Episode 102: Warm (Aadya)

The air was light and warm and calm. The wedding had been a success, with every seat filled and many more attendees left to stand. 

The reception was also a success. She had spent most of the past two hours ensuring each of her younger children were in bed. The older ones were either free to do what they wished or were going to do whatever they wanted, tonight, regardless of her insistence. She loved the nights with Meldrick beside her, their kids nestled for stories and lullabies. Once they were settled, the kids went off to bed and Konrad would step in and wish his own children a peaceful night’s rest. 

Aadya was planning on a new room, where Meldrick and Konrad and Nell, as much of a headache as the list gave her, could join her. A room before her bedroom, like a buffer to her own sanctuary. Her bedroom needed renovations too. It was all on a list of other projects that mattered more: Endymion and Eurydice’s apartment, an apartment for Zach, the house for Zach… the list went on and on and at the top, or perhaps the bottom, was the looming idea that she would need to create a space for Meldrick and Giana. Not just for them, but for the inevitable offspring that would follow.

At least the older children had guards, assigned to ensure each head found a pillow before the night’s end. Most of them didn’t bother her at night either, not that she minded. But long gone were the days of lullabies and kisses on the head before sleep. It was a nice and distracting thought from her previous trail. As she stepped out of the cool palace and into the heavy heat of the gardens, full of music and life, she took a calming breath. 

Mr. Blue was still there, standing near one of the wooden pillars that supported the canopy. The realm-attire he wore was far less enticing than the jeans, though she preferred the tunic to the hooded shirt. It didn’t matter to her, overall, what he wore. Aadya breathed in the alluring image of the man, someone new and unknown and nameless, except for the one she had given him, standing there, waiting for her. 

As she walked toward him, she picked up two glasses of a sweet berry wine, one she had hoped Endymion would enjoy even though he had yet to develop a taste for alcohol. 

She crossed the space to Mr. Blue, her eyes fixated on a night without other things occupying her mind, withholding her desire to sip the sweet liquor until they were together. Whatever had brought him there, she thanked Maelchor for. 

Someday, she would need another Mr. Blue to entice her through Meldrick’s next marriage. A promise that the night would be as passionate as this one, as unexpected, and as relieving. 

Perhaps, instead of a new Mr. Blue, she would just have Drey. 

He had come to her. She missed him. She wanted him to be home and whatever feelings she had – instinct, luck, or otherwise – to find their resolution. She wanted more time enjoy Mr. Blue; he was smiling at her now, standing instead of leaning. 

She circled Mr. Blue, around the wooden pole, then leaned up against it and offered the drink. He clinked her glass to his and took a drink from the cup.

He drank his too, and his eyes devoured her one last time before glancing back to the dance floor. 

“I think that went well,” she said. 

“I’d say this whole day has gone well,” he replied.

It had gone too well. Her every move that evening had revolved around him. It was intoxicating. It was fast. She knew she wanted to have fun, but he had proposed to her already. At least, it seemed like a proposal. A favor for her unborn children by a stranger she called Mr. Blue.

It was tempting to say yes, to irritate everyone.  But she cherished the vows of marriage. 

Still, if Drey wasn’t home in time… 

It was tempting to do something unconventional. He was a human. He was pushy and strong and his body left her aching for more. He couldn’t know how much of an impact he had on her. If he knew, it would be true. They were just having fun. 

“I had a room prepared for you,” she told him. 

“I’ll take that one with the domed ceiling,” he replied. 

Then, to her surprise, he let his lips melt against hers.

Her body tensed; everyone would see. Kissing in public was more than casual fun.

“You made this beautiful,” he whispered.

Her body melted toward his, the way he was so confident in everything, so unafraid. He had even offered to marry her. 

She would have Drey, soon, she could feel it. The marriage would have to wait for another woman with more freedom in her heart. For now, kissing was fun. She pressed her lips against his again and pulled his body against her own. 

