I only went and accidentally deleted half of my fics from my masterlist, including chapter 1 of Whiskey (from Sept 2018).
If anyone has a reblog of the first chapter in its entirety anywhere, I’d be so so grateful if you could send it on my way, as I don’t have it backed up anywhere and don’t want to lose it!
I only went and accidentally deleted half of my fics from my masterlist, including chapter 1 of Whiskey (from Sept 2018).
If anyone has a reblog of the first chapter in its entirety anywhere, I’d be so so grateful if you could send it on my way, as I don’t have it backed up anywhere and don’t want to lose it!
Description: Six years after abandoning Ilena to join the army and fight in the war started by Anton Severus and the Sons of Earth, Drake is back in Cordonia.
I haven’t really written (as you guys know (sorry)) for months, so please go easy on me!
Honestly, Drake wasn’t exactly excited to be back in Cordonia, but Liam was so pleased that his best friend had returned that he had downright insisted on Drake’s attendance at this evening’s ball, and who was Drake to decline an order from a king?
The ballroom is abuzz with people and in his attempts to wriggle by the cream of Cordonian high society toward the bar, Drake concludes he hasn’t missed court one bit.
“‘Scuse me, sorry, ‘scuse me, can I just get by please…” No one acknowledges his presence; no change there.
Something that had changed was Drake; gone was the simple grey suit he had always felt so out of place in, replaced with a sleek black evening suit complete with three golden stripes and a Cordonian Ruby insignia on the arm.
A group of people milling around with champagne are all that separate him from the bar and subsequently the drink or three he needs to take the edge off of the evening.
“‘Scuse me.” He announces himself as politely as he can but none of the group seem to hear him. Gently placing his hand on the shoulder of a petite woman in a green dress, he tries to edge his way through. “Sorry ma’am, just need to squeeze by you.”
“Who are you calling ma’am?”
It’s an accent so distinctive that it stops Drake in his tracks and his hand flies instantly back to his side as though her skin were made of fire. Spinning around on her heel, the woman in question draws a sharp gasp at the sight of the man before her.
“Oh…!”
She blinks a couple of times as though struggling to comprehend the situation. Drake’s face drains of colour and the two of them, both lost for words, hold eye contact for what feels like a lifetime.
With his heart hammering in his chest, he watches her expression shift from shock to confusion to anger before settling somewhere between hurt and fear.
“S-sorry.” Drake stammers. “I was just trying to-...”
“I didn’t know you were back.” Her voice is small in among the noise of the band playing at the front of the ballroom but Drake hears her loud and clear. Her chest is heaving beneath the tight fabric of her dress and a rush of colour floods her cheeks, leaving her light-headed. Not taking her eyes off of Drake, she blindly taps her friend on the shoulder and holds out her glass.
“Can you… uh… can you hold this.”
Handing across her drink, she turns and dashes toward the french patio doors before Drake can stop her, slipping easily through the crowd.
Dropping all courtesy, Drake gives chase, shoving his way through throngs of people and sending drinks and canapes flying across the dance floor, leaving a wake of disgruntled nobles, not that he cares about any of them in this moment.
Outside, the cold night air stabs at her lungs like a barrage of tiny needles. Dashing across the patio, she reaches out for the railing to steady herself, gasping for breath.
“Ilena, wait!”
“Is it really you?” She asks with her back to him, unable to form any other coherent thoughts. He comes to a stop a few feet away, afraid to get any closer.
“Yeah.” Drake runs his hands through his hair. He had followed her with no real concept of what he would say when he caught up to her. “Yeah, it’s me.”
With a deep breath, Ilena turns around to face her ghost. “Why are you here?”
“I’m home.” His words cause her stomach to flip, unsure what exactly he means by home.
Taking in the sight of her, Drake notes that she hasn’t aged a day in the six years since the evening when he had walked out of her door and seen her for the last time, and now face-to-face with her once more it’s a struggle not to look too deeply into her blue eyes and lose himself all over again.
“illy, I-…”
“Don’t call me that!” She barks, cutting him off. Her voice wavers and Drake knows that no matter how hard this is for him, it’s tenfold for her. “You don’t get to call me that anymore!”
“Umm…” He had considered the possibility of them bumping into each other tonight despite Liam’s assurances that she was highly unlikely to attend, and in all honesty it was in large part the reason he had agreed to come at all but nothing could ever have prepared him to be standing in front of her like this. She hadn’t slapped him yet, but he wouldn’t blame her if she did. “Maybe I should leave you alone?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Ilena scoffs, squeezing her eyes closed and pressing her palms to her temples as though trying to pretend this was all a bad dream. “You’re good at that.”
The words sting on impact but Drake has no comeback. It isn’t like she’s wrong. Turning away from her, he makes his way back towards the doors; far enough away to not hear the single sob that escapes Ilena’s throat the moment he’s out of earshot.
Back inside, the heat of the ballroom feels stifling and he fumbles with the top button of his shirt. There are two options available to him now; take a stiff drink to calm his nerves while he collects his thoughts, or leave the party, and possibly even the country to where he can pretend this night never happened.
The decision is made for him with the arrival of another body by his side.
“Enjoying the evening?”
“You knew she’d be here.”
Liam chuckles heartily. “You sound surprised. When have you ever known Ilena miss a party?”
Drake hadn’t known anything about Ilena for a long time other than that she was once the love of his life, and now they were strangers.
“I think, and correct me if I’m wrong, deep down you knew she’d be here too. Here.” Liam plucks two glasses from the tray of a passing waiter and hands one it to Drake. “You look like you need a drink.”
“More than one.” Drake mumbles and drains the glass in one go, annoyed at Liam’s entirely correct assumption.
***
The next hour is spent by Liam’s side mingling with old acquaintances; some he’s indifferent about seeing, some he could have lived without entirely, though there’s one old acquaintance Drake can’t get out of his head.
“3 o’clock.” Liam whispers in Drake’s ear, breaking him out of his daze.
“Huh?”
“Some Sergeant you are.” Liam elbows Drake and gestures to the right.
His heart begins to palpitate. Across the floor she’s the picture of composure, conversing with a tall, dark and handsome gentleman Drake vaguely recognises as Rashad. His jaw tightens.
“Is that-”
“Rashad?” Liam interjects. “Yes.”
“Why is she talking to him?” Drake crinkles his nose at the sight of them.
“A lot has changed since you’ve been gone.” Liam answers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
The king shrugs. “Six years is a long time, Drake. A lot has happened. Not that I’m saying there’s anything happening there,” He waves in the direction of Ilena and Rashad. “But you left… and her life had to continue… eventually.”
In truth, Drake already knew this. Liam had cautiously broke the news a few years ago that Ilena was engaged to be married while Drake was on active duty somewhere near Malta. Drake had politely requested not to be given any more details, before cutting off all contact with the palace for the next eighteen months. Upon their reconnection, Liam had decided against giving Drake any more information, nor had Drake asked.
A strange emotion washes over Drake while watching Rashad fawn over Ilena; a bubbling mixture of raging jealousy and immeasurable guilt, and he attempts with minimal success to brush it off.
“He’s done well for himself. Two-time Cordonian Entrepreneur of the Year.”
Whatever Liam has to say pales in significance in that moment as Ilena happens to look away from her companion and accidentally lock eyes with Drake for the briefest of moments, before turning her attention quickly back to Rashad.
“Good for him.” Unable to look away, Drake’s eyes are still on her when she glances over a second time. Unsure how to react, he gives a small smile and though she doesn’t return it, a warm flush appears on her cheeks and Drake watches her politely excuse herself from the conversation and disappear into the crowd.
“I’m going to the bar. I’ll find you later.” Drake follows suit, excusing himself from Liam and rushing off before the latter can object.
He isn’t sure if it was an intentional decision for Ilena to choose that moment to excuse herself from Rashad’s company or not but when Drake makes it to the bar, sure enough there she is waiting to be served. It had always been their rendezvous point when fancy events became too much, and although this time around there was to be no rendezvous he couldn’t help but wonder if she had meant for him to follow.
“Hey.” Slipping between a couple leaving with their cocktails, Drake comes to a stop beside Ilena who is trying in vain to get the busy barman’s attention.
Without looking at him, she throws her arms up in disbelief over him daring to approach her again. “Oy vey!” She exclaims, her thick Brooklyn accent as strong as ever despite her years entrenched in Cordonian high society, and it makes Drake’s stomach turn. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him to follow her after all.
“Are you ‘oy vey’ing at me?”
With a single harsh laugh, she shakes her head. “No…” A beat passes before she finally looks over at him, her shoulders slumped. “Yes, I’m ‘oy vey’ing at you.”
“Some things never change.” Drake quips back, looking coolly away from her to the barman, though inside he’s burning up, unable to handle her judgemental glare. The server eventually works his way over to the pair. Ilena is grateful for the distraction.
“Hi can I get a-...”
“A Dalmore on the rocks,” Drake cuts in over her. “And a Manhattan in a hi-ball, straight up… no cherry, no straw.” He reels off her drink of choice without daring to look at her. The order is involuntarily etched in his memory like the Cordonian national anthem, or her parting words to him when he left for the army.
“Fine, then! Go!” She shrieks, mascara-black tears staining her cheeks. In temper, she rushes across the room, picks up Drake’s backpack and tosses it at him. “Here, let me help you!” It hits him square in the chest before he can catch it and her tirade continues. “You’re not a hero, Drake. You’re a coward!”
