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aila stepped beneath the pavilion to find her mother awaiting her on one of its alabaster benches. The pavilion was one of Amira’s favourite places in the palace. Laila’s too, in fact. For the princess had read many books here on the very bench her mother now occupied.

“You wanted to see me, Maman?”

Amira severed one of the gold roses from its bush and lifted it to her nose. “Yes, I wanted to see how your plans for the Day of Enlightenment were coming along. You are aware we have quite a lot resting on this event as I intend to use it to gather everyone to discuss the coup d’état and I want to ensure it goes impeccably.”

“Of course, Maman,” Laila chirruped sweetly. She had been anticipating this eventually. “Everything is going splendidly.”

“You have taken care of the parade float?”

“Yes.”

“And you have made everyone aware of their respective agendas for the night?”

Laila watched her mother’s fingers and how they made quick work of depriving the rose stem of its thorns. “Yes.”

“Well then, aurore.” Amira’s voice was soft but her smile was sharp as the thorns she had plucked. “It is certain to be an eventful evening.” She lifted the rose to her nose. “Let us also hope your intuition with Darius Calantis has not been misguided and he will be willing to do what needs to be done when the time arrives.”

The last thing Amira wanted was another case of family loyalties causing cold feet.

Laila swallowed, feeling a tight constriction in her chest as though she was being wound tight in a vice. “I believe he will, Maman. He seems to want the throne more than anything.”

“I’m sure.” Amira’s jaw tightened as she snapped off a petal of the rose, finding it imperfect, and let it flutter to the floor in disdain. “He seems to be quite taken with you, doesn’t he?”

“I—” Laila blinked in disbelief, uncertain of what she’d heard. “I beg your pardon?”

“No need to be coy about it, aurore.” Amira smiled that much wider. “As with Dominus that’s something we can use and at the very least his infatuation appears to… influence outcomes far better than with the former.”

“Maman.” Laila shifted uncomfortably, a blush unfurling on her cheeks like a ripened red bud.

“I mean he did allegedly defy the wishes of his father to save your life. I don’t much care for your chosen romantic entanglements and when given the choice I will always rely on a much firmer hand when it comes to negotiations… but a softer touch doesn’t go amiss, here and there. I trust you will make note of that.”

Laila nodded in acquiescence. “Of course, Maman.”

Amira allowed her just enough time to reach outside the pavilion before reeling her back.

“And Laila?”

Her shoulders solidified as she made a slow turn. “Yes?”

“Consider this your last chance to right your mistakes.”

“Yes, Maman.”

Laila staggered away on unsteady fawn legs, making it halfway through the wisteria-covered pergola before she had to stop. She collapsed rather pathetically against the frail shrubbery to drag air into her wanting lungs, her body trembling like a leaf in autumn wind.

She wasn’t sure when she found it safe to move again but soon her body began to right itself—the blur in her vision clearing and the nausea burning away from her stomach. She recovered the strength in her legs to continue on her way through the grounds.

She spent the rest of the morning in the palace vineyards among the nectar grapes, watching the field workers rummage vines for translucent pink berries to fill their baskets with. Grape season was in full swing this time of year and she wanted a decent selection of bottles for the upcoming festival. No bash would be complete in Soleterea without its famed sparkling nectar wine.

Laila plucked a berry from a vine and put it in her mouth, the skin bursting the moment her teeth touched it. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as she was soaked in that dreamy languor a nectar grape always provided its consumer. It was part of what made their wine so sought-after.

She tugged one of the branches to take a grape-cluster into her mouth and devoured more of them. Then she wiped the corner of her mouth daintily and heaved a satisfied sigh, walking through the fields of resplendent golden vines.

Whilst she walked she noticed the fragments of a prowling figure between the gaps of the gilt leaves and moved closer to investigate, parting her way through two vines to find Darius being escorted by two Lightshields.

Laila felt a burning urge to talk to him and decided she couldn’t wait until he was safely restored within the tower. So she created a diversion, sparking an orb of pure electrical power within her fingertips that grew in force and intensity until she tossed it.

It ignited with a crackle of writhing, spidery legs in the near distance.

“What was that?” called out one of the guards as the other pivoted to look in the same direction prompted by her partner.