“Most of the work was already done. The day after tomorrow or sometime soon, our summer festival begins. It’s a week of events. I’ve only been divorced…days. It will be news at the festival,” she spat out at once.

It was so obvious how much she wanted him. She had no idea what she had said, just words to fill the space of longing and to replace other words, like be with me now.

He took her hand and looked into her eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

She leaned closer and kissed his soft lips again. His hands sank lower on her back. She almost forgot his question.

She looked into his eyes, at the innocence of the question.

I need you, Mr. Blue.

“Someone to make me look less…”

He interrupted her, while she tried to figure out how to phrase her feelings about standing next to Meldrick, single and pregnant, while he had Giana.

“You couldn’t look less if you tried,” he said. He took a drink of his wine and looked back to the dance floor.

Aadya’s skin glowed, she tried to wash the glow away with water but she was pinned to her good mood. “Do you want to dance or abandon the party?” she asked.

“Dance?” he suggested, wholly unconvinced and entirely enticing. 

Aadya stuck her bottom lip out, pouty and unenthused. “Okay.”

His eyebrows raised, his lip twitched a hint upward, and he set their drinks on a table. Her eyes never left him, not for an inch or second, until their hands were locked in the burning agony of wanting him more than she could remember ever wanting something before. Pure lust, pure desire, pure heat.

They stopped at the floor, and a moment hung between them, still as an untouched lake. 

She breathed, every hint of scent filling her senses until she was beyond intoxicated by existing, until his hands rose and her hands met his. They met. Not in the cacophony of their first meeting, but to the melody of sound. 

He danced well. He led well. She let him lead, in a ballad of trust that spoke more to her than their compatibility in the bedroom (which also ranked high).

“At some point,” she whispered as she spun into his body, his arms wrapped around her. “A very pointed man with wings is going to speak with you.”

Greg smiled and kissed her. He let her flow back through the air, away from him until their arms couldn’t reach any further. Then he pulled her back to him, her other hand meeting his. “He’s either my head of security or the father of these two. I’m curious to see which one seeks you out first.”

Insatiably curious, as much as she was enticed, because Nell never let a stranger roam free in his barn.

“You can’t tell them apart?” he asked.

She laughed, her foot slipping for a moment. “The dark haired one, the head of security, is the father of my four youngest.”

He looked at her, not with judgement or confusion or the desire to flee.

She desired to flee her own past, and so she kept speaking, explaining, to Mr. Blue, even though it didn’t matter. She told him about the curse, about Robert and his fire opal eyes and that they had no – exact – idea where he had come from, but they knew he needed to be protected. With only one talisman, Aadya and Zero hatched a plan to solve the curse with a tattoo.

It had worked; she had been exposed to the curse and its need. Even after the ink had been perfected, she was subjected to it through yet another pregnancy. Finally, it had subsided in intensity. 

She had failed to let Konrad go, failed to be true to Meldrick after the weight had been lifted.

She had protected Robert.

“It was worth it,” she explained.

“And the other?”

“He’s a king as well, of pixies. The realms have population troubles,” she explained, again caught in a desire to just talk to him, to give him every piece of the puzzle of her life and what had brought her here, into his arms.

She withheld some things, and simply said she had made a pact to set a positive example.

He smiled, anyway.

After a few moments of being carried by the notes of sound from moment to moment, she looked at him again. His laughter, the sound she almost couldn’t hear beyond the music. She moved closer. She didn’t care if they danced or not, not anymore. She needed to know what amused him.

“I thought you said your head of security was gay.” 

She grinned, “The curse is powerful. His husband is too, but that didn’t stop this pregnancy from happening.”

She had yet to discover what had pushed Nell to be with her, to call her to the barn, to want these children.

It was clear he wanted them, Dragon babies not pure pixies.

“Would it annoy these men if I went to find them?” Mr. Blue asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Terribly,” she replied. “You should.”

He grinned, more broad than she had seen as of yet. “It’s fun to catch people off guard,” he said. She wanted to see the grin more, but it had already begun to fade as he spoke, into something between a grin and a smile that she wanted just as much for different reasons. “Is that boy okay? I did have some regrets about that.”