Drake’s fist clenches. “Thank you for your honesty.” Without another word, he wrenches the door open and leaves, letting it slam closed behind him for the last time.
“I can order for myself, thanks.” Her curt voice snaps him back to reality.
“Don’t I know it.” Pulling his wallet from his suit pocket he slides out a ten and hands it over to the barman. Ilena’s line of sight falls down to the faded, cracked leather in his palm which looks like it could fall apart at any moment. It’s in stark contrast to the sharp suit he wears which she had taken an intense disliking to, but something about the sight of the worn and time-beaten object leaves her feeling sorrowful.
“You’re still hanging onto that old thing?” She nods at the tattered old wallet which threatens what little composure she’s struggling to cling to.
“I still hang onto a lot of old things.” Drake counters, snapping the wallet shut to hide the contents from her view. Looking down at her, there’s a moment of unbroken eye contact, interrupted only by the barman placing their two drinks down along with Drake’s change.
Tentatively, Ilena picks up her glass, takes a long mouthful and swallows with a cough. Truth be told, she’d abandoned her beloved Manhattans a long time ago in favour of something that didn’t taste like regret and had since forgotten how overpowering whiskey could be for the senses. “Thanks.”
Turning to lean his back against the bar, Drake glances over at Ilena for what feels like the millionth time this evening, but even a million times wouldn’t be enough. She was the age now that Drake had been when they had met, and yet she had hardly changed. Her expression was a little more world-weary, and gone was much of the bright optimism that had once filled her eyes but Drake is as bewitched by her now as he had been then.
“You look... “ He begins but stumbles for words. “I mean the dress suits you. That colour is…”
“My colour?” She scoffs with an eyebrow raised.
Drake can’t help but laugh with her. “Yeah. Your colour.” His mind runs back through the spectrum of greens he’d seen her wear in the past. This is by far the most beautiful.
“Guess some things really don’t change.” Joining Drake in leaning on the bar, Ilena sighs heavily. “Is it really you? Like, really really?”
“You can pinch me if you don’t believe it.” He holds his arm out to her playfully but her expression sours and she shakes her head.
“No, I can’t…” She doesn’t finish but Drake knows the thought of touching him is too much. The feeling is mutual.
Each minute that passes between them is disorienting.
“I’m sorry about earlier. It wasn’t the way I’d hoped to be reintroduced.”
Ilena swirls her drink in the glass. “How long have you been back?”
“A few weeks.”
“Oh… how long are you back for?”
Finishing his drink, Drake places the glass down on the bar and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “For good.” Looking out over the room to avoid her eye, he continues. “My term is up.”
Ilena chews over the knowledge for a few moments before speaking. “You’re not re-enlisting?”
There’s a sadness in his demeanour that Ilena can’t, or maybe just doesn’t want to place.
“No, I’ve served my time.”
This irks her. “Served your time?! You make it sound like a prison sentence.” Ilena snaps, losing her cool ever so slightly. “If I remember correctly, it was your decision to go!”
There it is. The resentment he had anxiously expected, but just as soon as it appears, it dissipates.
“Sorry.” Ilena restrains herself. “It was a long time ago.”
“It’s okay.”
It simultaneously feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago to Drake, and he suspects by her reaction that Ilena feels the same way.
“Liam said Valtoria is doing really well?”
“Yeah, we keep things interesting.”
There it is. We.
“I… um... “ Drake stops and takes a deep breath. “I heard you got married.”
The awkwardness between them multiplies tenfold as Ilena looks down to the ground. “Not quite. Never made it down the aisle.” Her expression makes him feel guilty for prying. “Cold feet.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies seem to take up residence in Drake’s stomach at this news.
“Oh… I’m sorry.” Am I?
“Should have known when Colin didn’t take to him.” Ilena states with a sad smile. “Can I get another of these?” She calls to the barman, needing something to wash down the lump in her throat.
“How is Colin?”
In the bustle of the room, Ilena feels two feet tall and Drake’s continuing attempts at small talk do nothing to ease her anxiety.
“I’m sorry… I can’t do this.” Ilena’s bottom lip trembles and Drake knows full well this is all his fault.
“It’s okay.” His voice is familiar and soothing, but when he moves his hand closer to hers on the polished teak of the bar in an attempt at comfort it pushes her over the edge.
“No, I… I need a minute.” She gasps, smacking his hand away. “This is too much. Please don’t follow me.”
***
It becomes very apparent to Drake why Liam was so desperate for him to attend when the king takes to the stage to give a lengthy speech of thanks to all for attending. Seated alone at the edge of the room to avoid conversation, Drake isn’t at all prepared for Liam’s next move.
“And a particular thank you in particular to one of Cordonia’s most loyal citizens…”
Oh no
“A man who has worked tirelessly over the last six years to erase the threats that faced Cordonia, and keep the citizens of this country safe.”
Oh god, no
“A man without whom some of us may not even be here this evening.”
Catching Ilena’s eye from the stage, an impish smile plays on the corner of Liam’s lips, as he is spurred to continue.
“A true hero of our nation.”
For fuck sake, Liam
“This evening, I’d ask you all to join me in wishing a warm welcome home to Sergeant Drake Walker of the First Royal Battalion of Cordonia.”
All but one of the attendees join Liam in a round of applause as Drake smooths down his jacket and reluctantly makes his way up to the stage.
“You’re a bastard.” He mumbles in Liam’s ear as the two embrace.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to give a speech.” Liam chuckles.
Standing awkwardly to attention beside Liam, Drake tries to look continually straight ahead as the king continues his speech, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone below for fear of seeing her.
“I’m happy to announce that after completing six successful years in active duty, Sergeant Walker will be retiring from active military service in Greece to return to his home and, I hope, to the Royal Court. As many of you may know, Sergeant Walker comes from a line of honourable men; with his father Jackson being my own father’s personal guard until his untimely passing in the line of duty, and in more recent times you will remember Drake saving our very own Duchess of Valtoria from gunfire in a terrorist attack.” Liam’s statement hits Drake almost as hard as that bullet, leaving him stony faced. “The Walker family have been nothing but an asset to the crown and to our nation and so, as a token of our gratitude, I would like to personally offer Drake a permanent role at court as part of my defence and security council.”
Stepping back from the podium, Liam gestures with a devilish grin for Drake to take the stand.
So much for no speech.
“Erm…” Clearing his throat, Drake takes to the mic, heart pounding. “Good evening. I’m not much of a public speaker so I’ll keep it brief, but I’d like to thank King Liam for this generous offer.” He looks over to Liam for reassurance, but is annoyed by the king’s stupid beaming grin. “I… um…” He pauses and looks over the room, at last spotting her in among the crowd by the far wall and it throws him off completely. He says the only thing that comes to mind. “I only have one thing to say; no matter where I travelled throughout my service, my heart always remained here…” He tears his gaze away from her to address the rest of the room. “In Cordonia. Thank you.”
***
The furious click-clacking of heels on the marble floors of the quiet corridor tell Liam he’s being followed.
“Good Evening, my lady.” He teases, knowing it couldn’t be anyone else. “I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace now?” He offers up his elbow to escort her back in the direction of the ballroom, but she smacks his arm away in temper and places herself in his path.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was back?”
She looks so small standing in front of Liam, and he almost feels sorry for her if not for the knowledge that his actions were for her own good.
“Because I knew if I did, you wouldn’t come.”
“Liam... “ Ilena begins, but her friend cuts her off, taking her by the shoulders.
“Talk to him.”
“I can’t.”
“I thought you may say that.” Reaching into the inner pocket of his dinner jacket, he pulls out a small envelope. She recognises the messy scrawl on the front from the post-it note confessions of love frequently left on her bathroom mirror in days gone by.
“You’ll think of something,” Liam tells her softly, pushing the envelope into her palm. “You must excuse me, the dancing will start soon and Olivia will be most unhappy if I keep her waiting.”
With a deep breath and a reassuring nod from Liam who swiftly retreats back to the ballroom, she slips out the contents and unfolds the letter. The date at the top of the page is marked several months ago.
Hey,
How are you? We landed in Auvernal this morning.
I’m having a rough week. The thought that I only have a few months left is something I’m struggling with. I don’t know if I’m ready to come back to court. I don’t know if it’s fair on Ilena for me to barge back into her life. At least one of us should be allowed to move on from my mistakes. My therapist says “it can be helpful to revisit our past and apologise for our wrongdoings”, but honestly that sounds like bullshit. Why should I get to ruin her happiness and open old wounds just so I can maybe not feel guilty anymore?
I don’t deserve her forgiveness.
I get back to Cordonia on 14th October, but I’ll probably stay away from the capital for a few weeks while I find somewhere to live.
Please don’t tell illy I’m coming back yet. I don’t want to upset her any sooner than I have to.
See you soon,
Drake
***
Drake has never seen anyone look as utterly dejected as Ilena, sitting at a circular table nursing another hi-ball. Rashad is next to her once more, chattering away about something that she appears clearly uninterested in.
From the other side of the room, the band’s tempo changes and people all around the room stop their conversations to couple up on the dancefloor.
A Cordonian Waltz.
Would she dance with Rashad?
