Torrid Throne

by Julie Johnson

  I barely have to nudge her with my heels before she vaults into motion, her powerful hooves kicking up the snowy ground with each stride. Air rushes into my face, colder than ice as it fills my lungs. The sky turns to a smear of color around us.

  I know I should slow down, that Hans would likely disapprove of this wild, undisciplined charge when I’ve barely mastered a steady canter, but I can’t bring myself to pull Ginger back. I can feel the elation in her every hoofbeat.

  She needs this as much as I do.

  We gallop headlong across the field, heedless of the rest of the world. The ribbon is snatched from my hair. I feel my curls streaming out behind me like a flag, whipping into a tangled brown curtain. Wind stings my eyes until they’re watering, but even tears can’t stop the jubilant smile from spreading across my face.

  This, right here, is what freedom tastes like.

  “Faster, girl!” A laugh tears from my throat. “Faster!”

  I let out a whoop of pure joy as we fly toward the castle. I’m so caught up in the rush of adrenaline, I don’t even notice the two men standing in the driveway… or their rapt stares, locked on the crazy girl riding her horse across the grounds at top speed, chased distantly by a set of disgruntled guards.

  When we run out of field, Ginger slows her pace from a gallop to a canter as we cross over onto the circular driveway, passing a series of empty fountains and ice-bound topiary. The royal stables are located off the West Wing; I glance up to locate the side path that will lead us there and instead spot two tall male figures by the front steps, directly in my path.

  My stomach somersaults.

  They’re standing beside a black SUV, watching me intently. With their faces cast in shadow, I can’t quite make out their features from this distance. I squint as the stretch between us narrows with each passing second.

  Thirty yards.

  Twenty.

  Ten.

  The shadowed figures finally come into focus and I feel my heart lurch. I consider pulling the reins sharply to the left, making a mad dash for the stables to avoid them completely, but it’s too late. We’re already upon them.

  “Whoa!” I call, pulling Ginger up short with a shower of gravel. I stroke her lathered neck, cooing softly beneath my breath as I suck in greedy gulps of air. “Good girl,” I murmur, trying not to panic as my head lifts toward the onlookers.

  Both men are still standing beside the car, staring at me. They’re incredibly handsome in the twilight, albeit in completely different ways.

  There’s Alden, grinning up at me with his perfectly parted platinum hair, not a strand out of place. His hazel eyes hold nothing but warmth. He’s like a human ball of light.

  Then, three feet and a whole universe away, there’s Carter — those incredible blue eyes narrowed in an unmistakable glare, that messy black hair falling across his furrowed brow. His disposition is darker than the ebony dye of his winter jacket.

  My throat constricts as I take them in.

  Light and dark.

  Sun and shadow.

  Suitor and stepbrother.

  “I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow,” I say dumbly, still sitting astride Ginger. My eyes are locked on Carter’s and I can’t seem to look away, even though he’s scowling at me. I think about the horrible things I said the last time I saw him and have to grip the reins tightly to keep from falling off my horse.

  “There’s a blizzard in the forecast,” Alden informs me, his voice upbeat. “We decided to come back early.”

  “Oh.” I swallow hard, hoping it’ll clear the lump in my throat. “That’s too bad.”

  “Is it? Come on, Emilia — aren’t you even a little happy to see us?” Alden asks, drawing my eyes back to him. “And by us I mostly mean me,” he adds with a playful wink.

  “Sure,” I lie, wishing I sounded more convincing.

  “Oof!” Alden staggers back, a hand thrown over his heart in a dramatic show. “How she wounds me with her indifference!”

  Carter laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound. He mutters something snide under his breath but I can’t make out any of the words.

  “Excuse me?” My eyes narrow. “Did you say something?”

  “Not at all, Princess.”

  “Funny. I could’ve sworn I heard my name.”

  Carter’s lush lips are twisted in a smirk. “Trust me, when I say your name, you’ll know it.”