“I believe he’s fully recovered and not scarred,” she declared. 

She suspected Spaden would be through much worse in Sylem; taunting by classmates for his brother would be likely. She hoped no one there ever discovered he and Spence were the only two sons born of Sam and Indigo.

She also hoped Mr. Blue was the worst affront he would ever experience. She liked Spaden. Beneath his goofy exterior and gangly body he had yet to grow into, he was incredibly talented and intelligent, just like his brother. She hoped Sam never gloated, considering.

He pulled her against him, the curve of the babies pressing against him, their bodies pushing back in objection. She wasn’t far enough along that he could feel it, not through clothes and stomachs, but it amused her. 

“You have kids as part of your job?” he asked.

Maybe he had felt it. 

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s one of my favorite aspects. I have 32 children. Soon, 34.”

“I only have three boys.”

Only. It was so far a descriptor from meaning. She couldn’t imagine Jay and his brothers being only anything. 

“You may have another of these emergency weddings soon,” Mr. Blue said, as he moved her across the dance floor once again.

She loved the feel of him, guiding them through movements while his breath teased her neck and ear; his lips, her jaw.

“Dreya has tea.”

She had seen them, the way they entangled themselves in glances and avoidance and closeness. The thread of bond wanting Jay, much like her own wanting Greg. “I can see the potential between them.” 

Dreya was Endymion’s twin. It would be fitting to see them married within a year of each other. And much better to see them choose different partners, after Talise and Acheron. 

It might be embarrassing that she and her daughter fell for a father and a son; held bonds for them.

“I carry a gene,” she began. “For a form of attachment. It’s dominant.”

She would never marry Mr. Blue. It didn’t matter if the bond wanted to exist. He didn’t even need to know about it, except to understand Dreya and Jay.

“Is that why you capitulated?” he asked, his grey eyes scanning her face for an a answer to the question she hoped he wouldn’t ask. “I expected more of a struggle.”

He ran a trail of kisses down her jaw, then looked at her again, waiting. Wanting.

“I’m preventing it, but it was a factor.”

Her skin prickled beneath the surface. Acknowledged, the bond wanted to exist more. She didn’t drink tea to drown it; she had the talisman; a bodyguard holding her bond from him. Not knowing his name would help, she hoped.

“My dragon likes you,” she added, changing the subject and adding a detail as to why she wanted him. It was a useless explanation, except Apa had never been so pushy before. She had always been content. Dancer was supposed to be her mate, was her mate.

Except for Calamity. Everyone believed the dragons were incapable of changing mates, but thousands of years apart had broken the bond Apa shared with Dancer.

She had never been discontent. 

Until now, when she wanted Mr. Blue. Maybe even more than Aadya wanted him. She was desperate enough to stall him; ensure they spent time together.

“The one that ate me? Or do you have a secret friendly dragon hidden somewhere?

“I was warned to stay put,” he admitted, defending her winged blue. 

She laughed, toward him and at her own revelation. Apa was her winged blue, the man her Mr. Blue.

“She’s secretly friendly,” Aadya said. 

His eyes met her again. “Most people are, when you get through their defenses.”

Someone else would have given her an expanse of time to think of that comment, to let it sink in, but Mr. Blue moved her mind along to the next though, “You have a lot of dragons. Is that military or are they pets?”

“Whenever I have a child, the child gets a dragon. It’s a line I represent, as queen. The same goes for my heirs’ children,” she explained.

Despite the requirement to mate, Apa had always followed through with the obligation to provide offspring. With Calamity in the picture, it was no wonder Apa was excited by the potential of someone new, someone Aadya clearly connected with. 

If only she knew about Drey.

“So those eggs I tried to steal…”

She set her hand on her stomach, “Belong to this boy and this girl.”

He laughed. “I would have attacked me too.” As he spoke, his hand fell to her stomach. “A girl and a boy? Are you excited about them or does having 32 kids make them less interesting?”