His suspicions appear to be confirmed when Rashad finishes his champagne and turns to her. Drake can’t hear their conversation, but when Rashad stands and stalks off in the direction of another group of ladies, Drake takes it as a sign.
Something deep in his soul compels him to go to her and abandoning his chair, his drink and his own conversation, he crosses the room in a number of easy strides and comes to a stop in front of her. He inhales deeply, but she interjects before he has a chance to speak.
“Drake, please, I really-...”
“Dance with me.” He asks, voice firm and steady. He holds his hand out to her and she looks from his face to his outstretched palm and back.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“You wanna be the only one not dancing?” He asks, drumming up every ounce of false confidence possible. “I’ve never seen you sit out a dance.”
Her expression is solemn and she shakes her head, twirling the tablecloth hem between her fingers. “It’s different now.” There’s a weight to her statement and though her makeup is flawless, he can tell from her voice she’s been crying.
“illy… Just one waltz.”
For longer than is comfortable, Drake keeps his hand outstretched to her with no response.
Just when it seems clear that she isn’t going to accept and he will have to admit defeat, her hand slips into his and both of them hold their breath. Drake wordlessly helps her up and leads her to the middle of the floor as the first few notes sound out.
Like they had so many times before, the two of them fall into the perfect starting position.
“You remember how?”
“I’m not the one who’s been away for six years.”
With Ilena’s hand resting tentatively on Drake’s shoulder, he closes one hand tightly around hers, relishing the electric feel of her skin on his. His free hand slips around her waist and he’s dismayed to feel her whole body stiffen at his touch.
The band jumps into the waltz before Ilena is prepared and Drake whisks her off her feet with the opening step.
“Thought you said you remembered?”
“It’s… it’s been a while.” In truth, Ilena hadn’t danced a Cordonian waltz since her dance partner traded in court for combat.
The music is dizzying, but once Ilena gains her footing the two of them move together with ease like no time had passed.
“Left.” Drake urges softly, leading her into a left turn, and then another.
All the spinning and swirling sends the alcohol rushing right to Ilena’s head and she loosens up at last, leaning into Drake’s steady arms. The heady scent of his cologne elicits a visceral reaction from her and it’s increasingly difficult not to let herself get carried away.
Drake knows better than to attempt anything too fancy and forgoes the traditional final lift of the dance in favour of twirling her gracefully outwards and then back into his grip as the waltz ends. Neither makes any attempt to let go of the other as the tune devolves into a slow dance, Drake takes this as encouragement to continue; leading her into a simple foxtrot.
Knowing she’s far too polite to run off mid-dance, Drake knows this is his best chance to have her hear him out. Three minutes to hash out six years worth of apologies…
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I ended things.” He begins. “There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t regret what happened.”
“It’s in the past.” Ilena near-whispers, turning her face away from his. She’s reluctant to reopen old wounds here, knowing herself not to be strong enough to keep it together. It had taken years to accept it was over after Drake left, in fact it was a daily struggle even now, and these last few hours alone had begun to undo years of hard work. “Can we just dance?”
His grip on her palm loosens and shifts, interlinking their fingers, and he thinks he briefly feels her squeeze back though it could just be his hopeful imagination.
“If I could go back and change it, I would. I need you to know that.”
In time with the music, he spins her around and then brings her back to his chest, a little closer than standard for a slow dance of this style.
“After this happened,” He shrugs the shoulder which had been injured so long ago. Ilena knows what lies beneath the sharp lapel of his suit. “I never really got over it.”
The topic is painful for Drake, and Ilena can see the worry-lines between his brows deepen as he relives that night.
“I knew then that I couldn’t keep you safe.” His voice breaks and Ilena catches her breath. “It wasn’t enough for me to protect you. I had so much rage.”
He stops for a breath, turning her again like a tiny doll inside a music box.
“I got obsessed with finding who tried to hurt you. It completely consumed me and knew that I couldn’t do anything about it from the palace.”
The memories flood Ilena’s mind as though it were yesterday; the endless nights Drake would wake up dripping with sweat, screaming out for her and she would cradle him in her arms like a child while he fixated on “what if…?”. The war had broken out shortly after the terrorist attack on the palace and Drake had become fixated. To Ilena, his idea of military enlistment had seemed like a whim at first, but with each passing day it became more and more of a serious reality which threatened to destroy everything they’d built. She holds her breath, overwhelmed by the recollection.
“I know now that I was suffering from PTSD, but back then I thought that if I went out there I could help… put an end to it, and then you would be safe, and I could come back to you and we’d carry on like nothing happened. But I was so busy trying to play the hero that I never thought about how much I pushed you away. I didn’t realise that everything would change.”
“You never even said goodbye.” She whispers back. By now heavy tears are brimming in Ilena’s eyes. She rests her head against his chest and it feels like returning to her childhood home; so familiar and yet somewhere that doesn’t belong to her anymore.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m trying to work through some things. My uhh… my therapist thinks I need to do it so I can move on.” He mumbles, flushing red.
The idea of him wanting to move on was something Ilena hadn’t even considered. Was all of this leading up to the goodbye she resented not getting the first time around? The two sway in silence for a few moments before Ilena finds words.
“I never wanted to be safe. I just wanted to be with you.”
“I know.” Unclasping their hands, Drake puts his other arm around her, holding her close to his chest, both of them abandoning the dance in favour of a simple sway in time to the melody. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.”
She still fit in his arms as easily as she had the first time and at first she allows herself to be embraced but as the slow dance winds down and the band continue into a sensual rumba she panics and stands upright.
“I’m going to go and get another drink.” She announces, seeing the transition between songs as her escape route, but when she turns to leave Drake grabs her wrist and pulls her back in until they are face-to-face and hip-to-hip.
“illy, I know I ruined everything... but I never stopped loving you.”
It’s almost slow-motion, and the rest of the people in the room seem a million miles away as Drake leans in closer. Ilena is terrified, but feeling his hands at her waist, muscle memory kicks in and her eyes flutter closed. There’s a magnetic pull between their bodies and by now they‘re so close Drake can feel her shallow breath against his mouth.
His bottom lip brushes so slightly against her top one and his heart pounds so fast he feels like it could burst out of his chest.
“No!”
Their almost-kiss is broken when Ilena cries out, pushing him away with a look of panic in her eyes. “Don’t...”
He’d blown his one chance being overzealous.
“Can we… can we get some air?”
We.
“Sure.”
Pushing through the crowd in search of somewhere she can recollect herself, Ilena walks straight past the patio doors towards the exit of the ballroom with Drake in hot pursuit.
Once outside the palace she slumps down on the edge of a fountain to catch her breath with her head in her hands, while Drake stands awkwardly in front of her, unsure of what to do next.
“Do you need me to get you some water?”
“No, thank you.” Rubbing her face on her arm, she looks out into the distance. “Did you know I would be here when you agreed to come tonight?”
“No. But part of me kind of hoped you would be.”
“I wish I’d known. It would have been nice to be able to prepare, y’know?”
Joining her on the edge of the fountain, Drake feels as lost as Ilena. “I don’t think you can prepare for something like this.”
By now it’s almost midnight, and the strapless silk of her gown doesn’t offer Ilena much protection from the October evening wind. A shiver runs down her spine and Drake hears her inhale sharply as the wind ruffles her hair.
“Here.” Unfastening his jacket, he slips it off and offers it up to her.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Don’t be stubborn.” He chides, not bold enough to wrap her in it himself.
She’s too exhausted to argue. Taking it from him, she swaddles herself inside the thick fabric and relishes the warmth left behind by his body. Without the jacket, he looks more like the Drake she remembers. Military life had changed his posture, but his voice was the same, his scent was the same, his eyes were still just as breathtaking. Their dancing had loosened him up a little and the resultant way his hair hangs in his eyes makes her feel things she’d not allowed herself to feel in a long time.
Unsure what to say, she traces her fingers over the insignia on the arm of his jacket, shuffling uncomfortably. “I didn’t think you would ever come back.” She sighs after a while.
“You knew my enlistment wasn’t forever.”
“No… I mean… I thought…” He can see her frustration as she tries to find the right words. “I was an idiot that night. I was selfish and didn’t want you to go and do something you needed to do. You’re not a coward, Drake. You’re the bravest person I know, but deep down I knew that if something bad ever happened you would run straight into the line of fire… because that’s just who you are. I was stupid to try and change that.” Her voice breaks. “But every time I heard about a fallen serviceman on the news, it… it was like losing you all over again.”
Chewing his lip, Drake struggles to hear her out. Her bitterness is inescapable and knowing he’s the cause of it all is more than he can bear.
“Sometimes… God… Sometimes I would be so angry that I would wish it was you, so I could stop living in limbo, waiting for the day they’d read out your name.” She buries her face in her hands, breaking down completely. “I’m sorry, that’s such an awful thing to say.”
“Come here.” Scooting closer to her on the cold marble of the fountain, he envelopes her in his arms, one hand on the back of her head to hold her to his chest while she trembles in his embrace. “You think I’d let anything happen to me before I got to see you again?”
“No.” There’s a sniffle that Drake knows is an attempt at laughter, but it’s not enough to lighten the mood. “But n-now you’re here and I d-don’t know how I feel about that.” She sobs, the inevitable release finally hitting her. “I don’t know i-if I’m ready to have you b-back in my life.”
