Page 15 of His Dark Delights
And so, we drank, and drank, using alcohol as a salve for our weary spirits in the stormy hours of the night. All the while, in the brittle moments between words, I knew that my time with Lilly was far from over. Whatever we shared couldn’t end. Because I wouldn’t allow it.
Tossing and turning, dreams of mornings bathed in the buttery light of dawn, when I would awaken to her soft flesh against mine and her curves submitting to my touch, infiltrated my nights.
I dreamt of her subtly humming as she tended to her garden.
Of her bell-like laughter when she chased and danced with her animals near the stream.
I remembered the crisp spring air and dew-kissed flowers in her meadow.
I dreamt of watching her through the cottage windows as she worked, her divine figure haloed by the horizon.
She was a dream, a nightmare, a forbidden creature of strength and peace that called to me. Lilly was the sky, the earth, the flowers blooming under the embrace of the sun. My tether to a semblance of peace I thought forever ripped from beneath me.
I spent countless days dragging myself through the routine of palace life, sorting through the memories of our time together.
Though our conversations had been simple, they unburdened me.
There was something profound about sharing a softer side of myself I’d almost forgotten existed.
Conversations unburdened by war, by duty to a crown, had unraveled a tension I didn’t know I carried.
Lilly, speaking of her dreams, of her years with her father, were cherished memories now.
Even in memories, she captivated me. In moments where I disregarded my council, my irritating great aunt, or the droning subjects of the kingdom, I returned to her in my mind.
And in those moments, I lost myself in the depths of my feelings—my obsession—so fierce it unsettled me.
That farm on the outskirts of my kingdom had become an unforeseen haven.
A place where, for one monumental week, time had seemed to stand still.
In my dreams, I returned to walking through her meadow hand in hand with the spring sun warming our skin.
In dreams, I returned to Lilly where she showed me the simple beauty of her life and provided a sense of peace that had eluded me since my world succumbed to bloodshed.
Those dreams planted seeds, ideas in my waking mind, and at dawn, I would water them and watch them grow.
Flowers for her, with her, flowers with the promise of a new life, the kind she deserved—with me.
Our last night together, I’d wanted to tell Lilly everything, to divulge the truth of my identity.
Fear had cut the confession from my tongue when she lamented her views on the war.
Fear of losing her. Then in the morning, I lost her anyway.
Her tears cut me to the quick, sharper than any blade that had ever permanently marred my skin.
I shouldn’t have gotten on that horse and rode away.
I should have broken down her door, tossed her on the saddle with me and brought her back—by my side—where she belonged.
The decision not to take her formed chains around my heart.
Lilly’s absence was an ache that refused to fade, like a persistent bruise reminding me of the peaceful bliss I’d forsaken by leaving her behind.
I had to see her again, by whatever means necessary.
And if required, I would beg her forgiveness.
Those thoughts left me more restless than ever.
Driven by my insatiable hunger, I summoned Rhydan and a few knights.
My friend stood loyal and silent, aware of the turmoil I carried.
The others, whose names I vaguely recalled, weren’t as important.
“You return to that farm and retrieve the girl,” I addressed Rhydan, my voice far steadier than my erratic heart. “Find Lilliana and bring her back to the palace by whatever means necessary.”
“Why aren’t you going?” Rhydan asked. The other knights winced at his impudence, but neither of us spared it a second thought.
“After my injuries and everything I missed during my absence, the council and my aunt are doing everything in their power to keep me here.” My voice lowered, edged in severity. “But this task is of utmost importance. Keep it quiet and make it quick.”
The knights nodded with unquestioning obedience.
“Alright, my friend.” Though he looked hesitant, Rhydan complied. They departed, leaving me with the flayed knots of my desperate anticipation. In their absence, I paced the length of my office, my inner turmoil leaking out to the surface.
The kingdom of Elleslan was mine, gifted to me with the untimely death of a bastard I’d never known. But what was a throne, a crown, a kingdom when I felt like I had nothing of worth in her absence?
Days passed, and I wandered the sapphire halls of the castle like a specter, haunted endlessly by memories and doubts, by hope and lost possibilities.
I balanced on the knife’s edge of insanity, consumed by imagined visions of seeing Lilly again, of the chance of reconciliation.
Beneath that hope lingered the slithering, thorn riddled vines of anxiety that she would refuse me—that I had lost her permanently.
And I refused for that to be our reality.