  A bolt of undeniable lust zings through my bloodstream. That look in his eyes…

  Pure heat.

  Pure hate.

  It’s enough to make my thighs clench together. Enough to make me forget we have an audience.

  Alden’s laugh jolts me back to reality. “Oh, listen to you two! Fighting like siblings already.”

  At that, Carter’s face shutters of all emotion. Dropping my eyes, I shift in my saddle, feeling unbelievably uncomfortable. “Well, I guess I should be getting Ginger back to the stables. It’ll be dark soon and I still have to muck out her stall—”

  “Nonsense! A groom can do that.” Alden’s voice is insistent. Snapping his fingers at one of the servants unpacking the car, he rattles off an order. I don’t hear what he says, but the boy takes off like a shot, running headlong tower the stables.

  My nose wrinkles in distaste. “Really, that wasn’t necessary—”

  Alden waves away my words of protest. The epitome of a gentleman, he strides forward and grabs Ginger’s bridle with one hand before offering the other up to me.

  “Milady,” he says in a faux-formal tone, his grin teasing. “May I be of assistance?”

  I hear what sounds like a snort from Carter’s general direction, but I don’t dare glance at him. Not seeing a way out of it, I place my gloved hand inside Alden’s and allow him to help me dismount. The gravel crunches beneath my boots as I hit the earth.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, staring into Alden’s hazel eyes. He still hasn’t relinquished my hand. I try to pull it free, but he’s holding fast.

  “My pleasure, Your Highness.”

  “Just Emilia. Please.”

  His mega-watt smile is so bright, I worry I’ll get a sunburn just being this close to him. “Very well. Princess Emilia, then. Better?”

  “Marginally.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me you ride?” He passes off my horse’s reins to the groom who’s just materialized at his side. I try to catch the boy’s eyes, but the he disappears with Ginger before I even have a chance to thank him.

  “Princess?”

  “Hmm?” I glance back at Alden, belatedly remembering he’s asked me a question. “Oh! I don’t really ride.”

  His brows lift. “Could’ve fooled me. Was that not you we just saw galloping across the field?”

  “It’s a new hobby. I’m still mastering the basics.”

  “Well, you’re a natural. We’ll have to go riding together sometime.” His eyes gleam. “You know, Westgate has some amazing trails.”

  “I was there just this afternoon, actually. Your mother hosted a tea.”

  “Ah, yes, of course. Ava mentioned that.” His eyes flash with something that looks like worry. “I do hope she made you feel welcome. I must admit, I was hoping I’d be the one to give you the tour of our estate. It’s…” He actually blushes. “It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at my home.”

  I force a laugh, but it sounds thin even to my own ears. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. I dart a glance at Carter and find him glowering at the two of us. Specifically, at my hand, still clenched tightly inside Alden’s. He looks like he wants to break it.

  Shit.

  A shiver moves through me.

  “I’m so sorry — listen to me, prattling on like an idiot when you must be freezing,” Alden murmurs, misinterpreting my chills. “Let’s get you inside. We’ll sit by the fire, warm you up. Maybe have some hot chocolate and talk for a while.”

  “Oh, that sounds lovely, but—”

  He cuts me off. “It’s been far too
long since I’ve seen you, Princess Emilia. And you…” His gaze goes as soft as his tone. “You are certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

  I can feel Carter’s glare burning a hole in the back of my head. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I chew my bottom lip and try to think of a polite excuse. “Much as I appreciate the chivalry, Alden, it’s been a very long day and I’m tired. I don’t think I’d be good company.”

  “Ah. Then, much as it pains me to leave you… I’ll bid you adieu.” Winking cheekily, he lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of my glove. With a final squeeze and a lingering stare, he releases me. I’m frozen in place as he strides back to the SUV and extends a hand out to Carter.

  “Thorne. Great trip, man.”

  Carter nods stiffly, not returning the handshake. His jaw is clenched so tight, I’m surprised he can get the words out. “Thanks for driving.”