“I don’t expect you to know. I don’t expect anything from you.” Her words sting, but he understands her need to guard herself. Drake rests his head on hers, squeezing his eyes closed to stop his own tears from forming. “I know you’ve moved on, and I have to respect that.”
He feels a pair of small hands gripping at the back of his shirt.
A million arguments still run through Ilena’s head. She wants to scream; at Drake, at herself, at Liam for blindsiding her. She wants to run and cry and throw things. She wants to stay in these arms forever and never let go. There are six years worth of bottled up emotions bubbling just under her surface, but nothing she says can change the past.
They cling to each other for what seems like an age until Ilena’s crying subsides and she sits upright to wipe her eyes on Drake’s borrowed sleeve.
“I just don’t know if I can forgive you for leaving.”
“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. I haven’t forgiven myself.” Taking her face in his hands, Drake looks down at her with so much affection in his eyes that it physically pains her. Closing her eyes, she leans into his caress.
“Can I ask you something?”
She nods. Nervous of what is to come.
Drake bites his lip, drumming up courage.
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, but I have to know if there’s a chance, no matter how small, that maybe one day you might be able to forgive me, because if there is I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”
The question is uncomfortable for both of them and Ilena squirms at being put on the spot. “I… I can’t answer that right now.”
With a small nod, Drake hangs his head, unable to hide his disappointment. “I understand.”
Tenderly, Ilena pushes a lock of Drake’s hair back from his face and urges him to look at her.
“I’m not saying I won’t give it thought.” She answers gingerly. “But how can I trust that you won’t abandon me again?”
He gives it a moment of thought before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the frayed wallet she had mocked him for earlier. Unfolding the leather, he holds it out for her to see the picture nestled in amongst his military ID and driving license.
A look passes between them; Drake’s eyes are full of apprehension while realisation is written all over Ilena’s face.
“You still have it?”
“The wallet isn’t the only old thing I hang onto.” He reminds her.
Her heart makes the decision before her brain has chance.
Flinging her arms around his neck, she forces her lips on his with a fervour that makes both of them dizzy. Her fingers trace the familiar lines of his jaw and it sends a shudder through him.
“You have cold hands.” He mumbles against her lips.
“Warm me up.” She begs, slipping into Drake’s lap. Her hands move from his back to the nape of his neck and she tugs at his hair, deepening the kiss.
The minutes that follow are a flurry of lips and tongues and hands and before long it becomes difficult for Ilena to ignore Drake’s evident arousal against her thigh.
“Take me.” She whispers, nipping at his earlobe, desperate to feel something, anything, after six years of nothing. “Please.”
“Not here.”
Pushing her off his lap, Drake stands to his full height, towering over her even in her heels, and practically drags her down the palace drive to where a line of town cars wait to take the evening’s revellers home.
The foremost car pulls up in front of them and with Drake holding the door, Ilena clambers into the backseat and he’s soon at her side.
“Where to?”
“Rosenberg Chateau.” Ilena answers nervously, forgoing her duchy’s stately home for the smaller, unstaffed part of her grounds.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Drake asks as the engine rumbles to life beneath them.
“Don’t ruin it.” She mumbles, leaning into him again to kiss his throat, desperate to close any space between their bodies.
The short drive feels uncomfortably long, with both of them aching to do more than they could reasonably get away with in the back of a limo. The decision to leave together was reckless enough.
***
There was nothing graceful about their reunion behind closed doors. Slamming her against the wall, Drake’s lips form a frenzied assault on Ilena’s neck and she melts into him, giving herself over entirely to the past.
With one hand tangled in her hair, his other searches for the slit in her dress, and before she even has time to think his fingers are crawling up her inner thigh and she feels like she could explode right there. Furiously yanking her underwear aside, Drake touches her in ways she had long-forgotten she craved, but it all comes back to her in a haze of flashing lights.
“D-Drake…” She manages to gasp and the sound of his name on her hungry lips is like a call to arms for Drake. With a low growl of response, he grabs her by the backs of her thighs and hoists her into his arms.
Within minutes they’re in the bedroom tearing at each other’s clothes, desperate to relive what had been lost to them for so long, and when he at last crawls atop her on the mattress Ilena can barely control herself. The air in the room is thick with need and the cry Ilena lets out when Drake finally reconnects their bodies could wake all of Valtoria.
Digging her nails deep into his flesh, she pulls him as close to her as is humanly possible and relishes in his dangerous touch until pleasure overtakes everything else and she can barely recall the last six years.
***
“What happens now?”
It hadn’t been quite the romantic reunion either of them had dreamed of, in which they would make passionate love until the sun came up and then fall asleep in each other’s arms, and while it had been more than enjoyable, their pent-up hunger for each other resulted in them both being too eager and it being over in just a handful of minutes. The rest of the time had been spent just holding each other, both too nervous to speak and break the illusion.
“I don’t know.” Drake’s fingers comb through Ilena’s curls. “I think that’s your decision to make.”
“What do you want to happen?”
He presses his lips to her temple. “What I’ve always wanted. But I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
Ilena gives a heavy sigh and wriggles deeper into the nook at Drake’s side.
“I still need time to decide how I feel. Tonight has been a lot to process.” She mumbles against his warm skin and Drake wonders if this is her way of saying this was all a huge mistake. She trails her fingers through the thin strip hair on his abdomen. “But I do want you to stay at court. I’d like to maybe spend some time together.”
“I’d like that too.”
***
It’s near enough noon before Ilena wakes and blinking her eyes against the sunlight that streams through a crack in the curtains, memories of the previous evening all come back to her and at first she considers whether it had all been a horrible, beautiful fever dream.
The musky, sweaty scent that hangs in the air of her bedroom tells her that it was all real and she turns over expecting to see her long-lost lover lying asleep beside her but finding nothing but empty sheets, freshly made on one side with a fluffed up pillow, her heart sinks.
Of course she wasn’t surprised. It would be naive of her to expect anything less than for him to waltz right back into her life and leave it worse than he had the first time.
The pounding pain in her head is a reminder that she isn’t as tolerant of whiskey as she was when she was younger. Slipping out of bed she wraps the sticky sheets around her body, allowing herself just a few more moments before facing the very real notion that she had woken up alone once again, having let the same man make a fool of her a second time.
Her bare feet make no sound as she pads down the stairs, and upon seeing his shoes are gone from the hall, she knows in her bones this time it’s really, truly over. There’d be no tears. She’d already used up more than was sensible on account of one man.
She decides to deal with her feelings later. Right now she needs water and an aspirin.
Popping the two white painkillers and washing them down with a healthy helping of water, she turns and leans against the sink with her eyes closed, reliving the previous evening.
After a second glass, the throbbing pain in her temple begins to subside and she braves opening her eyes to the brilliant sunlight of her kitchen. It takes her a moment to notice anything, but then there it is as clear as day.
On the table, propped against a vase holding a single camellia bloom from her garden is a folded up piece of paper.
Crossing the room, she seizes the letter and unfolds it.
6:40am - Sorry for the note. I’m still trying to break my military routine, and you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.
Please don’t be too angry. I didn’t like the thought of it being awkward this morning. You said you needed time and I don’t want to push you.
I meant everything I said last night.
Yours always,
Drake
At the bottom is a phone number with an area code from the outskirts of Valtoria. Tossing the paper aside, Ilena races from the kitchen in search of her phone.
She makes it as far as the hall before she spots him by the door. He’s as dishevelled as she is, though dressed at least which is more than she can say for herself.
“Hi.” There’s an hesitancy to his tone and her expression makes him think maybe coming back wasn’t his most sensible idea. “I… I thought you might be hungry.” He holds up a paper bag labelled Valtorian Bagel Co. and a holder with two coffees, then places it down on a sideboard. “Are you mad?”
She sprints across the hall as fast is humanly possible and pounces at Drake who catches her with ease. Their lips lock in a searing kiss until they’re both short on breath and Ilena pulls away, touching her forehead to his.
Here have the draft opening of an as-yet-untitled WIP that I wrote 4k words on last night whilst listening to this absolute classic
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDxoj-tDDIU
Truth be told, Drake wasn’t exactly excited to be back in Cordonia, but Liam was so pleased that his best friend had returned that he had downright insisted on Drake’s attendance, and who was Drake to decline an order from a king?
The ballroom was abuzz with people and in his attempts to wriggle by the cream of Cordonian high society toward the bar, Drake concluded he hadn’t missed court one bit.
“‘Scuse me, sorry, ‘scuse me, can I just get by please…” No one acknowledges his presence; no change there.
Something that had changed was Drake; gone was the simple grey suit he had always felt so out of place in, replaced with a sleek black evening suit complete with three golden stripes and a Cordonian Ruby insignia on the arm.
A group of people milling around with champagne are all that now separate him from the bar and subsequently the drink or three he needs to take the edge off of the evening.
“‘Scuse me.” He announces himself as politely as he can but none of the group seem to hear him. Gently placing his hand on the shoulder of a petite woman in a green dress, he tries to edge his way through. “Sorry ma’am, just need to squeeze by you.”
“Who are you calling ma’am?”
It’s an accent so distinctive that it stops Drake in his tracks and his hand flies instantly back to his side as though her skin were made of fire. Spinning around on her heel, the woman in question draws a sharp breath at the sight of the man whose hand had just moments away been on her shoulder.
Tagging: my ride or dies @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite
RULE THE WORLD WITH LOVE - PART 3 - ILENA
How could it happen when we couldn't lose?