Laila parted her way through the vines and seized Darius by the wrist, hauling him through the opening and resealing the plants. She placed a hand over his mouth as the Lightshields turned and, on seeing their charge escaped, sounded an alert.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand and transporting them to the other end of the vineyard with quicksilver speed. “It should take a while for them to find us here.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate it but—” Darius straightened out the sleeves and front of his tailcoat as he plucked a stray vine leaf and flicked it off the edge of his fingers. “—is there a reason for this abduction?”

“My mother has some misgivings about you still,” Laila explained, hands clasped behind her back. “I was hoping we might find a way to put her mind at ease?”

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “That’s it?”

“I’ve put a lot on the line, helping you, what with everything you’ve done.” She tapped her foot rather impatiently with a sigh. “I would just like some reassurance that I didn’t risk it all for nothing.”

“Well you needn’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess,” Darius quipped, “I’ll be sure to put any doubts you have to rest the night of the coup. My circle doesn’t extend far but it is loyal and I’ve spent enough time amassing it. I know where every piece of the board is due to be set right down to my chosen council.”

Laila nodded softly before biting her lip. “Do you ever think about what’s going to happen when this is all over? To your father? To… Dominus?”

The soft lambency in his expression dimmed. “It’s crossed my mind.”

“And you’re okay with it? You have absolutely no reservations about how this is bound to end for them?”

He said nothing for so long she didn’t think that he would answer.

“I’ve made my peace with their losses long ago, it has to be done.” He looked down at her, his eyes ablaze with diabolical interest. “But I suppose the real question is… have you made yours?”

“I…—” Her tongue turned to lead in her mouth, her words seeming hopelessly insufficient. “I’m just trying to understand what it is that went so wrong between you both that you would need Dominus dead.”

“It’s not about us, it’s not about hatred or bitterness… it’s just our ways. If I could count on Dominus to step down without a fight, perhaps my tactics would be different but I know that he will not and thus I must not.” He slipped his arm through her own as they walked. “You remember how we choose monarchs in our culture?”

“Yes, when a rex takes the throne you rule for as long as you see fit until you abdicate or are slain by your kin.”

“How many rexes do you think ever stepped down willingly?” His brow arched in irony. “I’ll give you a hint: not terribly many. Killing each other for a throne is something deeply embedded within our bloodline. It’s practically family tradition. I think both of us knew that about each other, deep down, regardless of me being a bastard. It’s why we were never closer, it’s harder… when you’re close.” His throat bobbled with a swallow as he choked down any rising regret with a smile. “Shame we don’t have any wine to offset such a dour conversation.”

She held up one finger and reached into one of the vines, producing for him a small pile of nectar grapes. “It’s not quite the same as when it’s vinted, but it’s the best I can offer right now.”

She picked up one grape, putting it to his lips.

He paused in bewilderment at such an intimate gesture before he opened his mouth and accepted the offering of fruit.

Laila ate one herself, indulging in its sweetness, before nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

“Though I suppose if we’re trading motivations it’s only right I ask the same of you,” Darius said, taking another grape from her palm. “You never did explain why you chose me.”

“I didn’t think you would take well to being told you were a substitute.”

Darius chuckled, eating a grape before he continued. “No, you are quite right. That would be a blow to my proverbial ego. Still, I suppose I’m used to it by now. And at the very least I can thank my brother’s abysmal decision-making for providing me with this opportunity.”

“Which is?”

“Being able to stand here with you under the sun.” He halted their walk to face her and traced his fingers down the incline of her high-boned cheek. “Not having to feel any reservations about doing this.”

Her breath suspended as he took a loose curl and slid it through his fingers, all the while looking at her with that glacial blue stare that froze her ligaments right to the spot.

She shouldn’t be letting him do this. Regardless of their aligned status he was still a monster, after all, like all the rest. But curiosity overrode and she found herself wanting to indulge in what she’d been forbidding herself from.

“Or this.” He slid his finger down her cheek so slowly, merely luxuriating in the silken texture of her skin. He curled his finger beneath her chin and tilted her up to face him. His breath was tantalisingly warm against her lips as he exhaled and she could still smell the mint tea he had consumed for breakfast.

Laila swallowed thickly as she looked at him, remembering the phantom of her mother’s words. The lingering confrontation with Dominus and all the ways he had hurt her in it. And she knew that this would hurt him. More than any physical injury she could inflict.