They moved against his hand. 

“I’m incredibly excited. One will be named Palila and the other Rhen.”

“You’re naming the kid after seafood?” Mr. Blue asked.

She laughed now, leaning her head against his shoulder as they moved into a slow song. In a low voice she told him about Nell, what a pixie was, what the names meant, and how she had ended up giving him two of his own heirs. 

It wasn’t even a question, about keeping the royal line clear. It was Nell. He was, and would always be, important to her. Giving Merlyn, Eowyn, Ruskyn, and Landyn two siblings to tie Konrad and Nell even closer together was hardly a question. Not that she had much say, Nell had hardly asked though his mind had been tuned to hers. 

It should have been a question though, with Meldrick around.

Mr. Blue set his hands on her waist. She yearned to know his name now; knowing it would make leaving him impossible. 

“What I want to do,” he said, his voice low and smoldering near her lips. “Is be with you every day until Mr. Waiting For comes home.”

Every cell in her body felt alive, flush and on fire at the exact same moment, spinning in a chaos of desire. She could forget the past for one night. 

He must have felt drawn to her too, because he stepped back just a little. “Partly, it’s because you’re so fun, partly it’s to mess with Mr. Divorce.”
She let air fill her lungs, and pulled the tendrils of bond away. This was temporary. She needed to remember that, to remember that the feelings were useless except for a few nights. 

“I would love that,” she replied.

His lips met hers, in a heat that defied the promises to reserve themselves. She slid her arms around his neck, and let the kiss deepen despite the sea of people surrounding them. All that mattered, all she saw, was him.

He pulled away, then kissed her one last time, “Me too.”

“Can we go upstairs now?” she asked.

“I don’t know, can we? You’re in charge here.”

She slipped her hand into his and led him toward the palace. She was determined to enjoy him. “Tomorrow, I’m going to have to fly,” she decided. “You’ll have to come with, according to our plan.” She looked back at him to see his reaction. His eyes were wide and he pulled her against him. They would never make it upstairs at this rate. 

She tripped into his arms, which had the unfulfilled promise of being romantic. As romantic as tripping could be. Greg caught her and dipped her head right into Konrad’s lower body. 

Not particularly romantic, in that situation.

“What are you doing here,” Konrad asked.

“I live here,” Aadya replied.

“You,” Nell said, to Mr. Blue.

“He has a name, you know,” she replied. Not that she knew it. 

Nell’s eyebrows raised, her mind circling around the name Mr. Blue. 

She felt flush, knowing he could hear the thought in her head, bursting out. She should know his name. She would ask him, later. 

Konrad reached for Mr. Blue’s arm. “You’ll have to come with me,” he asserted. “The butterflies…”

Aadya sighed.

Mr. Blue pulled his arm back and tucked his hands into his pocket and looked down, “I don’t know what they overhead, but I didn’t actually steal the dragon eggs.”

Konrad’s eyes widened, and he moved into line with Mr. Blue, walking toward the palace instead of just confronting them. It was better than having Meldrick interfere, but it was worse: Nell had been overprotective the entire pregnancy, and even more protective since Konrad had been out of it. 

“But you did try,” Konrad said. 

“Yeah,” Mr. Blue replied.

Aadya loved the way he said it, like he wasn’t threatened despite her warning, despite how important they were to her (though they weren’t important to him), like he could handle it.

It would validate her point: Mr. Blue would make an excellent choice for a companion to the festival.

“You should come with us,” Nell insisted. “Have some drinks, maybe a pretzel.”

Have some truth serum, feel a false sense of security while we dissect your soul.

Her date’s hand slid around her waist; his fingers circled along her side and holding her to him, like she belonged there. “Maybe tomorrow, sometime. I’m busy tonight.” He led them a different direction – south, away from the palace.

“He’s safe,” Aadya insisted, over her shoulder. Apa likes him, she must have handled sorting that aspect out. “I’m over fifty percent certain.”