And now we're slapping makeup on the bruise
Though it was handed to us we refused
To rule the world with love
***
“That’s what I heard anyway!” The barman shrugs, placing down two pints on the bar. “My nephew, Tom, works in the stables down at the palace, or he did anyway. Said it’s the talk of the place. He mentioned it in front of that guy she was having an affair with, the Walker bloke, and he lost it and fired him on the spot.”
“I get it.” One punter chimes in. “Must be hard losing your woman to a king.”
“Yeah. He’s always been jealous of Liam. Can see it on his face.”
Seething, Drake drums his fingers against the table top, nursing his glass. Seated in a booth alone, he had a perfect view of the men and their conversation though not one of them had noticed that the man they so eagerly discussed was a mere four feet away from them in the empty pub. He could go over there and set them straight, but what would it prove except their point that he was irrevocably, agonisingly jealous of Liam?
Attempting to block out their voices, Drake wishes he’d chosen another establishment wherein Ilena wasn’t the day’s hot topic, though with the rate people are talking about her he thinks that maybe it’s a tall order to find such a place. He’d only popped in for one drink to calm himself, but one had turned into four in quick succession and he was feeling the buzz, though this wasn’t a happy buzz.
Bz bz bz… bz bz bz…
The vibrating sound emanates from his pocket, taking him by surprise. Slinging back the last of his measure, he takes the phone out and finds the screen lit up with her image.
INCOMING
illy
“Hello?”
“I changed my mind. Please come pick me up.”
***
He had assured her he would be here in less than thirty minutes, which told her he wasn’t on palace grounds, nor could he be at his own place because that was only a quarter of an hour away.
Four minutes had already passed and ignoring the fact that she had showered only a handful of hours ago, Ilena takes another; scrubbing any remnants of Liam from her skin; desperate to be cleansed of the guilt that burdens her. Every second she spends in Liam’s presence feels like a deep betrayal, and no amount of soap could cleanse that.
Grabbing an overnight bag, she throws in a few outfits and a number of practical essentials, then sets about covering up the scrape on her face. By the time she’s done, it’s barely visible and she congratulates herself on a job well done. Next, she strips the bed of the dirty sheets, takes off her wedding ring and places it in the safe by Liam’s side of the bed; the weight lifted simply by the removal of one tiny golden band is immeasurable. Inhaling deeply, Ilena tries to clear her head, though it’s difficult with the scent of Liam’s mingled sweat and expensive cologne lingering in the room.
Thirty minutes have now passed and Ilena is sick of pacing her room like a caged animal. She hoists the holdall up onto her shoulder and slips out of her quarters. The evening is still young and the palace is still milling with maids and servants who each give a low curtsey at the passing of their monarch.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
“Evening, Your Majesty.”
“Do you need anything, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.” Ilena dismisses them all with as much grace as she can muster, though much less gracious is the speed with which the maids congregate to gossip.
“What’s with the weekend bag?”
“She wasn’t wearing her ring!”
“Should we inform His Majesty?”
***
Waiting at the gates, the evening wind ruffles her damp hair and she drops her bag at her feet to wrap her arms around herself.
Forty minutes.
...
Forty four.
Hey, you said thirty minutes right? SEND
...
Forty six.
Nearly here. 2 min
...
Fifty eight minutes have passed by the time a pair of headlights announce the arrival of a car turning onto the palace driveway. Even in the dusky glow Ilena can see that it’s not Drake’s car and a lump forms in her throat.
The black town car rolls to a stop in front of her and the door opens to reveal Drake.
“Sorry. Hired car. Driver took a wrong turn.”
Ilena makes to lean in for a kiss but Drake bends to grab her bag from the ground before she gets close, and with a chivalrous hand on her back he guides her into the car.
There’s a painfully long silence between them, with Drake hitting a button to roll up the dividing screen which separates them from the view of the driver. The moment they’re alone in the back seat of the car, Drake grabs Ilena by the jaw and pulls her into a fervent, desperate kiss. There’s an unmistakable taste of alcohol on his lips and it makes her pull away.
“Are you drunk?”
Drake rests his forehead to hers, pressing butterfly kisses to the tip of her nose. “I’ve had a drink.” He moves in for another kiss but Ilena puts her hands on his chest and pushes back.
“Where were you? I was waiting almost an hour. You said you’d be thirty minutes.”
“I was at a bar.” Not seeing the concern in her face, Drake runs his hands over her hips, his lips roaming her neck.
Ilena’s brow furrows in response.
“With who?”
“Just me. C’mere.” In a swift movement, Drake pulls Ilena into his lap. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Ilena shakes her head, deciding against this route.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“You are… you’re mad at me for being at the bar.”
“I’m not.” The last thing Ilena has the energy for right now is fighting with her lover in the back of a rented limo. “Just hold me, please.” Letting herself nestle in Drake’s arms, she spends the rest of the journey trying to block out everything other than the feeling of Drake’s fingers playing with the short curls at the nape of her neck.
***
The crunching sound of wheels on dry leaves gets softer and softer as their town car pulls away, leaving the two of them alone at Drake’s front porch. Carrying her bag into the house, Drake drops it down at the foot of the stairs and Ilena hovers in the hall, unsure where she should settle. This house had been her home-away-from-home to her many times in the past, before marriage, but right now it feels strange and unfamiliar and she wonders if she’s made a mistake in coming here.
“Coffee?”
“Yes please.” She nods her head and follows Drake into the kitchen. He sets about putting on a pot of coffee and Ilena plucks two mugs from a cupboard in an attempt to be helpful.
Within a few minutes, Drake is pressing a steaming hot latte into her hands.
“It’s not decaf.” He notes offhandedly, much to Ilena’s confusion.
“When have I ever drank decaf?”
Drake shrugs, gaze flitting dubiously to her stomach. “I don’t know, I just thought that maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Leaning back against the breakfast bar, he gulps down his coffee in an attempt to sober himself up.
“So I’m guessing by the holdall that you’re here for the night?”
“I… I don’t know.” It had been her intention, but the way he asks makes her feel uncomfortably presumptuous. “I can go back if you want me to?”
“No. I want you here.” Finishing his espresso, Drake washes his cup. Ilena swallows the last of her own drink and hands her cup over to be rinsed. The tension in the kitchen is palpable and Ilena knows there’s something Drake is itching to say. She pulls the ends of her sleeves down over her hands, feeling like a child waiting to be scolded.
Drake notices the worried expression on her face and it fills him with suspicion. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” She nods her head a little too enthusiastically.
“Anything you wanna talk about?”
“Actually, can we take a nap?” Ilena asks timidly. “We can talk later, when you’re a little fresher.”
Holding her breath, she waits as Drake studies her body language. “Is this your way of avoiding telling me what’s going on?”
“No. I’m just… I’m tired.”
“Not getting enough sleep at home?” Drake asks with an eyebrow raised. “What’s keeping you up? Or should I be asking who?”
The question takes Ilena by surprise and it’s a moment before she responds. “Excuse me?”
Drake, too, takes his time with his response. “Ilena, how do you think it feels for me to hear from my 15-year-old apprentice about all the wild sex you’ve been having behind my back?”
“I haven’t been having wild sex.” Her denial is vehement but Drake knows her well enough to know when she’s not being entirely truthful.
“But you’ve been having, what, regular sex?”
His interrogation makes her uncomfortable. Had someone heard them this afternoon, or one of the days in Liam’s office maybe? Was one of her maids listening in? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities. Wracking her brain, she thinks back to her tryst with Liam. She hadn’t been exactly loud or enthusiastic, just enough to have the King believe her performance; the occasional breathy moan, one or two ‘oh yes’s.
Her silence leads Drake to continue. “People are saying they could hear you halfway across the palace last night, screaming and headboards banging against the wall. Everyone’s talking about it.”
A painful realisation dawns on her that what her staff had heard wasn’t the throes of lovemaking between a man and his wife, but Liam’s aggressively forcing her into servitude. Drake had her stuck between a rock and a hard place and ilena doesn’t know which is the best choice; tell the love of her life a hurtful lie and protect them both, or give him the truth and risk the dangerous backlash of Drake’s jealous temper.
She inhales deeply, struggling to come to a quick decision but Drake speaks first.
“Don’t worry. At least you had him pay me off with a fancy title.”
At last she manages to find her words, knowing what he refers to. “Ramsford? I never asked him to do that!”
“He brought me the deeds this morning. Said it was all your idea. I get it. You thought it would “benefit our relationship”.” The accusation hits Ilena like a smack in the face. After all she had gone through to fight against Liam’s post-nuptial agreement, could Drake really believe she would come up with something so heartless?
She shakes her head in disbelief. “How could you say that? I’ve never asked him for anything!”
“But you are sleeping with him, aren’t you?” Drake’s defensive tone has now given way to a more aggressive one. Tormented with visions of his girl writhing in the arms of his best friend clouding his head, he takes a step closer to Ilena. “Him in the evening, and me in the daytime, right? Best of both worlds?”
Never before had Ilena been afraid of Drake, and she couldn’t be sure if what she was currently feeling was fear, but the confrontation reminds her of her fight with Liam.
“Drake, stop!”
“Admit it!” He moves even closer to her. “I’m an afterthought to you!”
It might be the after-effects of the whiskey, but it takes Drake a second or two to register the impact of Ilena’s palm connecting with his cheek.
