The magic around her was from three people—Adrianna, Ileus and Rolfe. This was in and around the dungeon. But Anastasia's magic surrounded theirs outside the dungeon until the walls of the fortress. She was slowly, bit by bit, tearing their magic. It took her a week to get out of the hook in which Ileus had hung her. The moment she was on the floor, she had vomited, her head was pounding with a terrible ache and she vouched that she would find him and slice him to pieces after killing his wife. The two had helped her foolish son to usurp the throne. Siora ate the roots of the trees that had entered in the crevices of the cell and sometimes even dug the moss out. Slowly, she started cutting through the magic. She would free herself even if it took months.
—
The Kralj palace was surrounded by several rolling hills that were now teeming with life with patches of snow everywhere. With every step closer to the hills where they were supposed to celebrate, the isolation weighed on Ileus. He stayed close to Anastasia, his finger itching to touch her. He was alternately disgusted by his crazy lust and arousal for her. The idea of claiming her right there on the hills clawed him on the inside. He felt like he would shift out of anger if his mate denied him even for one more minute. He pushed his beast down. He hadn't felt this conflicted in his life. Why the hell wasn't she talking to him? She was the one at fault. He had thought that once he would reach Vilinski, she would throw her arms open for him and cry for him, but none of that happened. The girl was oblivious to his turmoil, currently gazing in distance at the maypoles and ribbons and a battalion of dancers and fire eaters and servants.
He tried to focus on the scenery in front of him, on the music rising from the bone drums and lutes, on the beauty of this place, on the clouds that lazily drifted in the blue sky and waterfalls, the noise of which reached his ears. Vilinski was breathtaking.
His brows drew tight when Anastasia leaned over to talk to a young soldier near General Yion, pointing to something. Jealousy flared. He lunged forward and stepped in between them. He snatched the upper arm of the soldier and yanked him away from his wife. "That's your princess, soldier!" Never had he been so jealous of a soldier. Now he felt that he was getting jealous for entire Silver Vales and Draoidh. He growled. "Maintain your distance!"
Everyone in the group felt a little awkward, except his wife on whose lips a smile was playing. Yeah… she loved the game even as her cheeks colored. She was about to lift her hand to her braid when she caught it so tightly that she smirked even though it felt like it would break her bones.
His wife was looking so beautiful, and worse—he could scent her slight arousal. He was barely able to focus on the path ahead or in the room earlier. Anastasia was taking over him both mentally and physically. His body shuddered at the thought that he wanted to pick up his wife and run away to a location away from everyone. And this despite promising himself that he wouldn't talk to her first. His gaze went to their joined hands. Well, at least he wasn't talking to her. The promise was intact. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her and press her hard to his body with every little iota of will that was left in him. 'Don't give up, Ileus, don't,' he chastised himself. 'She will come to you.'
They crested the hill where the celebrations kick-started. The soldiers had all gathered over there. The king and queen had offered prayers to the deities under a canopy of yellow flowers. The king was taken to the drums that were lined beside the canopy. He beat them with fervor to declare the festival open. Musicians took over and the place was filled with mesmerizing beats.
It was just morning. As soon as the festival started, the royals were escorted to a tent where they met the councilmen.
While Ileus was talking to them, suddenly he noticed his wife's absence. Panicked, he ran his eyes to the left and then right, but she was nowhere. He stabbed his fingers in his hair as his chest tightened. The music was so loud that he couldn't hear her. He gritted his teeth and then excused himself. There were hundreds of denizens milling around. The excitement was infectious. And amongst their smells, her scent was lost. Dread gripped his chest as he swiveled his head in every direction, hoping to get one hint of his mate. He followed every cluster of dance groups and girls who weaved ribbons around the maypoles through the traditional fae dance. They all bowed to their prince and then got back with their celebrations.
He had crossed two hills by the time he reached a cluster of musicians and dancers who were swaying to the beats of the drums. And there she was—right in the center, dancing and twirling her flowing gown and looking radiant as the hair from her braid fell loose, as the pearls in her hair shone. Ileus stopped in his tracks. She was glowing, she was sweating, even as the cool air blew around them. He walked to her like Icarus to the sun. He held her by her upper arm. The musicians stopped playing. The dancers stopped dancing. She looked ethereal and he wanted to kiss her in front of all of them to show who this beautiful and gorgeous woman belonged to.
Anastasia gave him a seductive smile and then she looked at the musicians, who started playing again. She began dancing. Other dancers joined hands, locked their elbows with him as they moved around her in circles while she swirled and twirled. She giggled and laughed and let herself free. The dance came to her naturally. She looked wonderful, her wings bristling, her golden hair flowing and her sapphire eyes glancing at him every now and then.
However, it was not long before Ileus gave up. He just had to be with her and so he unlocked his elbows from the dancers and walked to the center. Anastasia stopped when he stopped her and locked her in his left arm. She craned her neck to look at his face and her eyes landed on his lips. "Welcome," she whispered. And that was it. The next moment she found herself in his arms. Her husband was stealing her away from the festival for himself. She clutched his neck as she bit her lip and stared in those golden eyes that were full of lust. Gods, she craved him.
His promise that he wouldn't speak with her first was honored. "You temptress," he breathed out as he carried her to yet another hill and another. He wanted a place just for themselves. And he found just the perfect one, near a gentle waterfall that was teeming with life and birds and red blossoms, ones that were quite like they saw in the Vergine falls.
