I spoke to Noble about wanting to heal the rift between our two realms, but what I truly want is to heal us. For us to make peace so we may have a future. So that I can have my warmth in Winter where he will not refrain from draping his strong arms around me every night.
Noble stands beside me, a curious look on his face as his blue eyes darken to a shade of gray, seeming to drink me in the same way I took in the sun. I smile at him with a shy lift of my lips. He brushes his knuckles over my cheek and I shut my lids, so I can remember his touch when the moment passes. And it will pass, with an abruptness that leaves me hollow.
“You look magnificent basking in the heat of the sun,” he says.
He peers down at me, his eyes questioning me. I answer him the only way I know he’ll accept. Leaning into him, I press my lips to his, cupping my palm against the light stubble on his cheek. When I step away, he tugs me back to him, and his mouth covers mine. Noble steals my breath but I don’t mind. I part my lips, welcoming his wild yet faultless taste as his tongue sweeps and slides against mine.
It’s as if he’s never touched me, and I’m desperate to feel the heat of his skin on my fingers so I glide my hands beneath his shirt and drag them over his expansive back. His muscles coil beneath my touch and he grips me by the waist, dragging me closer to him.
He growls my name and I lose my senses, needing so much more than stolen kisses and frenzied touches.
Eyes unfocused, mind in utter chaos, I step away from him. My chest lifts and falls as I heave in frantic breaths. Noble buries his fingers into his hair and drags in his own breath of air.
It isn’t enough. With us, I don’t think anything will ever be enough.
He takes two steps away from me and shakes his head, but I know the fog between us will never clear. There’s too much at stake for either of us to let our guards down again.
I go to him and take his hand. He turns his face to look at me, his expression mapped with confusion and the same disquiet I feel. “We are united. Always, in front of my old pride or your - our pack, we must be viewed as one.” My voice is low, my heart adorned in bleak sadness. “When we are alone, you may treat me as the estranged nobody you both desire and despise.”
“Liana.” His tone is stern, while his telling eyes plead behind the torment. Fingers that have both caressed and bruised my skin tighten around my own while he fists his other hand by his side. “It isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it?” I arch an eyebrow in his direction while a sad smile plays across my face. “One minute you can’t keep your hands off me, the next you recoil from my touch. You don’t trust me, Noble. You blame me for your father’s death. Your mother can’t be in my presence without bursting into tears. Your pack hates me, and there are too many days I wonder if you feel the same.”
“I don’t hate you.”
Although the sky is clear, thunder claps in my ears and I drop my smile. “You don’t love me either.”
“And you, Liana, Princess of the Lions, Queen of the Wolves, do you love me?”
More emotions swim inside me, making my head light and my heart feel like lead.
“Do not pretend as if our marriage were anything more than politics. My father,” he swallows hard, “my father and your father wanted us married to unite our realms so that we may fight against the human hunters preying against our kind. There is no room for love when all that surrounds us is war and violence.”
“Of course, husband.” I bow my head, hiding the hurt from my expression, and curtsy. “You are correct.”
Sensing Crede’s hasty approach, I square my shoulders and tip my chin. Where I once thought Crede’s stride was powerful and elegant, I now notice the sloppy impatience in every urgent step and I can’t help but wonder if it was always there. If I had been so blind to nothing but the throne that I never saw him as the flawed man that rushes to my side.
Without greeting Noble, he takes me in his arms. His embrace is strong and intimate while I keep my hands slack on either side of me. For Noble, I don’t return my oldest friend’s hug, but instead I push away from his hold. The lines on his forehead fold when I wrap an arm across Noble’s back and he slings a possessive arm over my shoulders.
The two men glare at each, both beasts ready to strike.
“Crede.” My skin twitches at the formality in my voice, but I keep myself steady. “It’s good to see you. We have come a long way to bear witness of your coronation.” This time I can’t fight the giddy smile that takes over my face. “You always said you’d be king.”
“I said I’d be king with you as queen by my side,” Crede replies, his voice hoarse.
I blanch. “Yes, well…”
“She is to be Queen of Winter,” Noble interrupts.
“So you say, but I’ve heard no word of her own coronation.”
“You are not yet king, Crede, but even if you were, you rule your realm. Not mine. You’ve had no word, because I do not answer to you, nor do you answer to me.”
I dig my toe into the ground, not wanting to correct my husband in front of Crede. Because the three of us know the truth. Crede will not only rule Summer, but all the realms, including Winter. That is the way of the lions.
Crede’s inquisitive eyes flash toward me and a hint of guilt crashes into me. “Noble and I have spoken of my coronation but have not yet set a date. I thought it was best to first concentrate on yours, before we focused on mine,” I explain. “My father and Noble’s father,” my attention darts to Noble in time to see the flash of hurt that darkens his features, “wanted us to unite our realms, and that is what we must do. You are to rule Summer, Crede, and by now you must know the stories of men are real. We are stronger if we fight together. It’s the best chance we have against this enemy. So, we must come together. You are to be crowned today and my coronation will take place soon thereafter. I hope you and Lia will attend my ceremony as Noble and I have attended yours.”
Crede puffs his chest out, arrogance spills from his body and the scent turns my stomach.
“Lions will not form a treaty with wolves who disrespect us,” Crede spits. “Who can’t uphold our tradition when we are the ones affected by their decisions. Arlo deserved more than what you’ve given him.”
“Do not stand there and tell me what that murderous lion deserved when he killed my father, who trusted him in the battlefield.”
“Listen to your own words, wolf. In the battlefield,” Crede says, his demeanor suddenly calm. “Your father died in the battlefield, as a soldier. What of Arlo? We assume him to be dead, but no body has been brought to us so that we can honor and mourn him.”
“Your pride may mourn him however you see fit, but you will not honor him.”
I gasp and place two trembling fingers against my lips. “Noble,” I take in a shaky breath, “give my pride Arlo’s body. Please, my king. You have no use for it. Let his parents bury their son.”
“Your pride?” he snarls.
“Crede’s pride,” I amend.