“Oh! Son of a…”
By now Ilena is practically vibrating with fury. “How dare you!” She backs away from Drake who cups his cheek in shock. Tears are brimming in her eyes but she’d been weak enough these past few days and she’s reluctant to let him see her cry. Crying is for babies, she tells herself.
The slap seems to sober Drake up more successfully than the espresso had and it’s as though he’s seeing Ilena for the first time this evening. Her whole body trembles with adrenaline and despite her size, she’s formidable. A true Queen commanding the respect of her inferior.
He gulps and their eyes lock for what seems like eternity. “illy... I di-...”
Her breaths come in loud, exasperated huffs, exhaled through her nose like a bull watching the red flag.
“It wasn’t my headboard.” She manages through gritted teeth. “And I wasn’t screaming because I was having wild sex.”
It’s far too painful to say out loud. Turning away from Drake, she tugs at the hem of her sweater and pulls it up over her head, exposing her torso to him. A lengthy black bruise runs across her back; marking the impact where Liam had thrown her carelessly against the dresser. There are a peppering of light bruises across her upper arms and the carpet burn on her right shoulder is unmissable. With the sweater held in her hand she rubs at her cheek and a smear of concealer comes away with the fabric, showing the scrape where Liam had pressed her face into the carpet and forced her hand.
The seconds that follow Ilena’s undressing feel like hours and she silently wills Drake to say something… anything.
“illy…”
He has no other words and Ilena feels him almost immediately. Two strong, loving arms wrap around her, enveloping her bruised and broken body and in this moment she knows that no matter what happens from here onwards, she’s not alone.
The tickle of his breath at her ear gives her goosebumps. “My baby…”
I need to love you with an iron fist
I need to love you with a secret list
I need to love you til you don't exist
And rule the world with love
***
Liam felt much better for having spoken to Drake, for even with the frosty reception the other man had given, Liam now had the upper hand. In truth, Liam still held hope that in time their friendship could recover. Drake knew, as he had always known that the most important thing to Liam was Cordonia and Liam was in turn confident that in time Drake would come to understand why things had to be this way right now, just as Liam knew that the most important thing to Drake was Ilena, and being as stubborn as Drake was, nothing Liam could do would change that. Would it be better for him to object to their illicit relationship? The two with their star-crossed lovers act would always run back to one another regardless, which is why Liam had made all the necessary arrangements to ensure that each of the trio might be at least partly satisfied with their situation. And besides, what was a few little white lies between friends? It was certainly more than was required of him as King, and he thought that Drake and Ilena ought to be a little more grateful.
Despite everything though, Liam did want to be with Ilena, after all she was beloved by his nation and what else could he ask for in a Queen. She had been an exceptional addition to court from day one, her short tenure as a duchess had been well-received, and in all honesty she was the best suited of the bunch to be Queen what with Madeleine being Leo’s cast-off, Olivia being… Olivia, and really the rest of the ladies didn’t even bear talking about in comparison to the New Yorker. More important to Liam than his marriage, though, was securing the throne and for that he needed an heir.
In his own way, he would openly admit that he even loved her, infuriating as she was. She had been a good friend to him before all of this, and maybe they too, like he and Drake, could repair their friendship in time. Or perhaps, even better, she would eventually forget about Drake and their marriage would blossom into more than just a for-profit business venture.
No. Liam isn’t an idiot. She is stubborn too, and she wouldn’t forget.
***
The bedroom is quiet but for Liam’s gentle humming and the distant sound of Ilena showering in the en suite. His mind wanders back through all the times they’d engaged in intimacy so far on this matrimonial journey and he wonders how many more attempts it would take before she delivers him the much-awaited news. The idea leaves a warm sensation in his chest and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut for a moment, envisioning a glowing, round-bellied Ilena looking regal in a maternity gown as they make their announcement from the balcony of the palace, Liam’s arm rests lovingly around her waist while she waves to the excitable crowds below; we are expecting!
Crossing the room to retrieve his good cufflinks from the dresser, Liam uprights a number of items from the counter which are still in disarray after their fight the previous evening. It had been shameful behaviour on his part and he makes a vow not to lose his temper so easily in future. She was his to protect, not to bully.
His suitcase is almost full by the time Ilena returns from the en suite, fresh from the shower.
Turning to her, he attempts to engage her in conversation. “Darling?”
His words fall on deaf ears, with Ilena choosing not to acknowledge his presence with anything more than a perfunctory sideways glance whilst towel-drying her hair.
“I’ll be leaving shortly.” Liam announces, not exactly expecting to be waved off with a white handkerchief. “I really think we ought to talk before I do.”
The Queen nods, yet still doesn’t even look in her husband’s direction. Passing him by, she opens her bedside cabinet drawer and retrieves the Brooklyn Bridge snowglobe Liam had put away the night before, returning it to the side of her bed in an act of defiance.
“Ilena, darling, I really would appreciate your attention.”
“I’m listening.” Her reply is curt as she continues to busy herself with getting ready. Sitting in front of her vanity, she inspects her neck in the mirror, noting each tiny bruise. Slipping her robe from her shoulders, she picks up a concealer stick and sets to work covering up each mark and setting the makeup with a powder. The carpet burns and fingertip shaped bruises that litter her upper body, as well as the sizeable scrape on her cheek aren’t so easy to hide.
Her appearance takes Liam by surprise and a deep-seated guilt washes over him. Coming up behind her, he places his hands tenderly on her shoulders. Ilena flinches almost imperceptibly at the touch but Liam feels it.
“I wanted to apologise to you.”
“Just leave it.”
“I can’t. The way I have behaved toward you is unforgivable. I have not treat you as a Queen.”
She considers going along with the display at first before ultimately deciding against submission. “You haven’t even treat me as a human.” Ilena argues, turning to face Liam at last, displaying in full view the friction burn that colours her cheek. Liam lifts his hand and brushes the back of his fingers lightly against the mark.
“I agree.” Pulling her close to his chest, Liam rests his chin on the crown of her head. She doesn’t reciprocate the embrace, but he’s pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t pull away either.
They stand in silence for a time, Ilena’s face pressed into Liam’s neatly pressed lapel, until he speaks again.
“I swear to you it won’t happen again.”
“Why would it?” Ilena replies quietly. “You got what you wanted. I’m your property now - signed, sealed, delivered.” With a heavy sigh, Ilena pulls away from Liam but he holds her firm, with his hands on her shoulders to keep her in front of him so that she might hear him out.
“You’re not my ‘property’, Ilena. Like I said, it’s all just a formality to protect my country. This is so much bigger than just you and I, darling.” Liam shakes his head and leans in to press his forehead to hers. “A whole nation of people rely on us as their leaders. We have to do right by them. To give them hope.”
“And in giving them hope, I must lose mine? I must not be allowed to visit my home?”
“Of course not!” Pulling back, Liam cups her face in his hands. “I’m not saying you’re not allowed to travel to America. Who am I to strip you of your citizenship? I only that you might ask me first as your husband.”
A beat passes and Liam can practically hear Ilena’s thoughts. “And what about the other clauses?” She asks, removing herself from Liam’s grasp.
“Tell me which ones are bothering you.”
She chews her lip for a second before deciding to speak though Liam knows what question comes next. “Am I really still allowed to see him?”
He throws up his palms in defeat. “I’m bound to that document as much as you are. I can’t stop you.” With a weak smile, Liam steps away and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, beckoning for Ilena to sit beside him. “I have already upheld my end of the deal. Drake is an Earl of Ramsford as of this morning, and you two can still be involved if that’s what will make you happiest.”
“No tricks or loopholes?”
“Not one.” Liam answers; the most truthful thing he’d said all day. Cordonia’s future rested on his shoulders. This heir was of utmost importance and if allowing his Queen these minor romantic freedoms helped him secure the throne for future generations, then the small sacrifice was all worth it. “I only ask that you both have discretion and don’t embarrass the crown.”
“Do you swear it?”
Placing a hand over his heart, Liam gives a solemn nod. “On my mother’s grave.”
Following a moment’s hesitance, Ilena makes the decision to join Liam on the bed. Swallowing hard, she reaches out and places her hand on top of Liam’s on the comforter.
“I’m ovulating.” She announces in a small voice. The two words an invitation for Liam, and an indication that she would too uphold her side of the deal.
***
He had been gentle and attentive; unwilling to hurt her further than he already had. Afterwards, they lay together in the sheets in a surprisingly comfortable silence, Liam running his fingers absentmindedly through Ilena’s hair while she gazes out of the window at the birds flitting through the trees.
“I should finish packing. My car leaves in an hour.” With a long yawn, Liam leans over to place a kiss on Ilena’s cheek, though she surprises him when she preempts it and turns to meet his lips with a peck. “I enjoyed this.” He nods downward, gesturing at their silhouettes beneath the sheets. “I love you, darling.”
Ilena doesn’t say much in return but Liam doesn’t need her to; grateful enough that she shared herself with him. Rising from the bed, he dresses in a fresh suit and adds a few more things to his suitcase before wishing her a final farewell and taking his leave.
***
The long drive up to Lythikos seems to pass by in a matter of minutes. Liam’s mind is elsewhere the whole journey. Along with the changing colours of the foliage from green-leafed apple trees of Southern Cordonia to Castelsareillan red maple to the snowy white evergreens of Lythikos came the feeling that today too had brought a change; the breakthrough in his marriage was ever-present in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t help but dwell on the idea that maybe he would be returning from his trip in a few days to a wife who could already be carrying his child at this very moment.
