Page 264
Story: A Fire in the Flesh
That wouldn’t make for a great first impression as Queen.
The Rot had stopped.
Lasania would be saved—well, at least for now. There was still Kolis and…whatever I might have done to the kingdom during my Ascension, but the Rot would not be its destruction.
I truly hadn’t failed.
I’d ended the Rot.
A small laugh bubbled out of me as my fingers curled into the sheet. Ash was currently out in the hall, speaking with Rhain, who had also swung by to check on us. Instead of threatening the god’s life like he’d done with Nektas, Ash had stepped out into the hall, likely to assure Rhain—and therefore everyone else—that I was not only okay but also knew exactly who I was.
Ash had only been gone a handful of seconds, not even a minute, and I missed him.
Which was silly.
But it was a good kind of silly.
Opening my eyes, I rolled onto my side and stared at the closed doors. I didn’t want to get out of bed again. Despite what Ash had said about us having time, I had a feeling I would have to face the reality of, well…everything that existed beyond those doors if I rose again—whether naked or clothed.
I wasn’t ready to stop being happily silly, with the knowledge that the Rot had been ended. Where I was just a wife, and my only problem was missing my husband. I could spend an eternity as that.
But I knew I couldn’t.
At least not now.
Once I got up and handled things, then I could have that eternity.
I would have it.
My gaze wandered to the small nightstand. There was a clear pitcher, and two glasses turned upside down. Reaching for the water, I stopped, instead focusing on the small wooden box.
Glancing at the door, my curiosity got the best of me, and I rose onto my elbow and picked up the container. It had small silver hinges and was surprisingly lightweight, almost as if there was nothing inside it. Sitting up, the thin fur blanket pooled at my waist as I traced the delicate lines carved into the lid, my finger following the etchings. The markings were the vine scrollwork I often saw on the tunics of those in the Shadowlands and the doors to the throne room.
Who’d made this box? Ash? Possibly his father? Nektas? Someone else? Whoever it was, the time it must have taken to craft such intricate lines made me think it was something one would use to store important items.
Knowing I was being a complete snoop, I cracked open the lid. My lips parted as I peered inside. The realm seemed to hold its breath for a moment. As did I. A slight tremor went through my hands as a mixture of disbelief and elation swept through me.
I didn’t know what I’d expected to find, but it wasn’t—in a hundred years—the answer to where all the hair ties had gone after Ash unbound my hair.
Now, I knew.
They were all in this box. I didn’t know why that delighted me so. Why it felt as important as learning the Rot had been stopped. But there was no suppressing the wide smile that spread across my face. For there to be so many stowed away—about a dozen of them—it had to mean that he had been keeping the ties since the very first time he gently unwound the braid in my hair.
Even when he was angry.
Actually, I knew why this moved me so.
A Primal of Death had been collecting my hair ties, treating them as if they were prized possessions—treasure.
It was such a small token, something most probably wouldn’t even think twice about. But these little hair ties had belonged to me, and Ash had sought to keep them close to him—to keep a part of me close to him.
A rush of tears hit my eyes as I quietly closed the lid and returned the box to where I’d found it. I lay back down, blinking the dampness from my lashes.
Those hair ties…they were further proof that Ash had been falling in love with me long before my life was truly on the line—long before I’d been willing to admit that I’d been falling in love with him. They were further proof that our hearts, our souls were truly one.
When Ash returned from speaking with Rhain, he immediately joined me. Bracing himself with one knee on the bed, he caught the back of my head and brought his down to mine. His lips tasted of desire as he claimed my mouth in a languid and tender kiss. Every touch of his lips sent shivers down my spine.
“I think you missed me,” I said when we parted. I felt a little breathless.
Table of Contents
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