Konrad’s feet pounded as he ran to catch them, “Then how does he know about the butterflies?”

“It’s part of his job to know,” she lied. 

“I’m a robber,” Mr. Blue said. 

Though, it could be part of his. If he was going to be her escort there were some things he needed to know to be proficient in completing the job. She needed to lose Konrad and Nell, so she could get back to Mr. Blue and away from thinking, justifying, and even more dangerously, planning.

Her ears caught up with her. She even more didn’t need him making such claims, working Konrad up, and stalling the conversation further.

“Did you see Eowyn earlier?” she asked.

“No?” Konrad asked, confused.

“Are you sure she’s not with the butterflies?” Aadya asked, further pushing him away from Mr. Blue. 

Konrad’s eyes narrowed, toward the man instead of her. “You’re a robber; are you also a kidnapper?”

He – the man – pulled against her, his eyes now wide and wondering like Konrad’s, “The butterflies took my kids? Is that what happened?”

She could hear his voice – full of desperation and hope and anxiety and everything she felt about Terren, and Tarragon. Even if Tarragon was only an idea. Terren had been missing just over a week. 

She didn’t know how to feel about her inability to find and rescue Terren, or what it meant for her son.

She needed Konrad to be better. She looked at Nell, and thought it again and again: Konrad needs to be better by morning or he’ll be replaced.

She had no idea what better meant, but she had been too lenient with him.

“Konrad is ill,” she explained to Mr. Blue. “There are no sentient butterflies with plans here. My niece was kidnapped, but not by butterflies.” She looked to Konrad, determined to end the conversation. “We can talk in the morning.”

“If Eowyn isn’t at breakfast, I’m arresting him.”

“Eowyn is in bed,” she informed him.

Nell, possibly sensing she was done with the conversation and the uselessness of arguing with Konrad, engulfed her in a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered in the ear furthest from Mr. Blue.

She let her arms find their way around his incessant being. 

They were tragically nice hugs, warm and encompassing and capable of conveying love and attachment. She kissed his cheek. “Fine. Go make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. Zero will bring more medicine.”

The medicine as useless as it was, did help a little for short periods of time. 

Nell tightened his hug for a moment, then slid his hand down to where their babies tossed and turned under her own turmoil of the conversation.

He smiled, and kissed her cheek again. As he removed himself from her, his eyes focused on Mr. Blue, then he took Konrad’s hand and they flew off together.

For all the annoyance of his existence, Nell was one of her greatest companions. He and Indigo made excellent friends, and she wondered if it was something in their genes that spoke to her since they were half-siblings.

She’d always wondered; she had missed so much life that they had lived. They were infinitely important to her, regardless of their wiser lives stretched through thousands of memories she would never recount.

“Are you sure you’re safe? I might spear you later,” Mr. Blue joked. He was once again pulling her away, from where they had stopped and from the party, toward the palace and bed. 

Her laugh was low and rumbling, amused at his joke but also concerned for Konrad.

Mr. Blue’s arm wound around her again, hugging her and comforting her. This time, his hand rubbed her back as they walked. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“He was attacked by a spell. We thought. He’s better when he is medicated but it has no lasting effect.” It should have, it were a spell. “The medication is a clarity spell. It could be anything.”

His hand found her neck as they slipped through the palace doors. “Is it permanent?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I need a functioning head of security before the festival starts.”

It was far more than he should know, about her head of security and the workings and trials of the palace and kingdom, but Konrad had replacements ready: Hywalln or Corban would take his place. Corban was the likely candidate, though she would extend the courtesy of an interview to Hywalln. Corban had arranged most of the festival; he was the obvious choice and was already proving himself capable.

The pace changed; Greg moved through the halls like he knew the way and had to get their as soon as possible. “I bet your vaults are easy targets right now.”

She breathed him in. His honesty to her, his openness about certain things. The hall got brighter; her skin glowed.

“If you’re going to steal from me,” she said, in a voice as high-horsed as she could muster, “you’re not doing it alone.”

He grinned. 

“His apprentice is very skilled,” she added. She was so drawn to the idea of Mr. Blue stealing; she suspected he wanted the achievement more than any gold.

She wanted to do it to test her own security. It was a rare opportunity. 

“Easy targets are no fun. If I steal from you, I want it to be a challenge,” he said. 

“I’ll make sure to leave the vaults unlocked,” she teased. She knew it was a dangerous game to encourage someone to steal from her.

He laughed, his voice silken and full.

She turned, the hallway dimly lit, by her own skin, between them.

“So…” he teased. His hand slid up her cheek and trailed down, caressing her jaw and neck, shoulder and collarbone, the tops of her breasts. Her skin warmed and her fire followed each sensation. 

“Is there anywhere that’s a challenge?” he asked.

She wanted to be a challenge; someone he found worth the effort to have. Maybe he was someone who could only do temporary. She could be fun; she wanted fun. “There’s something worth more than aluminum,” she joked. “If you’re interested in testing the defenses.”

“Go on.” Their journey continued, his arm around her once again. 

Now, they were steps from her elevator. She had included it in the design of the palace after being teased. How could a pregnant queen get up and down six floors of palace while so pregnant? Easy.

She had realized she loved the elevator over the years. It was something that almost didn’t belong, in a world of water girls and horse drawn wagons.She found it a strong symbol for herself, and even more for Niels and Talise some day: there was a place for everything but their job was to ensure the kingdom progressed at a rate that honored the history of the kingdom.

She felt warm lips trailing down her jaw, “If you help you can’t give any clues that would make it easier.”

Every bit of her hummed in excitement. “It’s a blue liquid substance; life energy. The doctor, Spaden’s father, has it.”

He leaned against the railing inside the elevator. “What does it do?”

“Magic,” she teased.

She kissed him, and could feel the wisps of heat lingering as she pulled away.

His eyes watched her move against the wall, mimicking his casual stance. “It can revive the dead, among other things.” 

She attempted to make a shrug look like it belonged with that sentence and silence filled the space.

“Is he someone who would be fun to steal from?” he asked.

“Would I be fun to steal from?”

“You’re not very uptight or pretentious. Or in desperate need of a lesson about your own skills’ limitations,” he assessed.

Aadya grinned. Zero wasn’t particularly pretentious, but he was very uptight about iffy magic, about life energy. He also had never had his energy stolen from him. 

“He will be very fun to steal from, then,” she replied, imagining the tension in Zero’s body, his arms folded across each other like he was amused.

Mr. Blue’s skin glowed and little sparks tickled the area’s their bodies touched. “Point him out to me tomorrow?” he asked.

Before she could reply, his lips were against hers. The railing dug into her spine, so she made a watery cushion that pushed her body more against his. 

She needed to breath. To think of Drey and Drey coming home and Mr. Blue leaving.

“He’s a very tall man with dark hair and tan skin a shade lighter than mine. With a very short wife.”

She pulled him against her again. She’d distracted herself for a moment, and now she wanted him.

“Yes. Yes,” he replied.

Her hands slid down, toward the drawstring of his pants. She fiddled with it, until it came loose and she was able to ease his tunic out. The fabric flowed free, allowing her hands to slip underneath and caress the skin that stretched beneath. 

“I’m helping,” she moaned against him. She let her lips fall on his ear, pulling at the lobe then working down, further and further.

“Mm,” he replied. His fingers slipped beneath her chin and pulled her lips back to his face. He kissed her, his arms wrapped around her body as best they could, his hips pressed against her.

His hands ran along the lacing of her dress.

“This is a private elevator. Just mine.”

“Is it??” he asked. His hands found her dress and he began bunching the material. He had already undone the tie on the laces, and as he worked the fabric up the strings stretched and in a moment she was free;  bare to him for the second time since meeting.

Except for her talisman. She was not often so aware of the wooden relic hanging from her neck, but tonight she was. She could feel the bond again, not that it had ever left. Letting her mind feel it and think of it intensified everything.

Another distraction, then.

“I can shapeshift,” she blurted out. She had never mentioned it aloud before; Drey hated it. Meldrick avoided it, probably because of how he had behaved in the past – the time had had burned her.

Now, she wanted to heal.

“I may be able to grant you that ability.”

“How?” he asked, his tone pitched and eager. “Can I see?”

She searched inside herself for the part of her that could shift, that she had inherited from Drey. Her body vibrated. She fell to the floor, onto her hands, and was in a blink a small salamander. 

He looked at her, then reached down and picked her up.

She must have been two hundred degrees, burning with nerves. 

He pulled the loose pants away from his skin and slid her inside.

She grinned, and let her skin make passing flicks across his skin as she explored him. When she was done, she slid down her pants, like a slide, and shifted once on the floor.

“If I give it to you, I can’t take it away,” she clarified, her hands removing his clothes piece by piece until they matched. 

“I think that would be a useful skill to have.” His hands found her hips, and he pulled their body together. He kissed her collarbone and down her chest. 

She moaned against him, then let her hands drift to the talisman. It was too heavy. She lifted it, and as she did she encouraged a reciprocal bond to form.

Her body screamed in desire for him, ignited in a storm of flares that tangled with his own. He turned her, so she was facing the wall, and kissed down her spine.

She grabbed the bar and held on as he filled her with a shared longing neither could deny. They moved together, in silence only occupied by their breaths.

They fell still together, and as he peeled himself away from her she used the wall to support her legs, which felt wobbly and unstable. He must have noticed because he laughed then slid his hands beneath her knees and against her back. She let herself fall into his arms as he lifted her. 

“You are…” he set her down on the bed. “I don’t even know.

He slipped lower, along her body, and sensation consumed her again. 

Without warning, it stopped, and was met with a new sensation. She tried to place it, the stretching and the feeling of movement inside her.

She laughed a little; he had shifted. As soon as the thought entered her mind, he began padding across different areas, kneading, and losing her to the new sensations. 

When she was done, and he was lying beside her again, she smiled. “You may need another shower.”

It began to rain on them – mostly him. His hair fell from the thick curls to more of a wavy mop. One tendril of hair hung in a loop across his forehead, and she let her finger tangle it it as she pushed it back up. 

There were not enough moments to absorb everything that he was.

“We’ll have to experiment with size,” he said, his hand resting on her chest, cupping her breast.

She nodded across the room. “Do you see that door? That’s the nursery where my youngest sleep. As a warning.”

He stood, and went to the elevator to find his clothes. Once found, he moved toward the dresser next to her closet doors. “What do you wear to bed usually?”

She grinned. “Nothing.”

In a few quick steps he crossed back to the bed, laughed against her as he pushed her all of the way back against the bed. He kissed her neck, his cheek brushing her ear and his facial hair tickling her skin. 

“Good night, Aadya,” he whispered into her ear.

He fell back, filling the space of the bed. 

Her skin burned near him. “I… don’t…know your name,” she confessed.

The bed bounced in his laughter, both of them moving. He pulled her against him and held her still to him. “I know.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Greg Laurens.”

There was something about his name that settled into her in a new way. She tried not to think too much of it.

“Good night, Greg.”

She curled against his body, warm and content and unsure how to ever move away from him. Her mind drifted, from one thought to the next, and settled on the dream of what it would be like to be Aadya Laurens; someone different, someone new.

It was just a dream, she had her kingdom and the Alandrial legacy to fulfill. Still, rooted in the dream she knew there was a kernel of truth: she didn’t know who she was, and it’s why her marriage had ended.

If she didn’t know anymore, maybe who she was would be unrecognizable to Drey.

She didn’t want to be different, but life had changed her. Bonds had changed her. Every choice she made shaped her. And somewhere beneath those choices and ideas was a girl that hated that she was no one in particular, despite a history of being a someone.

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