  Alden lowers his hand. The men face off for a terse minute, neither saying a word, and the air grows so thick with tension I think my knees might give out under the strain.

  After what feels like an eternity, they finally break eye contact. Alden turns toward the SUV, shooting me one last look before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

  “Always a pleasure to see you, Princess Emilia.”

  “Bye, Alden.”

  “Don’t forget… I’ll be cashing in on your promise of that ride.” He smirks. “Soon.”

  His door closes with a bang that makes me flinch. The tires crunch over the gravel as he steers down the long driveway, toward the distant castle gates. I watch until the SUV is no more than a black speck before I dare glance back at the man standing ten feet to my left.

  Our gazes tangle instantly — green and blue clashing like swords on a battlefield. The breath catches in my throat as I hold his stare. His face is carefully empty of emotion, but I can see the rage swimming in his eyes.

  “Don’t,” I say softly. Preemptively.

  His mouth twists with dark amusement.

  “Stop,” I whisper — half plea, half prayer.

  “And what is it I should stop, Princess?” The question is lethally soft; the first faint drop of rain before the hurricane makes landfall. “Stop looking at you? Stop talking to you? Stop being around you?”

  My mouth opens to retort, but I find I can’t get a single word out.

  “Or maybe you’d like me to disappear from your life completely,” he says lowly, taking a step in my direction, closing some of the space between us. “Is that it, Emilia?”

  I inhale sharply as he takes another treacherous step. We’re only a handful of feet apart, now.

  “Wouldn’t it be more convenient for you if I stopped existing altogether? Isn’t that what you implied when I last saw you?”

  “N- no,” I stammer, barely breathing. “That’s not— I just—”

  My words trail off, utterly useless. There’s no use speaking anyway — not when we’re having a whole conversation with our eyes.

  What do you want from me, Princess?

  Nothing.

  You’re a liar.

  Stop.

  I can’t stop. And neither can you.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Keep telling yourself that, princess.

  The small scar bisecting his eyebrow is clearly defined in the cold evening light. It’s almost fully dark, now. The lights of the castle are spilling out the windows into the driveway, illuminating us both in silhouette.

  “Please,” I say, but I’m not sure what I’m begging for anymore. “Please… don’t make this harder, Carter. We said everything we needed to say the other night.”

  “Bullshit,” he barks. “You ran off before I could say a damn thing.”

  I suck in a breath, trying to remain composed. “Just let this go. No good will come of rehashing it over and over.”

  “Is that so?”

  Like a hunter sensing weakness, he prowls even closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Close to feel the warmth of his breath on my face as he looms over me, his tall frame filling my whole visual field.

  Close enough to drive me crazy.

  I should step back.

  Turn away.

  Walk inside.

  But he’s looking down at me like he’s drowning and I’m the air he needs to breathe. And I’m looking up at him like… like…

  Like he’s every star in the night sky, guiding me through the dark.

  I told myself the next time I saw him, I wouldn’t fall back into this trap. I told myself I’d be stronger than this.

  Move, Emilia.

  Start walking.

  But I don’t. I’m frozen, stock-still. My tongue darts out to wet my chafed lips, a nervous habit. His gaze tracks the motion, an expert predator stalking his prey with laser sharp focus.

  “Go ahead, Emilia,” Carter whispers, leaning down until his lips are mere inches from mine. “Tell me again that you don’t want me. Tell me again that I should stop fighting for this.”

  I don’t.

  I can’t.

  My hands curl into fists by my sides to keep them from winding behind his neck, sliding into his hair, crushing his mouth onto mine. I hate that he hasn’t even touched me, but I can feel him in every fiber of my body. I hate that every atom of my soul is singing out for him. And I hate that despite everything that happened, despite all the harsh words we traded on top of that turret… I keep wishing he’d throw all caution to the wind and close that final sliver of space between our faces in a heart-stopping kiss.

