path, different ending, right?
It wasn’t like a separation had to be forever. After I won the war with the phantom—I had to win—I could seek out Saxon again. If he was free...
As I sat up, he leaned back. I drew my knees to my chest, and snaked my arms around my legs. Without Saxon’s body heat, the cool air quickly chilled my damp skin, and I shivered.
“You’re a good prince, Saxon, but you’ll be an even better king.” I had some thinking to do. I needed to decipher the rest of the fairy tale—was I missing a clue about how to end the stepmother’s reign?
“Yes,” I finally told my avian, my tone determined. “Let’s return me to the palace.”
20
Merry, merry, be one, be all.
Soon enough there will be a fall.
SAXON
After we dressed in our clean, dry clothes, I whistled to summon the dragons from the woods. They joined us and followed us into the air. I kept Ashleigh in the safety of my arms.
I would never tire of holding her. My fated.
My mind shied away from the thought, the implications too vast to explore at the moment. Not ready to go there.
Usually the princess relaxed against me. This time, she remained quiet, lost in thought. Did she ponder our kiss?
I did. I couldn’t get my first taste of her out of my mind. So different from Leonora. The witch kissed like she wanted only to please me. Ashleigh kissed like she wanted to please herself, and my enjoyment was secondary, and I loved it. It meant she’d lost herself in the throes and acted solely on instinct—getting her body what it needed.
I remembered the little mewls of delight she’d uttered, the sweetness of her lips, the rightness of her scent as it teased and tantalized, and I groaned. Our kiss had teemed with possessiveness and ferocity, unlike anything I’d experienced before. I’d felt as if I was drinking pure, undiluted lust straight from the tap, and nothing less would ever satisfy me again. I’d been consumed by Ashleigh, and happier for it.
When she’d touched my wings of her own volition, I’d nearly burst into flames, my insides nothing but kindling. Frantic need had owned me; I would have eagerly burned. My entire world had suddenly revolved around Ashleigh Charmaine-Anskelisa. True contentment had sparked, making a mockery of everything I’d felt before.
As the heat inside me had worsened, I’d felt the first sting of amour.
Still not ready.
So what had happened there at the end? What had turned her eyes into wounds, making me long to rip out my aching heart and offer it to her?
We reached the stable, and I was pleased to find Everly and Ophelia had created the gateways as requested. Framed like a full-length mirror anchored to the air, the bridge between two separate locations possessed a jellied center that rippled like water.
Ashleigh could return to the palace, as planned, and I could meet with Roth and Everly, as needed. The dragons could play without fear of the unknown. Problem was, I wasn’t yet ready to part with my princess. In three lifetimes of pain and misery, she’d given me a glimpse of true peace, and I only craved more.
How could I let her go, even for a moment?
Ever?
She crouched before the dragons, saying, “I must return to the palace, my darlings, but I’d like you to remain at the stable. This is for your safety. The doorway is a no-no unless you’re in danger. Do you understand?”
Pagan caught a fly with her tongue. Pyre licked Ashleigh’s cheek.
She was the kind of mother I’d always wished I’d had.
“I love you so much.” Teary-eyed, she kissed and hugged both dragons, then approached me. Unwilling to meet my gaze, she toyed with the collar of my tunic. “Thank you. For everything.”
I experienced one of those pangs only she could conjure. “You owe me no thanks, Asha. Today was a reward for me, as well.”
She opened and closed her mouth, eyes glowing with concern, then resolve. “Saxon?”
Concerned myself, I said, “Tell me.” Whatever bothered her, I would fix.
“I had fun with you today. The most fun I’ve had in...ever.”
I began to relax.
“But we can’t kiss again,” she finished.
Denial exploded inside my head. Addict me, then take away my drug of choice? “Why?”
“You’re part of the tournament, vying for Princess Dior’s hand in marriage.” She stumbled back a step, then another. “It’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to me. Or to you.”
Before I had time to reply—what could I