Page 61 of Destiny Redeemed
“I can’t hear anything,” Rosalind voiced my thought.
Isolde smiled again—a dazzling smile that lit up her entire face. If you put Isolde and me side by side in a room full of people, they would flock to her warmth, while I would be left standing alone like a block of ice on a winter morning.
That was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t want anyone’s attention just—
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted Anderic’s attention. I was jealous, and my jealousy was a full-blown beast with fangs and claws. In my mind, Anderic was already mine.
And I didn’t share.
There it was, the answer to Rosalind’s question. I had truly fallen for Anderic.
And there was no going back for me now.
I looked at them. They were talking to each other with the easy familiarity of old friends. They looked good together. Anderic—golden sunlight made flesh, with those tousled curlsframing his chiseled face and his tailored white suit accentuating the broad shoulders that could carry the weight of a kingdom—and Isolde: porcelain skin that probably never saw a blemish, copper hair cascading down her back like autumn leaves caught in sunset, her emerald gown clinging to curves that seemed created for royal portraits. And here I was, the bone in the chicken soup, wanting to slap that sweet, delicate smile right off Isolde’s face.
“They make a stunning pair, don’t they?” Rosalind voiced my exact thought, her tone light and casual as if commenting on the weather.
I looked at Rosalind with narrowed eyes. “Whose side are you on, exactly?” I asked, irritation dripping from every syllable.
Rosalind’s lips curled into a surprised smile. “Obviously, I’m on your side.” She tilted her head toward Anderic and Isolde. “The question is, aren’t you going to do anything about that?”
I gritted my teeth, jealousy burning through me like wildfire. My blood roared in my ears, and before I knew what I was doing, I was already walking—or more like storming—toward them, my midnight blue gown billowing around me like storm clouds.
As I neared, both Anderic and Isolde looked at me. Anderic slightly turned, his golden brows drawing together. “Ilyana—”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I pulled him down by his collar and went up on my tiptoes—because God help me, the man was built like a tower—and pressed my lips against his.
For a heartbeat, surprise froze him. Then, like ice melting under the summer sun, he yielded. His lips were warm, softer than I remembered, moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own. The taste of champagne lingered on his tongue as it swept against mine. His hands found my waist, strong fingers splaying across the small of my back, drawing me closer until the midnight blue fabric of my gown crushed against his pristine white suit.
The ballroom fell silent around us. The orchestra faltered, notes dying midair. Conversations ceased. Even the clink of glasses stilled. But I didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let them write songs about this moment for all I cared.
All that mattered was Anderic, the way his body curved protectively around mine, the slight tremor in his hands betraying how affected he was. One of his hands slid up my back to cradle my head, fingers threading through my hair with reverent gentleness even as his mouth claimed mine with unmistakable possession.
When we finally broke apart, my lungs burning for air, I found myself drowning in the blue of his eyes instead. They were darker now, stormy with desire, yet softened somehow.
“You’re mine,” I whispered, my voice pitched only for his ears. “Only mine.”
His lips curved into a smile—not the practiced, princely smile he bestowed on courtiers and diplomats, but something real and raw that transformed his entire face. A smile I’d never seen before.
“Is that a royal decree, Princess?” He murmured, his breath warm against my lips.
Chapter 15
The murmurs of the scandalized crowd crashed over me like a tidal wave, dragging me back to reality. What had I done? I’d just kissed the prince—the heir to the Aetherian throne—in front of the entire court, including my parents, my brother, and, oh god, the Queen herself. Every noble in the kingdom had just witnessed me stake my claim on Anderic like some territorial animal marking its territory.
I stepped back, my fingers unlacing from his hair—when had I even buried them there?—and suddenly the weight of hundreds of eyes burned into my skin. The heat that had pooled in my belly transformed into panic that clawed up my throat.
“I, uh—” For once in my life, words failed me. The great Lady Ilyana D’Arcane, rendered speechless by her own impulsivity.
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
Then I bolted.
I didn’t run—I wasn’t some common tavern wench fleeing after stealing silverware—but my retreat was hasty enough that nobody could mistake it for a casual stroll. I could feel the phantom heat of Anderic’s gaze burning between my shoulder blades as I walked away, my lips still tingling where he’d bitten them during the kiss—a sharp, unexpected graze like a warningand a promise wrapped into one. The taste of him lingered—champagne and something uniquely him, like winter storms and barely restrained power.
Princess.He had called me Princess. That was the third time he had called me that.
The grand staircase loomed before me like a mountain to be climbed. Each step felt like an eternity, the rustling of my midnight blue gown seeming to whisperscandal, scandal, scandalwith every movement. The eyes tracking my ascent bored into my back like arrows.
