Page 7 of The Forgotten Prince
Or would he turn his back on her and withhold support?
“You are exhausted,” Málik said quietly. “Rest.”
“I can rest when I am deceased,” Gwendolyn returned petulantly, not wishing to be told what to do. It had never worked too well for Demelza, and she didn’t appreciate it now, coming from Málik, regardless of how she felt about him—but especially because of how she felt about him!
“A travesty which might occur sooner than you anticipate if you do not take care, Gwendolyn.”
Gwendolyn…
Gwendolyn…
Gwendolyn…
The velvety sound of her name on his lips wove its way into her thoughts, obliging her to close her eyes… if only for a moment. And yet, she still found her voice. “I will try if you lay by my side,” she said sleepily, patting the bed beside her and smiling, despite knowing the answer before he gave it.
He didn’t stir from his place by the door, offering a dark, throaty chuckle instead, but then, just as Gwendolyn had expected, he didn’t approach the bed.
Damn the sun and moon.
Damn the stars as well.
No matter. She didn’t want him to come to her, Gwendolyn reassured herself, even if some silly part of her woman’s heart couldn’t resist testing him—why, she didn’t know. It always made her feel worse.
Even now, the word “no” hung in the air as tenaciously as the scent of piss seemed to cling to her halls. He needn’t even speak the word aloud for it to ring in her ears.
“The konsel will argue for hours to come,” he suggested. “Once they are done, Bryn will rejoin you. Meanwhile, I intend to remain in the antechamber.”
Damn herself as well, for caring too much—for desiring things she oughtn’t to desire.
“Rest,” he said once more, and even as he spoke the word, Gwendolyn’s lids grew heavier and her breathing slowed.
Was he using powers of persuasion?
Nay. He wouldn’t do that—not to her.
The truth was somewhat less unpleasant. Over the course of these past months, she had spent nearly every waking moment putting this city to rights. Now that it was done—at least for her part—the burden of her duties weighed her down.
“Rest,” she heard him say again, and this time the sound seemed to come from faraway, as though in a dream, and Gwendolyn loosed all thought from her mind… except one: The night Málik came to her on the ramparts. It was the most delightful moment of her life… the most tormenting as well. He had kissed her sweetly, offering his heart for the taking… and then… promptly snatched it back.
But nay, that wasn’t true.
He’d been willing to run away with her.
It was she who’d refused.
For the second time.
Out of duty.
Even so… she loved him… with a desperation she daren’t confess. More than anything, Gwendolyn needed him to join her on this bed, so she could wrap her arms about him, and then lie beside him, with her lips pressed against the warmth of his cheek… Alas, if, after all this time, there was one thing she found to envy about Ely, it was this: Ely had found her true love. And every night, they would curl up in each other’s arms, and kiss…
Wistfully, Gwendolyn inhaled, filling her lungs with Málik’s remembered scent, and somewhere in the distance, she heard a door close. Only then did she allow herself to drift into slumber… and… rest.
3
Morning?
Truly?