“Or this.” He leaned in too cautiously for either of them, but he’d been waiting so long for this and he wasn’t about to rush it now. So he let their lips ghost above each other tantalisingly close before sealing them with a kiss.

Laila’s eyes fluttered to a close as she leaned in with a feather-soft sigh. The kiss was a simple meeting of the lips, there were no roving hands or eager tongues, and yet she felt it, oh how she felt it, all the way down to her toes. There was a stirring in the pit of her stomach like she’d plummeted off the edge of a very long height and was about to meet the sweet relief of landing. She lifted her hands to his chest, winding her fingers into his shirt to hold him closer.

That was all the provocation he needed to grow emboldened—one hand in her hair whilst the other slid low on her hip to press his body to hers until not even a scrap of sunlight could seep between them.

He coaxed her mouth open to deepen the kiss, his mouth sliding along hers at a languid pace. He took his time, the kiss slow and attentive, unable to bear pulling away from her when he eventually parted for breath. His lips were back on hers just as soon as he’d inhaled, dragging a small sound from Laila as she melted into the embrace.

However, it was here she realised where she was, who she was, and the threat of impending discovery forced her to part them with a whimper. “Wait.”

“Too much?” he murmured against her lips, sliding his hand through her hair.

She took a moment to catch her breath, resting her nose against his. “Far too much.”

“I had to do it at least once.” He nuzzled her gently before he pulled away. He refused to regret it, no matter how her thoughts may evolve on this moment in the future. He withdrew with reluctance to look down at her face, to capture the sight of her cheeks still flushed red from him before he stepped away.

She snatched his arm before she could stop herself. “Come to my boudoir tonight.”

He glanced at her with enigmatic intent. “You’re sure?”

She slid her tongue over her tingling lips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to live with answering any other way. “Yes.”

He felt his chest lift with hope, lips parting to speak as he stepped forward to gather her back into his arms.

The moment was shredded by a sudden call in the distance— “Cressida! I believe I see him! Halt, occassi!”

He sighed heavily in annoyance, glancing towards the guards before back at her. “And how do you suggest I get out of the tower?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” she said, and with a coquettish smile launched in his direction, she walked away, leaving him to the mercy of the Lightshields.

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The night was marked by the vehement roar of a storm and a wretched wind that whistled through the towers of the château. Raindrops battered down the walls of the marble palace like beggars seeking entrance, only to be cruelly turned away.

Such an event would seem an omen to anyone but Laila who instead became energised by the tumult of the weather. She let open her balcony doors, allowing the charged breeze to inflate the silk gauze of her curtains and trail wispily along her back.

She had always loved storms. There was something about them that she always found so eminently sensual; the way the sky would excite itself into a violent collision of acoustics and light like it was building towards the margin of some powerful climax.

The air was sticky against her bare shoulders, causing her skin to shudder with a pleasurable chill. As the hours ticked by and the storm reached crescendo she started to wonder if Darius would not come. Part of her hoped that he wouldn’t. That she had managed to narrowly escape consequence for her spur of the moment request. Though she was curious too. To see if he would manage to escape the tower like she suspected.

She decided not to dwell on it as she sat down to loosen her hair from her floral garland, the corona of her curls a truer crown than any circlet. She moisturised it with her gardenia and coconut oil, scooping it into a pineapple bun. She barely managed to reach for her ribbon when she saw a figure invade her mirror in the distance and turned with a start.

The tenebrous silhouette of Darius appeared with a flash of lightning behind the billowing drapes that veiled her balcony. For a moment she just stared at him, waiting for her pulse to settle. He looked dishevelled, hair slickened from rain, his loosely buttoned blouse now drenched to reveal the musculature of his torso.

Laila bit her lip as she let down her hair and rose up from her vanity to approach him through the parting in the drapes, almost uncertain he was real. Who could blame her when he seemed designed to have wandered from the confines of one of her erotic novels?

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” His stare was intent, looking right through her frock.

She became aware of the flimsy garment of satin and lace that was her nightgown and folded her arms around her chest. She shouldn’t let him in. She should alert the guards with haste on his escape and have him escorted straight back to the tower. Or so her mind told her. What her body wanted was a different matter.

“Come in.”

Laila watched him stride into the bedroom, his buckskin breeches clenching the thickness of his thighs. She closed the glass doors behind him and turned to find he was closer than she anticipated, having her pinned up against the door with his body in moments.

Her breaths shallowed as he looked at her, her chest becoming unbearably crushed and tight beneath his weight. A cold moisture seeped through his shirt. As he loomed above her she couldn’t help but think of the last time Dominus had her trapped this close, how differently it sparked a frisson of energy through her body.

“How did you get out of the tower?” she asked, looking up at him through a gold canopy of lashes.

He moved to touch a spiral coil of her hair, tucking it behind her ear before tilting her chin up to face him. “I had to break my legs.”

Laila released a soft moan into his mouth the moment their lips met, her legs slackening with relief.

The kiss was slow at first; hesitant. Until Darius wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer, his hands sliding low on the small of her back. Then the kiss grew deeper, more fervent, as his hands hooked beneath the backs of her thighs to lift her up against the wall.

Their lips parted for a brief moment during the transition, though as he pulled away Laila hooked her fingers into his shirt to pull him back to her. He was getting harder as they kissed and Laila could feel the urgency of it pressed into her thigh—the movement of his hips against hers getting her inconceivably wet.

Reluctantly, she pulled back with a whine to catch her breath.

“Having second thoughts?” he exhaled raggedly against her mouth as he searched her face for uncertainty. Never let it be said passion made him predatory. He wanted her to want this as much as he did. To want him.

She responded by bringing him in for another kiss, long and indulgent. Her hands deftly unbuttoned his shirt to slide her hands along his skin. “The bed,” she murmured insistently against his lips.

He obliged, carrying her over to lay her on top of the mattress. She snaked her legs around him as they kissed again, and it was a marvel how they’d managed to keep from doing this with each other when it felt this good.

She flipped their positions, sitting upright on his lap as Darius slid his hands up her thighs to maintain contact. He hooked his hands beneath the hem of her nightgown and lifted it over her head, her ample breasts coming free with a bounce. Then he let his hands rest on her waist, moving them downwards to the swell of her hips.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said in a low rasp. His eyes blackened with lust, the veins beneath them swelled with calligraphy patterns.

Laila bit down her lip to hide her smile. “Do you intend to stare at me all night?”

His throat oscillated with a swallow. “Come here.”

He pulled her into another kiss and she felt a shudder go through her as he slipped off her undergarments and stroked along her thighs, so gently it was almost hallucinatory. One wouldn’t think it possible for hands like his, tools built for battles and bruising, to have such unbridled tenderness within them.

She shoved away his shirt, wanting to feel more of his skin against her as she kissed down his neck and along his collarbone. Her hands made quick work of his lower half, stripping him of his boots and breeches.

Laila slid his drawers down and swallowed, looking towards him for guidance. “I’m not sure what to do next—”

He was smirking at her now as his hand enveloped his shaft, stroking himself. There was something intensely erotic about seeing him do that. “What would you like to do with me?”

Laila received his request with a shiver, finding it hard to catch her breath at his stare. She pinned him down onto the mattress, positioning herself so that her clit was against the head of his cock. They released a moan into each other’s mouths as Laila anchored him down by her hips, rolling against him at a languorous pace.

The sensation was so warm and slick that Darius felt a chill go up his spine as she moved along the length of him even faster, even firmer, until he almost couldn’t take it.

She reached her peak long before him, her back arching to push her breasts into his face. He lavished them with kisses, tongue swirling over the nipple as her next release came in rapid succession.

Darius almost spent himself three times as she grinded on him. But he suspended it, wanting this to last a little longer before it was over. He put his hands on her hips, fingers digging hard enough to bruise as their movements grew more frantic until he finally let himself climax.

Laila released a shaky moan as she braced her hands on his chest. Her skin was roseate and the afterglow had left her with a radiance that was almost unearthly. She paused briefly to nudge her nose against his whilst sliding her fingers through his hair. It had grown wavier now it was no longer plastered down with pomade, coiling into loose, romantic locks.

She drifted her hand over his stomach, cleansing it with an enchantment, before she broke away slowly. Her breaths were heavy as she smirked at him. “I hope that was worth breaking your legs for.”

He matched her mirth with something even more bestial. “Not finished with you yet.”

