❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
"Your - your Graces?" the attendant declared. "It's Lord Emmerson. He's come back from his hunt."
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ARCTON FORTRESS, RIMEBAY, VERTGATE.
EDWINA
"DAMN IT," I LET OUT a low sigh, glaring at the attendant, who quickly bowed his head, not letting me see his red face.
Very slowly, Tristan looked at me, hesitant. I was still reeling from the tsunami of sensations of being held in his arms, of feeling his touch on me. His mere touch set up drizzles of liquid heat shooting down my spine, flaring into explosive volcanoes at the points of contact. The storm god's eyes were very dark, very blue, and very unreadable as they stared into mine with a similar expression of utmost longing and pure yearning.
Holy lord, for a second there... I thought he would kiss me.
I was very conscious of the red flush heating up my cheeks, slowly creeping up from wherever his hands made contact with my shoulders. Quietly, I untangled my arms from around his marbled neck, reluctantly withdrawing myself. Tristan himself let out a frustrated sigh and slowly pulled back from me. The scent of cinnamon and musk retreated as I took a few steps back, separating myself from him.
"Tell Lord Emmerson that we are waiting for him," I croaked to the attendant, my voice hitched and breathless. The man scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him.
Tristan and I broke apart, taking steps backward in opposite directions when I realized I was breathing very heavily from the intense intimacy. My throat ran dry as I opened my lips to speak.
"I'll... see you around," he interjected first, his voice very strange.
"Alright," I answered quietly, turning away to face the doors as Tristan strolled away to the incoming mass of people waiting outside to enter the room. They must have heard the attendant's tales, no doubt.
I tried to smooth out my flustered self, cursing him under my breath. His voice kept on ringing in my ears again and again.
"The way you keep on hurting me, woman, it doesn't make you any different from the rest. You're just more of the same."
Tristan's words had cut into me like sharp knives, wounding me right where I was most vulnerable. I couldn't explain to myself why they hurt so much, why they seemed to strike me right in my heart. I just couldn't understand why I let myself be affected so by him.
Eric marched in, his face now returned to its always calm demeanor. He'd gotten a change of clothes, and a small smile quirked up as he saw me standing at the far end. More people fanned out behind him, a literal procession as everyone entered the hall again. Tristan, Eric and I stood up on the raised steps, waiting for the hall to fill up.
