Page 4 of His Dark Delights
Lilly
Punishing storms assaulted the kingdom of Elleslan for nearly three days.
Brutal spring rains that beat the mountains and savaged the trees.
A merciless tempest as the skies remained a moody gray, forlorn and weeping over the land.
If I believed in signs from the gods, the weather might have seemed to be some portent from fate.
But it was nothing more than water falling from the clouds.
Just rain. In fleeting moments when the deluge slowed, I bundled up against the damp chill to check on the state of my animals or the drenched garden.
Spring downpours, same as every year. Nothing unusual to concern me, and no visible threats were in sight.
Save for the potential threat of an unfamiliar man recovering from the edge of death in my home. A stranger. A man. Possibly a knight of the Butcher. The ultimate trifecta of danger. All things that should have instilled caution in my bones.
Yet I religiously tended his bedside, easing the fever that came and dressing his wounds.
Days spent forcing broth past his lips and reading to him from my father’s favorite books.
I couldn’t know if he heard me since he remained unresponsive through the storms as his sickness passed and his injuries healed.
Even asleep, even on the verge of death, there was something undeniably alluring about the man.
I spent hours nibbling on honey cake and watching him.
I noted the way his brows furrowed with pain, how his lips pursed as he dreamt, and the steady rise and fall of his well-muscled chest with each breath he inhaled.
Admittedly, he was favorable to look upon.
I appreciated the slight waves of his black hair and the stray curl over his forehead.
The curve of his bow-shaped lips entranced me, and many times I fought the urge to trace them with my fingers.
His presence and the space he took up grew on me.
Nursing someone back to health, or attempting to, followed a routine already familiar to me.
It wasn’t so long ago that I’d cared for my father in his last months.
The reminder sent choking pangs through my chest that I continually battled behind stone walls.
The first splinters of blue sliced through the storm midafternoon on the third day.
Cooped up within the walls of my cottage, every nerve ending in my body buzzed to burst through the door and run barefoot through the meadow.
To feel the damp soil on my toes, the breeze in my hair.
More than anything, after being confined and ever watchful, the breath of nature in my lungs and the kiss of sunlight on my face called to me.
Though I’d never met her, I knew I inherited those traits from my mother. Every visceral ounce of my being sang with the flowers and the flora. I felt the roots in my muscles, the earth in my bones, and the rain in my veins. Half of my heritage; the gift she’d granted me through blood.
Or, in the current political unrest—a curse.
My mother; an unknown entity to me. Father told me wisps and threads about her.
Little things that slipped through my fingers when I grasped and tugged for me.
She was a concept through my childhood and youth.
Elusive yet ever present. Conversations about her usually only accompanied warnings from my father.
He never told me her name.
Instead, he told me a story of a flower nymph and a simple farmer meeting by chance and falling in love. Sometimes Father got lost in the story, telling me about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life and how their hearts beat in tune to the same song.
And Father told me he’d never been happier than when she brought me into their lives.
“The day you were born, Lilliana, all the flowers in the meadow bloomed early,” he would tell me.
“They’ve remained in constant bloom since your birth.
Those flowers were her gift to you. They will never wilt as long as she loves you. ”
My mother wasn’t there. Never returning after leaving me with my father. He told me it wasn’t safe for a human and a fae to be together with the tension lingering between them, making half-fae like myself a rarity. Mother had to leave me behind and return to her world—to the Fae Wild.
But her flowers remained. Always in bloom .
As the final clouds of gloom rolled out of sight, I ensured the knight remained soundly sleeping, tied up my hair, then rushed out the door.
A delightfully crisp breeze, heavy with the perfume of recent rain and loam, wafted through my nose and tantalized my skin.
When I flung the barn doors open, the herd burst forth into the fresh air and afternoon sunlight.
A jingling bell painted a smile on my lips. Millie lumbered toward me. Elated and renewed with fresh energy, I curved my arms around her neck. “Millie-Moo!”
“ Moo !”
“I’m glad to be outside again as well. I didn’t realize how badly I needed the fresh air,” I said. Something about being trapped in close quarters with that man made my insides incomprehensibly warm.
The chickens plucked at bugs and worms in the garden summoned by the rain.
