The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

“Not yet. There will be time for that later—”

“Rafe,” I said, stopping him. “Some things can’t be put off until later. We still haven’t talked about your parents. Are you all right?”

He let the tent curtain drop, blocking out the lantern light, and we were in darkness again. “I’m fine,” he said.

I cradled his face and drew him closer, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling, and it seemed tears swelled in both our throats. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” I whispered.

His jaw tensed beneath my touch. “I was where I needed to be. With you. My parents would understand.” Each word he spoke throbbed in the space between us. “My being with them wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But you could have said good-bye.”

His arms circled around me, holding me tight, and it felt like all the grief he would ever be allowed was in that grip. I could think only of the cruelty of his new position and what was immediately expected of him.

His hold finally loosened, and he looked at me, tired creases at the corners of his eyes, a smile through his exhaustion.

“Stay with me?” I asked.

His lips met mine, and he whispered against them between kisses. “Are you trying to seduce me, Your Highness?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and leisurely ran the tip of my tongue along his lower lip like it was my final course of the evening.

He pulled away slightly and sighed. “We’re in the middle of an outpost with a hundred eyes watching—probably right now from the dining room windows.”

“You didn’t seem to be worried about what others thought when you kissed me in there.”

“I was overcome with the moment. Besides, kissing you and staying the night in your tent are two different things.”

“You’re afraid you’ll taint my reputation?”

An evil grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll taint mine.”

I punched him playfully in the ribs, but then felt the smile fade from my face. I understood protocol—especially with royals. By the gods, I had lived with it my entire life. I also knew Rafe was in an especially delicate position now, all eyes newly trained on him. But we had both nearly died. I was tired of waiting. “I want to be with you, Rafe. Now. It seems waiting is all we’ve ever done. I don’t care what anyone thinks. What if there are no tomorrows? What if now is all we’ll ever have?”

He reached up and gently pressed his finger to my lips. “Shhh. Don’t ever say that. We have a lifetime ahead of us, a hundred tomorrows and more. I promise. That’s what all this has been about. Every breath, every step I’ve taken has been for our future together. There’s nothing I want more than to disappear into this tent with you, but I do care what they think. They’ve only just met you, and I’ve already disregarded every protocol expected of a prince.”

I sighed. “And now you’re king.”

“But I can at least come in and light the stove for you. That won’t take me long.”

I told him I could light it myself, but he pulled aside the curtain and led me in, and I didn’t protest further. He checked the flue in the tall round chimney that vented through the top of the tent, and then lit the kindling. He sat back on the side of the bed, watching to make sure the wood caught. I walked around the tent, brushing my fingers along the bed drapes, taking in the extravagance.

“This really wasn’t all necessary, Rafe,” I said over my s

houlder.

I heard him poking at the wood. “Where else would you stay? In the soldiers’ barracks?”

“Anything would be a luxury compared to where I have been sleeping.” I spotted my belongings on the table. They were carefully placed in a neat pile, but the saddlebag was gone. I pulled my hairbrush from the stack and began pulling pins from my hair, undoing all of Adeline’s beautiful work. “Or I could have slept in Madam Rathbone’s sitting room. Though her husband might not have—”

I heard an odd thump and turned. The poker had slipped from Rafe’s grasp and now lay on the floor.

It appeared I was going to get my wish after all.

“Rafe?”

He was out cold. He lay on my bed, his feet still on the floor, and his hands limp at his sides. I walked over and whispered his name again, but he didn’t respond. Even a stubborn king could stay awake only so long. I pulled his boots off, and he barely stirred. Next came his belts. I couldn’t wrestle with his deadweight, so the clothes would have to stay. I lifted up his legs and turned them so he was fully on the bed. He mumbled a few incoherent words about leaving and then didn’t utter another sound. I removed my pauldron and jewelry and struggled to unlace the leather corset on my own. Once I extinguished the chandelier lights, I curled up on the bed beside him and pulled the furs over both of us. His face was serene, glowing in the firelight. “Rest, sweet farmer,” I whispered. I kissed his cheek, his chin, his lips, memorizing every inch of his skin beneath my touch. A hundred tomorrows. I laid my head on the pillow next to his and slid my hand around his waist, holding him, still afraid he might slip away and our tomorrows would never come.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE