King Lucien tried to lay his pounding head down and sleep, but sleep remained elusive. He wasn’t surprised, but still he tried. When he finally slept, his nightmares haunted him. The memories of Declan played themselves one after another in his head.
He woke up sweating profusely and breathing hard. It was the middle of the night and silence had descended upon the palace. Memories of Declan did not hesitate to break him down. Would a day ever come when he would remember his beloved cousin without such intense pain gripping his chest? Declan never deserved that kind of horrible death. He did not deserve it at all.
A pounding headache nagged him. He got up from the bed and walked out of the bedroom. He had no destination in mind, but his legs carried him towards Danika’s bedroom. He took the key from the guard and sent the guard away.
The king opened the door but made no move to enter deeper into the bedroom. With his arms crossed and his face inscrutable, he watched her sleep.
She looked so small in the bed, her blonde hair spread out around her. Even while bandaged like a sacrificial lamb at the altar, she was as beautiful as an angel and as forbidden as sin.
He did not plan to be discovered. He didn’t want her to know that he had ever come here.
It had been three nights since his future bride came to the palace, and he hadn’t summoned her to his bed. That was not the way things were done. The courtship was for the king to get to know his queen—to spend all his spare time with her—and for the queen to warm his bed and satisfy his sexual urges.
He had no desire for any of that. In his mind—so deep in his mind—he acknowledged he had more desire to spend more time with Danika than with his future queen.
But then again, when a man performed his duties, he did not have to like them. It was called a duty because it was an obligation—whether you fancied it or not.
His eyes took in her bandaged arms. Was she doing better?
He watched her sleep for a while. The rise and fall of her belly in breathing fascinated him. He walked into the bedroom, getting close to her, then bowed a little and placed a hand on her stomach.
Just a feather-like touch of assurance. Is that what it was?
He frowned a bit and straightened himself to his full height. He did not know how long had passed as he stood there and watched the rise and fall of her chest, of her belly.
Finally, he tore his eyes away from her.
Danika’s bladder woke her up suddenly. She’d kept her eyes closed, trying to put off the feeling of having to get up from the bed and use the bathroom, but the pressure was unbearable for her. She stirred, stretching herself a bit. The moment she took that first step into consciousness, she felt his presence.
King Lucien is here. He really did come tonight.
Her eyes opened and found his. He was standing beside her bed.
IN THE KINGDOM OF NAVIA
Late at night, no one was awake anymore. Just the guards on duty.
A small house was in the secluded part of the town. Darkness surrounded the house; it was way past midnight.
Time for lovers. Time for nightmares.
Inside that house, its owner laid in the bed, and he was having a nightmare. He panted and thrashed on the bed, lost in the tight grip of his nightmares.
He lost his memory a long time ago, and so, his nightmares made little sense to him. All he knew was that it was hard for him to have a peaceful sleep, and his nightmares did not reveal much. They were filled with images that were incomplete. Horrible suffering, he did not understand.
But that night, he heard words in his nightmares for the first time.
Someone shouting a name. The person’s voice was filled with so much pain and desperation.
“Declan! Nooo, leave him alone! Declaaaan!!” The voice roared so loudly.
Callan shot up in the bed, sweating profusely. His breathing was erratic as he tried to catch his breath.
The voice would not stop calling to him and pleading on his behalf.
Declan, the voice called him, instead of Callan.