He pulled her back to him.

She lost track of the hours they spent exploring each other’s bodies. They kept waking each other up at intermittent moments, indulging in their strive to bring the other to satiation every time. As with most things, Darius was meticulous as a lover and he traced every part of her with the same deep-abiding fascination as a cartographer with a map. With such a fine performance, little doubt remained as to why the princess ended up preferring him to his junior.

They lay spooned together in the aftermath, their legs entangled from when she’d taken him between her legs to massage his tip against her and he had rubbed himself off between her thighs—their moans muffled between kisses shared over her shoulder.

She fell asleep with his arms clutched around her, one breast still eclipsed by his large palm as he lazily brushed his thumb along her nipple. She trailed her fingers up his forearm, thinking it was exactly this that had been missing from her bed during all those sleepless nights. She was already halfway swooning into sleep when she felt the gentle graze of a claw along her spine.

“What are you doing?” she moaned sleepily, her back arching in reflex as his claw provoked a frisson of shivers down her spine.

His claw travelled in a rhythmic motion, his touch careful and restrained without even a hint of pricking. It was only when she had begun to lift herself from the dense heaviness of sleep that she realised he was tracing a pattern.

“I’m tracing a constellation,” Darius told her in response, as though the answer could not be more obvious.

Laila tilted her head ever so slightly over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of him drawing over the dynasty marque across her shoulder blades. A rose, in keeping with her family name.

“How is that you have this? Does your body just know or are they assigned?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “We all receive one based on our bloodline. It appears when we reach maturity.”

“That’s fascinating,” he said, with genuine awe in his voice.

She shivered as he pressed his lips between her shoulders before kissing down the arc of her spine. Such a thing might have enticed her to let him stay until morning but she knew better than to get swept away by this whirlwind lust. One night was all she’d allow herself and with the cold morning light on the horizon she knew this temporary insanity had reached its end.

“It’s almost dawn,” she said sleepily, a faint smile on her lips. “You should probably return to the tower.”

“I’m quite content where I am,” he grunted in a blended timbre of gravel and silk that slid with ease to the pit of her stomach. Then he kissed the corner where her neck met her shoulder.

She rolled over towards him until she had situated herself on top. “If my guard finds you here she’ll have you dragged out in your skivvies.”

“Let her.” His lips curled in mirth as he pulled her into a kiss. “I bet I’d put on one mighty of a show.”

“You’re silly,” Laila murmured softly into his mouth.

He smiled back, reaching to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. Rare was a time that he’d felt this—a deep inner peace of both mind and body. He found himself craving more. “I want to see you again.”

It was a request spoken without presumption or demand, he knew he’d no right to have either, but the desire was palpable all the same. And there was no language Laila knew better than desire—the mother tongue of wishes. As a star, she’d been nourished on them, all the hopes and prayers of the earthbound with their lips aimed toward heaven. She was the physical incarnation of every I wish woven into one being.

Laila looked at him and saw his eyes were still heavy-lidded, shaded soft beneath boyishly long lashes. It was difficult to deny him when he looked so tempting like that, but she maintained her resolve. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“I just think it’s best for us to keep this as a one night event. It’d only complicate things otherwise.”

“Complicate things?” he echoed in derision. “What do you mean?”

She slipped away from him to reach for her sheer peignoir, desperate for a barrier to wrap around her skin. “Darius, come on.” She perched herself on the edge of the mattress. “You didn’t really expect anything more to come of this, did you?”

The words landed like a blow, stunning him to silence. He suddenly couldn’t bear to look at her, let alone touch her. To think moments before he’d been on high, fuelled by the foolish giddiness of a schoolboy. What a lovelorn imbecile. He ought to have known it would mean more to him than it did to her.

“I see,” he said. He withdrew from the covers to reach for his clothes, dressing himself in silence.

Laila saw the hurt in his eyes before he could shield it. “Oh.” She spoke again, desperate to salvage her earlier words. “Darius, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, Laila. You’ve made your intentions towards me perfectly clear. Please allow me the grace of leaving with at least some dignity intact.”

She watched him walk towards the balcony doors with her robe clutched in her hand. “Darius—”

“Have a good morning, Laila.”

Then he continued on his pathway out of her bedroom and out of her life.