The Last Princess [EDITED]

Chapter 32

I closed my eyes, kissing him back, letting my hands circle up his body, one to the back of his neck and one settling into his hair.

His own hands clasped my waist tighter, pulling me closer, until there was scarcely space between our bodies.

He tasted sweet, and equal, and gentle and yet strong. His eyelashes grazed mine and his nose rubbed against my own, but I didn't pay any attention.

We kissed until I was gasping for breath, and we broke away at the same time, my eyes fluttering open.

He gave me a crooked smile. "How was that?"

I responded by pulling him closer and kissing him again, harder.

When we pulled apart again, he was grinning even wider. I could see the real Aiden behind the disguise, his eyes sparkling.

"This is all new to me," I admitted, brushing a strand of his hair away from his forehead.

"Me too," Aiden said, shrugging, "But I liked it."

"I did too," I said, looking down.

"Good to know." Aiden chuckled, and I joined in.

It was all so strange — but it felt right. We felt right.

"Oh, Nalvia," I said, looking away.

"What?" Aiden asked, tilting my head up to meet his eyes.

"We're doing this before the attack — it's just odd," I said.

"Well, if this is the last thing I do, it'll be worth it," he said, squeezing my waist.

"It won't be the last thing you do. You're going to live, Aiden. I swear it on Nalvia."

"Bold words, Princess," he said, smiling.

I grinned back — then I felt it. The presence humming around us, in the ground, in my bones. Nalvia.

I stumbled back, my vision spotting with black.

"What's wrong?" Aiden asked. His voice was soft, as though he was speaking from far away.

"Nalvia."

I managed that one word before my vision turned completely black.

"Ivy." Rowan groaned. "Why are you doing this?"

He was lying on the ground...in the meadow where the seven Princesses had been later murdered. He looked bruised and battered, and blood was seeping out of his many wounds.

Ivy swept into my vision, hovering in the dim corner. A light shone in her eyes, seeing her husband vulnerable on the ground in front of her. I recognized that light.

Madness.

"Why, King Rowan? Why? You have the nerve to ask me this?"

Rowan shook his head, about to say something, but Ivy stepped into the light. I could see bruises on her too now, probably because of their recent fight. I was guessing my father hadn't gone down without a fight, even if it was with his wife.

"You gave me those eight daughters, Rowan! It was you! And you ask me why I'm doing this?"

Rowan's eyes squinted with confusion. "F-Forreston. Our son —"

Ivy cut him off, letting out an un-queenly snort. "He is not our son! He is mine! Mine and Branch's!"

Rowan's eyes shot wide open in shock. He jerked back, like she had hit him. "What are you saying?" He croaked.