When it’s over, I step out, my body so sore Matheas has to help me to the bathtub. Placing my body in it, I let the healing liquids in the water and the pain relief injection work away my remaining aches. Laying my head back, I relax, closing my eyes. The lightest touch of lips brush mine. Opening my eyes, I see Matheas staring at me with a mixture of concern and adoration.
“That trial pushed you to your limits.”
“I’m afraid of what the Fire and Water trial will require me to do. It’s only a few hours from now.”
“After seeing you today, I believe you’ll pass whatever it is. You didn’t let pain or fear stop you from reaching your goal. The other trials were mere games. Today, you showed your real strength. You will again tonight.”
Touching his hand, I slide my fingers under his, holding them tight.
“Seeing you at the end, it helped me get there. I love you.”
Touching my cheek, he caresses it with his thumb.
“And I you. Tonight, I’ll take my time showing you that love.”
“Will you show me some of it now?”
“Without question.”
Rolling his sleeve up, he reaches below the water, finding my center. Mouth to mouth, he increases my arousal as his fingers massage my clit, easing away the last of my pain.
A knock outside the healing chamber door withdraws his hand from me. With a wink, he dries his arm on my nearby towel and lowers his sleeve. Leaving my side, he answers the door. My father’s voice distantly carries into the chamber.
“Is she all right?”
“She is. Completely healed. She’s soaking in the healing tub.”
My father lets out the breath he was holding.
“That trial was violent. Too violent,” he complains.
“Don’t let House Cindora know you feel that way.”
“I wouldn’t, son. As a King, I know better than to do such things. Our House can’t be seen as weak. I’ll see you both at the lunch tent. I wanted to ensure she’s well.”
“See you there soon, Your Highness.”
Returning to me, Matheas gathers a towel as I’m stepping out of the tub. With a drop of his gaze, he admires my naked body. Kissing my cheek, he hugs the soft towel around me, warming me with his own body.
“Only one more and the trials are over.”
“Thankfully.”
Putting my head to his, I rest comfortably in the safety and protection of his arms.
With a strapless gold dress falling to my feet, I gather the fabric in my hand as I step into the tent. By the time the fabric touches the ground, I’m surrounded by the Royal families.
“That will be a trial spoken about for years to come,” Luther says aloud, pulling me away from the crowd. Putting hands on both sides of my shoulders, he rubs them. “House Cindora is beyond honored you completed our trial with such skill and fervor.”
“Thank you for such a challenging trial. It was my honor to complete it,” I reply humbly.
Looping his hand through my arm, he stands next to me proudly. His mother, as tall and as fair-haired as him, steps forward, handing us both a glass of wine.
“To Fiora,” Luther starts. “A Princess as radiant as a precious stone. As fearless as a warrior. Who delights with her talents and charms with her character. You’re a woman worthy of love and respect. The kind I would be blessed to give…if you choose me.”
Ending his speech, he presses his soft lips to my cheek.
Behind us, a gathered group of onlookers burst out in applause and cheers. In front of us, the Royal families have expressions filled with mixed emotions, the gazes of the other suitors shooting daggers in Luther’s direction.
“To Fiora and Luther!” Luther’s father says to the crowd.
Behind a glass of wine, my father’s humored smile tilts his mouth. Everyone takes a drink, and beyond my glass, I seek out Matheas. He’s standing to the right of the crowd, by the entrance where he can see threats from both sides. His eyes are not on us though but something behind me. When his back straightens and his eyes narrow, I glance over my shoulder to see what is causing him tension.
Belore’s deadly gaze at my back crawls across my skin, alerting my senses to his looming presence. Entering the tent, he boldly steps up to me. Taking my hand, he kisses the top of it. The way his emerald eyes undress me churns nausea in my stomach.
“Princess,” the word rolls off his tongue like a snake’s, eerily slipping from