***
“Hello.”
“Hey you.” The sound of his voice soothes Ilena instantly and she squeezes her eyes closed to stop any stray tears from leaking out. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Drake answers, a little short. How could she act like nothing as amiss? “I’ve been calling you.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been sleeping all day.” Lying to Drake wasn’t something Ilena ever wanted to do, but to tell him the real reason she hadn’t been able to call the previous evening wasn’t a viable option. “I… I think I’m coming down with something.”
Melting instantly, Drake can’t do anything but forgive her. “You want me to come get you? We can leave the palace. I can take care of you.”
Inspecting the bruises on her arms, Ilena wonders if seeing Drake is a good idea. Concluding that if he were to see her in this state things could turn very sour very fast, she declines Drake’s invitation.
“Actually, Drake, I’m still not feeling great. I wouldn’t be good company. I think I probably just need to get some more rest. We can see each other soon though? Maybe Thursday?”
“Oh, right… sure.” Drake’s heart thumps in his chest. This was the first time that she had ever declined a chance to be with him, and it wasn’t even for a few hours, nor even a couple of days. She would see him maybe in three days from now.
Were the rumours from the stables true after all and things really were heating up in the royal bedroom?
“Thursday sounds great.” He tries to sound upbeat but Ilena knows it’s an act.
A beeping sound intrudes on the phonecall and Ilena’s phone vibrates in her hand, alerting her to a second caller.
“Hey, I have another call waiting. I have to go.” She sighs, hating to do this to Drake but knowing it to be necessary. “I’ll call you later, I love you.”
Maybe he was losing her.
***
On the other line was Liam calling to announce his safe arrival and wax poetic about how much he wished his beautiful wife was by his side in Lythikos. He thanks her again for their afternoon tryst and expresses his hopes that there would soon be a little prince or princess in her belly. The thought sends a wave of nausea over Ilena but she politely tolerates the conversation for as long as she is able; her thoughts fixed all the while on someone else.
She is thankful when Liam tells her he must go greet the ambassador at the reception, and upon hanging up she replays their earlier conversation in her head.
On my mother’s grave.
Ilena knew Liam to be a lot of things, but she didn’t believe for a second that he would lie in his own beloved mother’s name which means that she and Drake are truly free to continue their affair with the blessing of the King. The law of the land permits it! So why is she pushing him away? Fear? Shame? Guilt? If there was ever a time she needed Drake, that time was now.
Dialling his number from memory, Ilena nibbles at her fingernails, anxious and unsure what she wants to say. The phone rings only once before Drake answers.
“Hello?”
The words come to her as soon as she hears his voice.
“I changed my mind. Please come and get me.”
Liam may have won the fight, but the war was still anyone’s to win, and one thing Ilena knows is that, contrary to popular opinion, all is not fair in love and war.
It didn't happen to us overnight
Just 'cause it happened doesn't mean it's right
To our embarrassment we lost the fight
To rule the world with love
***
“Did you hear the noise, Thomas? Your room is close to their quarters, right?”
“I didn’t but a few of the maids said they could hear screaming and the headboard banging on the wall.” Thomas smirks. “If she wasn’t pregnant before, I’ll bet she definitely is now!”
“I can’t blame King Liam, though. I mean have you seen her?” The younger boy’s eyes light up, thinking about the Queen. “She’s gorgeous!”
“I know. I bet she has an ass to die for, too!”
The two snigger at the statement until a third man marches over to them with a handful of tools, having overhead their discussion from the other end of the yard. He addresses the younger of the two stablehands; an apprentice no older than sixteen. “Didn’t I ask you to help me change Trojan’s shoes twenty minutes ago?”
“Right… sorry, Mr Walker.”
Thomas; the elder of the two workers at twenty one pipes up. “Hey, I suppose you’d be a bit of an expert on the Queen’s ass, right, Drake?
Drake instantly bristles, fist clenching around the tool in his hand.
“I’ll be an expert on your ass in a minute when I shove this hoof knife up there if you say one more word.” He answers as deadpan as he is able and the two instantly fall silent. Drake thrusts the armful of tools at the stablehands. “Both of you. Horseshoes. Now.”
***
“Hey! This is Ilena. I must be busy right now but leave me a message and I’ll call you back soon!”
“Hey you, I missed you yesterday. I wondered if you want to go for a drive later… I heard he’s heading out of town for a few days. I want to see you. Call me soon.”
Drake hangs up and considers his options. He’d texted her a few times the previous evening and heard nothing in response which was unlike her. It didn’t help that the conversation he’d just overheard had irked him more than he’d care to admit. He wasn’t exactly under the impression that Liam and Ilena hadn’t had sex yet. Liam had told him outright that they had, and as much as Drake didn’t want to believe it he knew in his heart it was truth; albeit merely the actions of a dutiful Queen… or so he hoped, but maybe his hopes were in vain after all if their lovemaking had been so explosive that half the palace had heard it. No wonder she hadn’t had time to text him back.
Lovemaking.
The word made him want to vomit. He had made love to her more times than he could count. He’d never cared for the word, but it was what she always insisted on calling it.
“Make love to me, Drake.” She would purr while lying in the nook of his shoulder, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, and he would always oblige. Was she now doing the same thing with his best friend?
He shakes his head to rid himself of the image. Was he just clinging onto some lost dream while Ilena was moving on with her new life, too kind to let him down? He drops to sit on an upturned barrel in the back corner of the stable, emotionally exhausted by the events of the past few weeks.
His mind drifts back to the other night in his car, when she had begged him to drive them away from this place in the middle of the night. That was definitely real… or maybe it wasn’t? The doubts flood his mind like a plague.
Cracking his knuckles, Drake rubs his hands against his jeans to wipe away the mixture of saddle soap residue and anxious sweat that had accumulated on his palms. Glancing across the stable, he watches as Thomas and Jack go quietly about their work. Their earlier sniggering echoed in his mind, though he was unsure if he was offended for the sake of Ilena’s honour, or indignant because his own pride was bruised.
What hurt Drake most of all was the idea that Ilena enjoyed Liam… It was a slap in the face, and while he couldn’t expect them not to share a bed, this jealousy feels dangerous. Was it just a matter of time before something happened that would render her lost to him forever?
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Huh?” Snapping out of his daze, Drake looks up to find Thomas standing in front of him holding a set of worn old horseshoes.
“I was saying we’re done with the big guy.” He thumbs over his shoulder to Trojan, the enormous black stallion, standing proud in his pen. “Might as well take him out for a while.” Thomas offers, tossing the used horseshoes on a side table. “The King has stolen your other ride.”
“Who?”
“Lonestar. King Liam took him out for a good run this morning.” Thomas answers with a shrug though he struggles to hold in his mirth. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Drake. “Who else would I possibly have meant?”
Ilena and Drake’s past relationship had been no secret, and people had politely refrained from mentioning it following Liam and Ilena’s engagement, for which Drake was grateful, yet this obnoxious little cretin dares mock him to his face?
Rising from his seat on the bench without a word, Drake moves to the far wall and picks off the largest saddle, casually slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me know about Lonestar.” He retorts. Thomas nods and turns to go back to his work without further comment.
After a moment’s hesitation, Drake lets go of the bridle he had just selected and turns back around, nostrils flaring. “Hey...” He calls out after Thomas who stops in his tracks. “You’re fired. Get out of my stable.”
Zipping back around to face Drake, any humour has now dropped from Thomas’s face, replaced with incredulity. “Excuse me?”
“Go down to the barns and tell them I sent you to help with the cows. I don’t want to see your face back in here.” Drake calls back and by now his apprentice, Jack, has stopped to listen.
“Are you crazy? We’re already understaffed here as it is!” Thomas argues but Drake shakes his head with a finality. “Are you really going to take it out on me because she’s-...”
Throwing his armful of tack to the side, Drake lurches forward and Thomas sees this is no joke, stumbling backwards with his palms up. The embers that had long been crackling inside Drake had ignited into a full forest fire within a matter of seconds. He stops within an inch of Thomas, towering over him and through gritted teeth Drake snarls the command once more. “Get out… now...”
“This is some bullshit!” The now-dismissed stablehand scoffs, backing up to the door. “No wonder she chose him, you’re fucking crazy!” Unbuckling his toolbelt, the boy tosses it to the floor and slams the door behind him, the cacophany of noises causing a number of the horses to rear up nervously.
As quietly as he is able, Jack springs into action attempting to calm the horses, then sets about picking up the tools from the hay-strewn floor and placing them away before Drake finds another reason to erupt.
Drake’s chest heaves and he takes a moment to calm down before recollecting his saddle and stalking across the stable in silence. He slings the leather seat over Trojan’s back then returns to the tack wall to get a bridle. The teenager watches him with furtive glances as his boss readies the horse, inspecting the mane and coat, as well as the newly attached horseshoes.
When he’s finished tacking up the large steed, Drake approaches his apprentice, who shrinks on the spot.
“Good job on Trojan’s mane. That French braid is nice and neat.” His voice is gruff but he gives an approving nod to the boy. Jack looks tentative, twiddling his thumbs and it makes Drake feel a little guilty for his very unreasonable behaviour. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to do hunter braids. How about that?”
