Page 54 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

“How good is your rider?” Kitty asks me, perfectly serious. “Does Perseus like them?”

“It has more to do with trust than like,” I say. “I’m not sure Perseus likes many people. Maybe just Mirth and my cousin, Bev.”

“We’re still working on trust …” Mirth murmurs. “Perseus and me.”

That knifes me through the heart. Because even though she’s referencing the night she scared the shit out of both of us, My Highness isn’t just talking about the horse.

Only a few weeks ago, I pulled her off Perseus’s back before he could slam her into the fencing …

Only a few weeks.

To fall for Mirth hard and fast, so fast.

Only a few weeks to make a lifetime commitment …

Actually, that part didn’t take more than a minute.

I try to catch Mirth’s gaze, but she’s an expert at not quite looking where she doesn’t want to look. The sunglasses don’t help. I’ve always disliked them, though I know she wears them for more than sun protection.

“Who is the rider, then?” Tommy asks.

“Andrea Quinn,” I say, stepping close enough that I can see the central vid display screen and a portion of the track.

“Her stats should be up on the screen now. Andi’s ridden my horses for just over a year.

Only time and a few races will let us know if she’s a good pairing with Perseus.

” I point to the large screen where they’re now running the stats on the horses and the jockeys, including pictures of both beast and rider.

The betting is still open while each rider does a single slow canter with their horse around the track. “There.”

Mirth follows my gesture, then goes very still. “Andrea Quinn,” she murmurs. “Andi. I thought she was one of your trainers. I saw her at Waterfell.”

“That too,” I say, swallowing through a sudden twisting sensation at the base of my throat.

“Are those good stats, then?” Tommy asks.

“Fair,” I say, still talking around that odd phantom pain. “Not as experienced as most of the other jockeys racing today. You’ll see when you compare. But Andi’s win ratio is just as high.”

The next horse in the race— a four-year-old black thoroughbred with white points— starts its loop of the track on the opposite side of the stadium from where Andi is exiting on Perseus.

“Oh, pretty!” Kitty exclaims.

“But not as fast as Perseus,” I say smugly. “We’ve only got a few minutes until the race. Elias wants both of you to eat something, and Sully needs to look at your arm, Tommy.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy mumbles even as he’s already moving. The idea of some extra pain relief clearly isn’t as bad as he’s making it seem.

“Mirth and I will be right down.” I touch Kitty’s shoulder, directing her to follow her brother.

Tommy stops abruptly, looking at Mirth. “We can wait.”

“Take the binoculars,” Mirth says, perfectly pleasant. “You can watch the replay on the monitors, but you’re going to want to focus on the finish line during Perseus’s actual race.”

Tommy nods a little hesitantly. But when Kitty offers him her hand, he takes it. His little sister drags him through the door, leaving it open.

“Has Andi been at Lake Thun as well?” Mirth asks in that polite tone.

Thrown by the subject change — at least in my mind — I hesitate. Mirth’s face is turned to me, chin lifted, so I’m certain she’s looking right at me, at my eyes, though her own eyes remain shadowed behind her sunglasses.

“You’re lovers,” Mirth says. It’s not a question. “Her face fell when she saw me coming out of your rooms at Waterfell.”

“What? No,” I stutter, actually blindsided. “Andi? She … did she say something? We did … we were, but not —”

“It’s not like you don’t know who I’m fucking, right, Rian?” Mirth says, all fucking icy tone and sedate smile.

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear who the fuck you’re fucking, Mirth. Or who you want to fuck if you haven’t quite gotten there yet,” I snap. All the words, all the frustration, are out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying.

The smile slides right off Mirth’s face.

My chest feels like there’s an anvil on it. I can barely breathe.

“That’s good,” she says quietly. “I’m glad I was clear from the start.”

Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Mirth has been clear. Very, very clear about what she wants from me, about getting my consent, and —

Oh, fuck. “Mirth, I —”

“I’ll release you.”

The anvil is replaced with a fucking dull-edged steel sword, skewered right through my chest. “What?”

“Or you can reject me,” she says as if the words aren’t carving right through my heart. “Actually, that might be easier. On you.”

Easier? On me? “Mirth …” I gasp through the pain.

