Page 20 of Lost Heir
The reminder of the risk his presence posed was barely audible, a whisper against the gravity of his closeness. “You shouldn't be here,” I breathed, the danger of discovery looming over us. “Leave before—”
“No one’s going to know,” he said as his hands caressed my bare arms. “I jumped the wall instead of coming in through the front gates.”
I spun around to face him, not realizing how close he was, and stumbled backward. Before I could fall, Ronan wrapped an arm around my back and tugged me toward him. My heart galloped like a thousand horses as I was brought flush against his warm body. I didn’t want to pull away, but I had to. I needed a clear mind when speaking to him.
“Are you going to tell me why you lied to me?” I pushed him away, putting some much-needed distance between us.
He sighed. “If I tell you, will it change anything between us?” he asked as he started circling me again. “You’ll still feel as if I’ve deceived you.”
I raised my chin. “You don’t know that. Maybe I won’t.”
Under the flickering candlelight, Ronan crossed the dimly lit room toward my bed. With a deliberate motion, he shrugged off his heavy boots, one after the other, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. He then reclined with casual grace on my bed, resting his hands behind his head on the pillow, creating a relaxed, yet decidedly confident pose. The low light danced across his sharp features, casting half his face in shadow and emphasizing the intensity of his crimson gaze. “Fine. But if I tell you, you must fulfill onewish of mine,” he proposed, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness masked by a playful undertone.
“Which is?” I asked, my curiosity piqued yet guarded.
He tsked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he wagged a finger at me in a scolding manner. “Not yet, Leila. When I’m ready to make the wish, I’ll tell you.”
I scoffed, feeling the tension rise within me as I crossed my arms over my chest, my posture stiffening in defiance. “I don’t make open-ended deals.”
His challenge hung between us; a gauntlet thrown. “Then I guess you don’t want to know,” he sighed, his voice laced with feigned disappointment. He lay there, an enigmatic figure bathed in the interplay of light and shadow near the bedside candles.
Feeling as if there was no way out, I approached the bed and stood my ground. “Fine,” I sighed, my voice filled with resignation. “But I won’t do anything illegal, or something that goes against my morals, or … sexual.”
He snorted in response, his laughter short and disbelieving. “What do you take me for, Leila? Have I ever ravaged you against your will?”
“I’m just making things clear!” I nearly shouted, my voice echoing slightly in the room, betraying my rising frustration. “So you got a deal. Now tell me. Why did you lie?”
Ronan regarded me with piercing intensity, his gaze searching mine for a moment that felt like an eternity before he exhaled loudly, a gesture of concession. He moved his hands to rest atop his abdomen. “Fine. What do you know, or should I say, what didMykaltell you about the prophecy?”
“That I need to be sacrificed to the fox demon in order for the Crimson Clan to resurrect him. That … that one of the rituals includes giving my maidenhood to you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mix of fear and confusion.
“Did you ever wonder why it has to bemewho takes it? Why couldn’t it be anyone else from the clan?” he probed, lifting a brow in a gesture that challenged me to question deeper and look beyond the surface.
I frowned when I realized I’d never questioned the motives behind the ritual. “No, I didn’t. I just assumed—”
“You assumed I wanted to take advantage of you,” he finished for me, his tone somber yet tinged with an underlying frustration. “I get it. But that’s far from the truth, Leila. The truth of the matter is that the one who takes the maidenhood of the Blood Weaver is entitled to one wish from the fox demon.”
“What?” My confusion was palpable, the revelation sparking a myriad of emotions within me.
He sat up and turned to face me directly on the edge of the bed, his movements deliberate, as if preparing himself for the weight of his next words. “The fox demon has resurrection powers. I had hoped—”
“You hoped after sacrificing me and resurrecting the fox demon, you could wish for him to bring me back,” I finished for him, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place in my mind.
“Yes.” His admission was simple, yet it carried the burden of his intentions and the complexity of his plan.
“Then why does it have to be you? So what if that’s your intention—”
“Because the one who makes the wish …”
“Yes?”
He sighed. “Because the Blood Weaver and the one from the Crimson Clan must have feelings for one another … like that shared by the fox demon and moon goddess.”
I scoffed and began to pace back and forth, my mind racing. “Do you think that makes it all okay?”
He sighed deeply, the sound laden with resignation. “I knew you would still be against it, which was why I never brought it up. Why I told you I’d bring you to the Grasslands and never divulge your identity. Leila—”
“Why does the Crimson Clan have to resurrect the fox demon? What good will it do for your people?” I asked, my gaze piercing his to search for the truth in the depths of his crimson eyes.
