear of your visit to the temple." He indicated a chair opposite him.

Movements stiff with dislike and dread, Danaë walked toward it, murmuring her thanks as Ebba pulled it out for her.

"So, how did you find our little temple? I know it can't compare to the majesty of the imperial city, but we are rather proud of it."

Danaë watched as Ebba left the room, her pulse quickening. "It was very tranquil."

His eyes were sly as they met hers. "But not tranquil enough?"

Her brow furrowed with confusion. "My Lord?"

He smirked. "You came back. It must not have been tranquil enough for your tastes."

Danaë fought her blush. "I don't understand-"

"My dear, you really must stop lying – it doesn't suit you. I knew when you insisted on going to the city's temple that you were planning to leave – and yet you returned?"

Danaë looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I must admit, I'm curious as to why. Much as I'd like to believe that my prowess as a lover drew you back, I don't think that was your motivation."

Scowling, Danaë wanted to spit a scathing retort in his face, but her mouth went dry as she again saw flames scouring the temple.

Blankly, she asked, "Maxson is going to come for me?"

He paused, then answered her. "Almost certainly."

"And he'll stop at nothing to have me?"

"I would expect so."

Looking up to meet his eyes, she asked, "Then what would you expect him to do to the temple if they took me in and swore to protect me?"

His voice softened. "I think you already know what he would do, Princess."

Closing her eyes, Danaë heard the distant cheers as Maxson put her parents to the sword.

Her voice broke, "Everywhere I go, I leave death and destruction in my wake." 

"Danaë-"

Her face distorted into a mask of self-loathing. "I really didn't think beyond saving my own skin, did I?"

"Danaë."

She shook her head, her hands forming tight fists in her lap. "How many?" She looked up at him, tears streaking down her face. "How many are dead because of me?" An ugly chuckle escaped her, "You seem to know everything – how many have I already killed with my thoughtlessness?"

"Danaë, you didn't-"

"Don't lie to me, Cenric." Her voice took on a steely tone. "The Southern Kingdom; King Feliciano's domain – what happened once I left them?"

Cenric met her gaze. "Maxson razed their capitol to the ground."

Danaë's breath caught in her chest, and she began to shake.

"...there are rumors that Feliciano's son might have survived, but... no one else. Maxson wanted to send a message to anyone who might aid you."

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she lowered her head into her hands. King Feliciano - the kind, paternal man who had arranged for her escape out of the imperial city.

The man who would have been my father-in-law...

Dead now, because of her selfishness.

Danaë sucked in a breath only for hard, racking sobs to overtake her. She shook from the force of them as her grief washed over her, consuming her.

Everything – the coup, her family's deaths, the months of running and hiding, all of it seemed to weigh on her at once until she could feel herself cracking under the pressure.

She didn't see Cenric stand up, didn't hear him round the table, didn't feel him kneel down and take her in his arms. All she knew was she was being rocked against a broad chest as she shattered into a million pieces.

When Danaë finally came back to the world, she felt a hand softly stroking her hair. Slowly becoming aware that she was laying astride his lap, Danaë sniffled and tried to escape his grasp.

His hold tightened, and Danaë forced herself to relax against him.

"You didn't, you know."

She frowned, confused. "Didn't what?"

"You didn't kill anyone."

Screwing her eyes shut, she pressed her face into his chest.

"Every man is responsible for his own choices. Feliciano chose to help you, knowing what Maxson was capable of. So did I. So did every person who gave you aid. You can't take responsibility for their fates – you didn't control their choices."

"I should have done more... I should have known what I was doing – how could I have been so stupid!"

"Princess, forgive me for saying this, but your parents didn't prepare you for this. They didn't seem to prepare you for anything other than being a rare bird in a gilded cage – you weren't ready to be ripped out and thrown into the wild."

Danaë thought back to the times her interest in war and battle had been quashed with, "It doesn't concern you."

She couldn't say Cenric was wrong.

Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, he tilted her chin up to face him.

"You've been so strong for so long... You must be exhausted."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Danaë nodded.

"Why not let me be strong for you?"

Danaë stared at him, not understanding.

His thumb glided over her cheek. "Stay with me. I won't ask you to be strong, or a princess, or the Chosen, or anything but just mine."

Her lips parted, stunned.

Gripping her chin, Cenric's blazing eyes stared into hers.

"Just say, 'yes' and I'll be strong enough for the both of us."

Danaë trembled in his hold as fresh tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

"...yes."