“We haven’t formalized the bond, signed any contracts. You don’t know the others at all, so your ties to them should be minimal. You can go back to Waterfell. I’ll send Perseus with you. With his ownership papers. As a … thank you for … being there for me when I felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

I sit down hard, vaguely thankful that there’s actually a chair behind me.

This twisting in my chest …. I get it … I get it now.

It’s Mirth. It’s what Mirth is feeling, tangled through everything I’m feeling. It’s the opposite of when she orgasms. When she’s relaxed and content, and all the things I should be trying to —

Mirth lays her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rian. I shouldn’t have …” Her voice hitches.

I’ve let my head drop in my hands. When did I stop looking at her? Trying to connect with her? I snap my head up.

Tears snake down her creamy cheeks from beneath the glasses. “I knew I was asking too much,” she says.

Oh, fuck me. The other four weren’t just teasing downstairs. About Mirth never having so-called whims. I don’t know her well enough to know her like that, but they do. They do. And they already know that Mirth never asks for anything for herself.

Except me.

She asked me for a ride. And I said yes.

I said fucking yes.

“I don’t think it will take any formal words between us for you to reject the bond. But I’ll have Elias look that up for you.” Mirth’s fingers slide across my shoulder as she withdraws her hand, withdraws from me, turning away but lingering on that touch.

That last touch.

My brain restarts. I don’t know where the fuck my head has been these last few days. But I’m here now. I’m here.

I lunge for Mirth, going down on my knees where I fucking belong as I grab her hand back.

She gasps, stumbling slightly.

I press her hand to my chest, over my wildly beating heart. “Listen, listen, Highness, please.” I take a deep breath, trying to sort through all the words, to find the right ones. But there aren’t any.

“I love you,” I gasp. “Highness. Princess. Mirth. Euphrosyne. I fucking love you. I know it’s only been a few weeks.

It’s too quick. We’ve only had these stolen moments together.

And maybe we’re soul bound, maybe this is fate, and this desire is triggered like that … but I … I know it’s more than that.”

She laughs quietly, wetly. “More than being created for each other by the very universe that sustains us? Sustains the world?”

“Well, when you put it like that?” I shrug, desperately trying to be playful with her.

To be her light. Her safe spot. I tug her a little closer, still on my knees and gazing up at her.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to work.

I’ve been up in my head about it. About where I fit with the others.

What I can possibly give to you that any one of them can’t —”

“You aren’t interchangeable parts,” she snaps.

I laugh. “I get it now. I get what I bring you. What I want to bring you.”

She tilts her head. “And what is that?”

“I’m a blank slate. A new start. We don’t have any past together, no baggage. And no expectations. I don’t have responsibilities to an important position or an estate. Or even, sad as it is, familial obligations. I’m yours, Highness. I choose to be yours.”

Mirth’s lips part slightly as she listens to me lay out my epiphany to her, pretty much in real time as I’m experiencing it.

She takes off her sunglasses. Not touching me, she leans over me. I tilt my face up to her, and all her dark hair falls down around us. And I understand. She’s taking us back to that moment. That moment in my bed where she asked me to hide away with her.

“I won’t falter again,” I whisper, aching to kiss her but not closing the space between us.

“At first sight,” she says, her violet eyes burning into my soul, claiming me over and over again. “When I thought I was lost. My soul bruised and raw. When I worried I couldn’t go on without Armin, that I would never heal the wound of losing him. I saw you. I needed a ride.”

“And I gave it to you.”

“I loved you, Rian, at first sight. I just didn’t think I was going to be able to keep you.”

“Keep me, Mirth. Will you let me be yours? Will you let me be part of your bond group?”

“Yes.”

I surge up on my feet, taking her face in my hands and her lips with my mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I pant between kisses. “I won’t falter again.”

She smooths her hands up and down my back, our roles reversed in the moment …

And that’s all a part of it, isn’t it? This give and take in a natural flow.

“The race,” she murmurs against my lips.

“Fuck,” I groan.

She laughs. The vestiges of that suffocating pain in my chest, that emotion clogging my throat and stopping up all my words, disperses. I’m light-headed, high on joy. High on Mirth.