Jack nods in quiet agreement as Drake lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see that, kid.”
“It’s okay... he was out of line.” Jack answers, attempting to get on Drake’s good side. “We… we both were.”
With a deep exhale, Drake pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, if the King were to hear you talking like that about his wife, you would be in a whole lot of trouble. You understand what I mean, don’t you? Constantine had people tried for treason for less.”
“Yes, but I…” Jack fumbles for words, clearly fearful of getting into trouble. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know. I’m just warning you.” Exhaling heavily, Drake looks to a side. “It’s not good to forget where we are. Who we are. People like us are expendable to the royal family. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” Jack nods, sensing that they were talking about something much deeper.
Drake pats his apprentice on the shoulder. “Take the day off. I can manage here. And stay out of trouble.”
“Thank you, Mr Walker.”
***
I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me.
Alone in the stable, Drake hoists himself upwards, swinging his leg over Trojan’s back and settling into the saddle. He edges the magnificent horse forwards and out of the stable though they don’t get far before his temper finds reason to bubble again.
“Good morning, friend!”
The perfectly poised form of the King seated astride Drake’s own horse comes into view.
“Is it?” Drake nudges Trojan in an attempt to pass by.
“Indeed it is!” Liam rears up, pulling Lonestar to trot gracefully alongside Drake’s own mount. “Might I join you?”
“Actually, Liam, I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t feel much like company.”
“Then I shall try not to be too much of an imposition.” Liam chuckles. Drake’s jaw clenches tightly, his internal fire burning hotter again by the minute.
“I thought you were leaving town today.”
“You thought correct.” Liam confirms. “I leave this evening, and get back in a day or two.”
Unable to muster any sort of polite response, Drake simply nods.
“Ilena will stay here.” Liam continues in a failed attempt to goad Drake into conversation. “She wanted to join me in Lythikos, but I suggested she stay here. I thought she might enjoy the downtime.”
Had she really wanted to travel with Liam? Was this why she hadn’t answered his messages?
Continuing onward, Drake tries in vain to ignore his internal monologue, the rage in the pit of his stomach and his friend’s irritant presence. They make it a mile, riding in complete silence before Liam eventually clears his throat. “I was actually hoping to talk to you… on friendly terms.”
Drake tightens his reins, pulling Trojan round to block the path of Liam and Lonestar, preventing them from moving forward.
“What could we possibly have to talk about anymore?” He growls. “How about you taking my horse out this morning without permission?”
“I don’t need permission.” Liam’s retort is quick. “Your horse resides in my stable, in my palace, in my kingdom. I can take any of those horses out.”
“You have horses of your own! Regent is yours and you never take him out.” There’s a clear subtext to Drake’s argument which Liam doesn’t fail to note.
“What’s the problem! I ride them out in the morning, and bring them back to you afterwards to take out in the afternoon, just as we always have.”
“Well I don’t want to do it that way anymore. You’re not to take Lonestar again.”
Liam takes a moment to contemplate before nodding in agreement. “Alright, I shall take Regent out tomorrow, and maybe you could consider housing your horses at your own grounds at Ramsford from now on to avoid confusion.”
“Ramsford?”
Pulling an envelope from the inside pocket of his riding jacket, Liam hands it across. “Let’s not pussyfoot around the issue, Drake. We’re not just talking about horses, are we?” The King shrugs. “You know the laws of the land. Don’t act dumb.”
With a furrowed brow, Drake slips a thumb under the flap of the envelope and eases it open, retrieving a stack of papers.
“Is this some sort of pay-off?”
“An earldom is standard procedure for someone in your position.” Liam explains, a smile plastered across his face. “I thought Ramsford seemed the most well-suited; close enough to the palace, sufficient grounds for your rustic tastes, and a tie to the Beaumonts, without whom we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
With a scoff, Drake slumps back in his saddle as Trojan paws at the ground impatiently, causing Lonestar to back up a few steps. “I don’t want anything from you, Liam.”
“It was Ilena’s idea. It’s already a done deal.” Liam gestures for Drake to unfurl the second document; a copy of the signed post-nuptial agreement.
A sense of unease washes over Drake. Skimming through the papers, his eye is drawn to a clause obliging her to bear children within a matter of months, signed at the bottom in cursive; Ilena Esther Rhys.
A sickness rises in his stomach and he thrusts the contract back at Liam. “She… she actually signed this thing?” He stammers, his temper faltering and giving way to anguish.
“She thought it would be for your benefit to do so.” Liam lies. “I thought you’d be pleased. It’s a great step for you. For all of us, really. Being able to still see you is important to Ilena, and of course you understand what is important to me is the future stability of the country.”
A lump rises in Drake’s throat and he studies her signature at the bottom of the document again. Had she really agreed such a thing?
“Look, it isn’t so bad.” Liam cuts in. “This doesn’t require anything of you, it’s just a title. The house will still be upheld by Bertrand and Maxwell, you’ll simply enjoy the perks of nobility. At least think on it. It’s what she wants.” Liam encourages with a reassuring tone. “This isn’t the first choice situation for any of us, so we may as well each benefit however we can.”
Flustered, Drake doesn’t know how to respond, though with a flourish Liam flicks the reins of the horse and turns, saving him the trouble of replying. “We can discuss it further when I get back, but I need to go and pack for my trip. I’m sorry for taking your horse. It won’t happen again.”
Bidding his farewell, Liam turns and canters off in the direction of the palace, leaving Drake alone with the news of his social climb and Ilena’s impending duties.
Despite the pleasantly warm temperature, Drake’s body is now covered with a sheen of cold sweat. He waits for Liam to ride out of sight before dismounting and pulling out his phone. With one hand he dials Ilena’s number and holds the phone to his ear, and with the other he clutches the deeds Liam had just gifted him.
With each ring of the telephone, the lump in Drake’s throat grows larger, and his fist curls so tightly around the phone that it might buckle under the pressure.
Pick up the damn phone!
“Hey! This is Ilena. I must be busy right now but leave me a message and I’ll call you back soon!”
Word count: ~ 6,700 (I did it because I love you!)
Notes: This bitch is back after her big event, and I brought you a lot of words to make up from my absence, thanks for waiting for me ♥️
WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!
Between broken glass
Thank you for the grave, I needed me a place to sleep…
But have a WIP preview (also formatting is screwed because tumblr mobile SUCKS);
The route to the wine cellar was one Drake could navigate with his eyes closed, or at the very least in the dark. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have spirits of his own in his suite, but the quietness of the wine cellar at the witching hour, buried deep underneath the palace was soothing to him, and so his nightly passage to collect his amber nightcap had become something of a solo tradition, tonight being no exception.
Being careful to walk only on the ancient rugs running down the center of the wooden floors, the steady thud of his leather boots is easily muffled. He had perfected the excursion over the years to the point that every single footstep was choreographed. All 672 of them. Not that he had counted...
Firstly, I want to open with an apology because I suck. I used to write consistently, however unfortunately due to work that’s now really not possible. I try and write as often as I can but that’s not always easy and so my series The Flag is updated so sporadically that it’s hardly worth me writing any more. I am aware that due to the terrible update schedule, no one reads the series anymore and I honestly can’t blame anyone for that. I wouldn’t read something so sporadic either.
But, I love the series and as difficult as it is, I do want to continue with it, even if the only person that ever reads it is me while I’m editing it.
If there are any of you that still read it (thank you, I love you), I wanted to drop this little sneak peek to show you that I am working on it... albeit very slowly!
SNEAK PEEK BELOW
“Did you hear it? Your room is close to their quarters, right?”
“I didn’t but a few of the night maids said they could hear screaming and the headboard banging on the wall.” The young man smirks. “If she wasn’t pregnant before, I’ll bet she is now!”
“Can you blame King Liam though? I mean have you seen her? She’s so hot.”
“I know. I bet she has an ass to die for!”
The two men snigger at the statement until a third man joins them with a handful of tools, having overhead their discussion from the other end of the yard. He addresses the younger of the two stablehands. “Didn’t I ask you to help me change Trojan’s shoes twenty minutes ago?”
“Right… sorry, Mr Walker.”
The elder man pipes up. “Hey, I suppose you’d be a bit of an expert on the Queen’s ass, right Drake?
Drake instantly bristles, fist clenching around the tool in his hand.
“I’ll be an expert on your ass in a minute when I shove this hoof knife up there if you say one more word about her.” He answers as deadpan as he is able and the two men instantly fall silent. Drake thrusts the armful of tools at the stablehands. “Both of you. Horseshoes. Now.”
They were somewhere high over the Pacific Ocean in the early hours of the morning. The lights on the aircraft were dimmed and everyone else was asleep. Except Drake… and evidently Ilena, who had crept up to his seat with a blanket, a bottle and two disposable cups.
“Can I sit with you?” She asks quietly and Drake eyes up the pedigree of the bottle in her hands before reluctantly agreeing.
“I guess so.”
She drops down into the seat beside Drake and hands him a cup; pouring the amber liquid into it with all the skill of a professional bartender. Of course, that’s what she was. Drake found it easy to forget that sometimes with how easily she had slipped into courtly life in just two short weeks since she had arrived.
Lifting the cup to his lips, Drake drinks quickly. Ilena drinks faster.
“Wanna play with me?” Her quiet voice breaks the silence between them as she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.
2087
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