  “Emilia…”

  He leans in, just the tiniest shift, and for a split second I actually think I’m going to get my wish. But his mouth doesn’t claim mine; it curls into a cruel smirk instead. When he speaks, his whisper is almost violent, splitting the dark like a lightning strike.

  “For the rest of your life, whether its next week or next month or next year, when you’re out on a date with a proper gentleman like Alden who flatters you with perfect, pretty lines and kisses you with all the passion of a yawn… I want you to remember what you felt right here, in this moment, without me even touching you. All that passion and need storming inside, begging for a release… All that desire, pleading for an outlet… For my hands in your hair and my teeth on your neck and my cock buried so deep inside you, that line between pleasure and pain turns hazy…”

  Sweet. Christ.

  My thighs clench together as a bolt of lust moves through me. I can barely see straight. All my carefully drawn boundaries go up in smoke as a primal, undeniable need hijacks my senses.

  Take me.

  I’m yours for the taking.

  I’m just…

  Yours.

  I want him to be brutal, to claim me with a violent lust that will sate the ache deep in my veins. But when he finally closes that last sliver of space, his mouth brushes mine ever so lightly — the mere ghost of a kiss.

  It’s not enough. Not nearly.

  Before I can blink, he’s pulling back again. My moan of displeasure is quickly swallowed up by his low growl.

  “I want you to remember this feeling, Emilia. Because that’s all you’re going to have to live on. A memory.” He steps back, eyes burning into mine with lust and loathing. “I hope it fucking haunts you.”

  He turns and walks away before I have time to respond — not that I could find the words, even if I tried. I stand alone in the dark, cold down to my bones from more than just the chilly November air.

  My heart races double-speed.

  My breaths are choppy pants.

  My lips still tingle from an almost-kiss.

  I hope it fucking haunts you.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there in the dark. Long enough for my fingers to go numb inside my gloves, for my feet to start aching inside my boots, for the tip of my nose to turn red with cold.

  I don’t feel any of it.

  I don’t feel anything at all.

  Eventua
lly, Riggs and Galizia force me to go inside. They walk me to my rooms in silence, exchanging worried glances until I shut the door in their faces. I lock it behind me and fall into bed, lacking the energy to do more than strip off my riding boots. The silence is so crushing, I have to put on music to drown it out.

  As the lyrics of ‘The Night We Met’ by Lord Huron drift down from my speakers, I feel tears gather in the corner of my eyes and know it will be a long, long time before I finally manage to fall asleep.

  Just as I know, when I wake in tangled sheets in the wee hours of the night, nightmares fresh in my mind, throat raw from my screams… I’ll be alone in my room, with no strong arms to hold me or words of comfort to drive away the dark.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A knock wakes me from a fitful sleep.

  I sit up in bed, squinting at the harsh morning light streaming through my terrace windows. My gaze is drawn to the door by the soft rasp of an envelope being slid underneath it.

  Sighing, I shove off my duvet and stretch my arms over my head as I make my way across the room. I recognize Simms’ boring blue stationary before I’ve read a single word of his message.

  * * *

  Your Royal Highness,

  Your presence is requested this afternoon for an award ceremony, as your father is unable to attend.

  You’ll be presenting a group of Vasgaardian firefighters with the National Medal of Valor for their bravery while battling the inferno in the East Wing last month.

  There will be a short ceremony to thank them for their service in front of their fellow firefighters, close friends, and family members.

  The limousine will be waiting downstairs to take you to the station at eleven forty-five sharp.

  Gerald Simms

  Palace Press Secretary

  * * *

  As always, he signed off with a flourish of ink beneath his name and position. I’m not sure why he bothers with such formality — I see the man practically every day, for god’s sake. But Simms isn’t the type to ever loosen up on protocol.

  I glance at my phone to check the time and see two missed calls from an unlisted number on the screen. Normally, that might make me take pause — only a handful of people in the world know my private line — but when I see it’s already past ten, I toss down the phone and jolt into motion.