Millie joined the goats, following me into the field where they grazed on grasses and overgrown weeds.
I crossed the stream into the thriving meadow.
Flourishing flowers dazzled with vibrant colors and raindrops glittered like gems on their petals.
They whispered and hummed to one another as they danced in the breeze.
Firmly planted among the wildflowers, I sank my toes into the rain drenched earth, relishing the dirt rolling over my toes.
I spread my arms toward the returning sun and absorbed the radiating power of golden light.
Influenced by my presence and the meager traces of fae power in my blood, the flowers shivered and unfurled further.
Growing and blooming larger than before.
I danced through the flowers, brushing against butter-yellow coneflowers, purple aster, scarlet cardinal flowers, pink-yellow wild columbine, and a variety of colored poppies.
Petals trembled as if thrilled when I twirled nearer; dancing in excitement alongside me. Their stems bent their colorfully adorned faces toward me as if heads bowed in supplication. The way I imagined one might show reverence to royalty.
Enthralled in the spell of nature, I only half paid attention when Millie-Moo meandered into the meadow. She ran beside me, chuffing and brimming with as much energy as I felt. Breathless and dizzy from spinning, I collapsed into her neck, giggling and satisfied with the break from the gloom.
I went to pet her nose, but Millie’s enormous head swung around, and her ears snapped up on high alert. A prey animal wary of a predator lurking within range. My heart skipped and my spine snapped straight.
“What is it, Millie?”
She huffed, bobbing her head to gesture behind me.
I pivoted on my heel, rapidly whirling around.
A hard surface blocked my elbow as I spun. An instinctive scream took flight from my lips and soared free. My face smacked into a hard, unyielding chest covered in cottony bandages. One brawny arm belted around me, suffusing warmth into my skin while supporting my weakened knees.
A voice deeper than canyons and stronger than mountains filled my ears and swept through my body. “Apologies, my lady. I had no intention of frightening you. Please, I’m—I’m sorry.”
The knight.
With a gasp, I snatched myself from the man’s embrace.
My heart flounced around in my chest and a pink flush rushed to my cheeks.
Stepping back and tipping my head up, and up, I met his curious, wide gaze and the richest blue eyes I’d spent countless hours thinking about.
Eyes as striking as blue Sea Holly flowers.
“Oh, my. It’s—it’s quite alright. I’m so glad to see you conscious,” I replied, voice oddly thin and breathless. Alive and awake, finally! But he shouldn’t have been up walking about so soon.
“You saved my life, didn’t you?” The wide, arousing smile that split his lips elicited a fluttering sensation in the pit of my belly.
Could he hear my heart pounding?
“I—I—Well, I suppose I did. I found you bleeding out in the forest.” Shaking fingers gestured toward the edge of the woods. Long, chiseled fingers caught my hand, toned digits encircling my entire wrist with his fingers overlapping.
“In that case, I am forever in your debt. Allow me to thank you for saving me, my lady.” My breath lurched into my throat when he lifted my hand to my face. He pressed firm, soft, and enticingly warm lips to the back of my hand. Sparks skittered over my skin where he pressed his mouth.
When he lifted his head from the back of my hand, we locked eyes. I bit down an undignified whimper provoked by the heat coursing through me. Gratitude swirled in his gaze, but so did something else I couldn’t name.
“No need to thank me, sir. It was the right thing to do.” I slipped my hand free, but the warmth of his touch remained. I dipped into the curt bow Father taught me as a child in case I ever faced a noble, as I suspected I did now.
Another scorching touch stole my breath; a gentle yet guiding finger curled under my chin forced me to rise and meet his pressing stare. “Do not bow to me—forgive me, but I don’t know your name.”
His hand on my chin erased every word I knew from my brain. My lips quivered on the verge of replying, and his keen stare caught the movement. His tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip.
“Lilliana, but you can call me Lilly,” I finally sputtered. As much as I needed to back away, his delicate touch commanded me to remain in place. “And you, sir knight?”
“Knight?” A chuckle blurted from him before he snapped down to assess himself. Clearing his throat, he faced me again. “Yes, a knight. But you may call me Ren.”