Andrew rubbed his face with both hands. He was enjoying this too much; she could see it in the twitch of his mouth, the gleam in his eyes.
"Gods above, this is exciting," he muttered, huffing like a man about to gamble his last coin. Then he leaned in, conspiratorial. "Don't give her a chance to change her mind. Go about your day as if nothing is different. Then you take her to the garden. Roses, always roses. A little food, nothing heavy. Then wine. And after the wine…"
He dragged out the pause, eyes sparkling with mischief
Rea's stomach twisted. She already knew where this was going.
"…you start kissing her. Talking her sweet. When she starts trembling...her body begging for more" his grin widened, far too pleased with himself. "That's when you ask."
Rea stared at him, uncomfortable heat crawling up the back of her neck. He looked too excited, too invested. "Why did his eyes gleam when he spoke of Annabella? Why did his tone grow hoarse, almost hungry?" she thought
Rea leaned forward, her knuckles white against the table. It sounded simple when he said it. But with Annabella? Nothing was simple.
Andrew leaned back in his chair, smirking, as if he hadn't just bared something ugly. He tapped the rim of his goblet with one thick finger. "There. I've told you. Take it or leave it."
She muttered, almost to herself, "Solid advice… even if it reeks."
Lyz burst through the dining room doors so fast the hinges screamed, breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes burning with that sharp, familiar hatred she reserved exclusively for Rea.
"My lord!" she gasped, nearly tripping over her own urgency. "You should come and see this."
Andrew blinked, annoyed at being interrupted mid-conversation, but the moment he saw Lyz's expression—tight, trembling, on the verge of feverish—his chair scraped back at once.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"You'll understand when you see it. "Lyz stepped out of the doorway, chin high, clearly expecting them to follow.
Something about her tone, that smug, vibrating excitement, told Rea she was enjoying whatever she had found.Rea rose slowly, Andrew's earlier words still clinging to her skin like heat. Her stomach had only just settled—and now this.
They followed Lyz through the corridors. The air grew colder as they neared the back of the castle, until the doors opened and the salty wind rolled over them in a rushing wave.
The path descended to the private shore, pale sand gleaming under the cliffs, the moon stretched thin across the waves.
And there she was.
Annabella stood barefoot on the sand, her white gown so simple it looked almost holy… except the moonlight rendered it near transparent, clinging to every soft, impossible curve of her body. Her hair danced in the wind, wild and mournful.
She was performing a ritual.
A burial rite.
For Arthur.
Annabella lifted her hands slowly. The ocean obeyed, curling upward, shimmering around a wreath of white petals she must have woven herself. The petals glowed with that soft, unmistakable purple of her magic.
The sight punched the air out of Rea's lungs.
"We all forgot what Arthur gave up for this to happen," Andrew whispered, stunned.
But Lyz wasn't watching the ritual.
Lyz was watching Annabella's body.
Her gaze dragged over the line of Annabella's waist, her thighs under the wet fabric, her trembling hands. Lyz wanted her, badly, and she wasn't hiding it. Rea felt the jealousy burn.
Annabella's voice rose, carried by the wind:
"May the tide take you where land could not protect you. May the deep carry what the world failed to give."
Her words fluttered like a broken prayer across the water.
Andrew exhaled shakily. "Saints help us. She's… she's just like Helene." Then, softer, with a strange, bitter envy: "Lucky bastard, aren't you, Rea."
Annabella lowered her hands.
Only then did she turn.
Rea and Lyz stepped forward at the same time, both extending their jackets to cover her bare shoulders.
She took Rea's.
Not even a hesitation.
Her gaze flicked to Andrew for just a moment—long enough for him to freeze, stricken, guilt and longing wrestling in his eyes.
Andrew finally swallowed and spoke, voice hoarse."It wasn't my intention to—"
"You don't need to apologise, Lord Andrew. " Her tone was soft but final. "I would never have imposed on you. I was his betrothed, after all. Even though it was loveless… this is the least I can do. "
Turning to Lyz she said with lots of conviction: "We are in this together."
Lyz's chest tightened, jealousy pooling low and fierce, to the point of violence.
She then took Rea's hand gently, and walked together to their room without barely sparing a glance to either Andrew or Lyz.
A flicker of something complicated passed across Lyz's and Andrew's face.
THE NEXT DAY
Training was brutal.
Not just difficult, hostile.Lyz was practically vibrating with the need to hit Rea. Every strike she threw had more force than necessary, more emotion than allowed, and every time Rea blocked, she did it with that sharp, simmering irritation that made Lyz's jaw twitch.
They weren't training.They were trying to tear each other apart.
Shawn kept having to wedge himself between them.
"Damn, guys!" he shouted at one point, ducking under a wild swing. "It's training, not a war zone!"
From the balcony above, Annabella frowned. "Are they trying to kill each other?"
Andrew only smirked, moving closer to her, leaning an elbow casually on the railing—though nothing about the way he watched her was casual. He stared at the little line between her brows… then the way she bit anxiously into her lower lip.
"They're just training," Andrew said, tone lazy, amused. "I've always found that those born female who grew to male genders… have the pettiness of women and the strength of men."
Annabella let out a small, incredulous laugh and turned her face slightly toward him, leaning in with a mischievous glint.
