Page 15 of Of Realms and Chaos

He snorted at my sarcasm, flicking my nose. “It would have been rude of me to say you were off-key at the start.” I gasped, fighting back the laugh that I knew he was hoping for with his remark. Especially since I had definitely not been off-key. I was never off. Not when I was in my right mind, at least. “Not all of us can be perfect, but I love you all the same.”

Looking up at him made my heart stutter—his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones mixed with the glow of his blue eyes and the part of his full lips. It was like seeing a god in the flesh. He was far too flawless for his own good.

Clearly that big ego had grown from years of well-deserved praise.

I wondered if anyone outside of his Trusted knew that he was even more stunning on the inside. His love for, and dedication to, the family he had made; the way he fought for not only his realm, but all of them; even his patience and heart were something beyond that of many in The Capital. This male was so worthy of the joy that lit his eyes now.

“Well, the painting of me was shaky and unimpressive, so I guess neither of us are perfect.” The painting of me was actually stunning, annoyingly so. Stupid, cocky, talented demon.

Bellamy offered me his hand with a deep chuckle, smiling as if the world had been laid at his feet when I took it. Together we walked through the palace, which mirrored the world outside with its blue skies and white clouds. Though there was no snow on the ground, the air was still quite chilly, and I found that the farther down we went, the colder I got.

By the time we arrived at the arched doors that would lead us out, I was shivering. Bellamy said nothing, opting to simply call upon my silver cloak—the darkness wrapping around me like a blanket before disappearing to reveal the silver fabric. He reached behind me and pulled the hood up, placing a soft peck to my lips before calling to his own cloak as well.

“Where are we going?” I asked. My curiosity moved to the forefront of my mind now that I was not as uncomfortably cold, my free hand clasping the button at my neck.

A blue-clad guard opened the doors for us, a soft breeze hitting my face that smelled of pine and jasmine. Bellamy dipped his head in thanks, and oddly enough, I found myself doing the same. Strange how easily one could change.

“Since we have decided to have a joyous day, I want you to meet one of the happiest little creatures I have ever encountered.” He said it with a sense of eagerness that made me nervous. Anyone who had Bellamy this excited was someone to be slightly terrified of.

We walked in silence through the courtyard and down the large hill. It was steeper on foot, and I found that my legs were still sore from riding for weeks on end.

Quiet moments like these were dangerous, because they allowed the mind to wander. It was all too easy to think of King Adbeel, to wonder when Bellamy would send word to him that he should return to The Royal City. Despite my desire to live in this small piece of happiness, I knew that time was not on our side. Xavier and Mia would not wait forever, especially now that we—I—had slaughtered their demon search party. Meeting the king and returning to Betovere was far too important to let it go undiscussed.

“When will your father return?” I asked Bellamy, attempting nonchalance and failing miserably.

He quirked a brow as he peered down at me, clearly debating what he wanted to say and choosing his words carefully. More pretty lies, but I knew I would have my answers soon enough. I was always good at being patient, at waiting for the right time. Growing up a princess taught me that patience was a virtue one could not live without.

“Tomorrow. I will send for him tomorrow. Give me one more day with you where we can enjoy this—us.” He grabbed onto my hand, pulling it up to his chest.

I knew that whatever it was he needed to say in front of his king was monumental. More than likely, my power—magic—whatever it was—sat in the center of it all.

One day. I could wait that long.

Nodding, I continued on, allowing him to keep ahold of my hand as we walked. We remained that way until we reached the white and brown cottages along the cobblestone path. It was even more stunning at midday, the sun beating down on the little imperfections that made these places homes.

The area was far less congested now, likely because many had gone off to work and learn. To exist. Empty, but still full. That was how this place felt. As if it were made with enough love to last through those quieter moments.

My mind wandered, thinking of all the beauty I had seen since we arrived last night. The buildings, the landscape, even the demons were all uniquely magnificent.

I thought back to the many I had seen along the way to the library last night, Revanche standing out amongst them. She was stunning, but her personality could use some work.

“You and Revanche were engaged?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite my interest. I had no right to be angry since I was engaged when we first met. In fact, my engagement technically never ended.

Would one consider that to be infidelity?

Before I could further panic over my tragic love life, Bellamy responded, “That is debatable. Revanche is barely ninety years, but her entire life has been dedicated to becoming queen. I am half convinced that Judson conceived her simply to marry me.” His voice was not shaky, and his face showed no sign of nerves, but I could feel his unease at the topic.

“And the agreement between your fathers?”

He looked at me then, his face far more serious than I imagined the conversation warranted. The furrow of his brow and purse of his lips filled the air around us with an odd sense of anger as well, as if this topic was one best left alone. Yet he continued.

“King Adbeel felt marrying Revanche would help with my reputation of violence and promiscuity. Not to mention that it would not hurt to have heirs being born with the Ayad name and the Garnier bloodline. I will not lie, we had many…encounters, but the king was aware I never intended to marry her.”

King, not father. How often had I heard Bellamy call King Adbeel his father? Once? Never? I was unsure. I had no personal experience in familial interactions, but Nicola, Farai, and Jasper never called their fathers by their first names. Was Bellamy’s relationship with his own so strained that he could not even bring himself to acknowledge his parentage out loud?

Despite my everlasting curiosity, I dropped the topic, allowing the silence to once more consume us as we wove through the homes.

Bellamy brought us to a stop at one of the brown cottages, the vines wrapping the structure like a warm embrace. The door was a creamy white—a small pair of sandals left at the base of it, as if a youngling had carelessly kicked them off on their way inside.

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