"I beg to differ, My Lord," she said, "they're reckless because they grew male parts."
Andrew burst out laughing.Annabella did too.
And then—together—they descended the stairs to the training grounds.
Annabella marched straight toward the two idiots, grabbed them both by the hem of their shirts, and yanked them close.
"Rea," she warned sharply, "stop resisting the training. You're too emotional, and anger makes you reckless. Lyz is trying to help."
Lyz immediately beamed like she'd been blessed by the sun.
"And you—Lyz—don't fall for her provocations."
Lyz's face dropped.Rea smirked.
Annabella turned her head toward Shawn. "You are perfect, Shawn."
Shawn lit up like a five-year-old given cake.
Andrew watched the entire scene with a look somewhere between amusement and fascination, especially the part where Annabella handled both Rea and Lyz like unruly puppies.
When she finished, he stepped forward slightly."Annabella. Join me? I'm meeting with my strategists."
Annabella nodded and followed him.
As they walked away, Andrew threw Rea a look over his shoulder, then winked.The kind of wink that said:
Stop acting like a child…Or I might steal your girl.
Rea clenched her teeth so hard her jaw popped.
Lyz, meanwhile, lifted her shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply.
Annabella's scent lingered on the fabric."Gods," she murmured under her breath, cheeks warming, "she gets prettier every single day."Her mind slipped, dangerously, into fantasy.Has Rea already taken her! They are of that age, exploring must be an occurrence.
If she were me… I would take her three times a day.
Rea stripped the moment she crossed the threshold.Boots kicked off.Jacket tossed carelessly over a chair.Shirt dragged over her head and thrown somewhere it didn't belong.
Her muscles ached.Her blood still simmered.She wanted—needed—something to ground her.
Annabella was already asleep, curled on her side, hair spilling like ink across a white pillow.Soft. Peaceful. Deceptive.
Rea slid into bed and pressed against her immediately, seeking that warmth she could never get enough of. One arm wrapped around Annabella's waist; her hand slipped beneath the thin silk of her nightshirt.
Annabella stirred, voice soft with sleepy irritation.
"Your hands are freezing," she gasped.
Rea grinned into her throat. "I'll warm them on you."
Her palm glided up, cupping Annabella's breast, thumb brushing lightly over the peak until Annabella's lips parted on a soft, unwilling sound.
"Rea…"
She caught Rea's wrist, eyes still half-shut but her voice sharp. "What has gotten into you?"
Rea inhaled deeply—her scent, her warmth, her softness—and hummed against her neck."You. Always you."
Her thumb rolled again, just enough to make Annabella arch into her.
Annabella exhaled, trying to steady herself. "We agreed. We must be mindful. The spell—"
Rea cut her off with a low chuckle. "—might work. Might not. How will we know unless we try?"
Annabella's eyes snapped open. "Do you hear yourself? That is reckless."
Rea shifted, thigh sliding between her legs, voice dropping into a needy growl."I could pull out."
Annabella stared at her, horrified and amused.That is the sort of logic I expect from a drunken stable boy, not from you."
Rea smirked, pushed her onto her back, and caged her with her arms.
"Come on. How will we know if the spell works unless we try without it?"
Annabella glared. "You want to gamble with my body to soothe your impatience?"
Rea lowered herself slowly, dangerously, until her breath warmed Annabella's ear.
"I want you. All of you. Just—"
Her hand slid down, right where Annabella was weakest."—you, taking me, letting me fill you"
Annabella felt the hard press of Rea's arousal against her sweet spot, and her whole body jolted.
Rea was different than usual,
Annabella had never seen it, never felt it, this raw, this intense.If Rea got a full breath of her pheromones, she'd lose all control.
Annabella gasped, pushing at her shoulder even as her cheeks burned."Rea—stop. Stop. You're—"Her gaze flicked downward.Oh gods… she's throbbing.
Rea didn't stop.She kissed her ear, her throat, sucking until Annabella trembled.
"The point," Rea whispered, voice breaking, "is that I want you. I want to fuck you until you're begging me not to stop. No barriers. No spells."
Annabella's resolve snapped—Not with reason.With desire.
Her fingers fisted in Rea's hair and she dragged her into a kiss—deep, slow, punishing and hungry all at once.
Her hands slid down Rea's chest, nails grazing teasing lines lower, lower—
Rea answered with a sharp thrust of her hips.
A broken sound tore from Annabella's throat.
Rea clutched her waist, grinding into her in a steady, desperate rhythm.
Every drag of Annabella's body against hers made Rea gasp, made her hips stutter, made her breath hitch.
She was too worked up.
Heat coiled in her gut, fast.
Too fast.
Rea cursed, gripping Annabella's ass tighter—
—and came hard in her briefs, grinding helplessly, mess spreading warm and humiliating between them until she collapsed with a shudder on Annabella's chest.
"D—n it," she whispered, breathless and wrecked. "I came in my briefs. That's not fair."
Annabella stroked her hair, elegant fingers soft against her scalp."Messy," she murmured, cheeks warm. "And terribly undignified."
Annabella brushed her lips against Rea's temple."I need to bathe, or I won't be able to scrub your scent off me."
Rea laughed breathlessly into her neck."Gods, I love you when you're cruel."