"The king has asked not to be disturbed," one of the guards said, standing with his large frame only partially blocking her entry.
Iris struggled not to take him at his word, turn and leave. She had been racking her brain for what to say for the entire journey from her rooms to his, and still she was unsure as to why she had even come.
"The king will want to see her," a voice announced behind her, and she whipped around to find Filton standing a little way down the hall, looking as though he had just materialized from one of the alcoves. Had he been there the entire time? "Go ahead."
The servant gestured to the king's door, and Iris gulped as she turned back just in time for the guard to step out of the way.
Now it definitely is too late to turn back, she thought, raising her fist to knock. She paused just before her knuckles touched the wood and sucked in a deep, calming breath. Closing her eyes for a moment, she steeled herself for whatever was about to happen, reminding herself that she had brought herself here. Whatever happened now was down to her and her alone.
I wanted the choice to be mine, she reminded herself. Nobody had forced her to come here, nobody had made her seek the king out in his bedchambers.
Opening her eyes with one more breath, she rapped her knuckles on the door.
"Filton, go away!" came the reply. "I said I did not want to be disturbed!"
Iris glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks burning with discomfort, but Filton urged her forward with a shooing of his hands, offering her an encouraging smile.
Here goes nothing. Iris gulped. Her hand trembling, she gripped the door handle and tentatively pushed the heavy, white oak door open.
Inside, the room was much the same as her own, with white oak furniture, a four-poster bed and several closets that were likely fit to bursting with garments.
The only thing this room had which hers didn't was a king lounging on the bed. Even the broad-shouldered mountain of a royal was dwarfed by the pile of cushions he was leaning against. He had one arm thrown over his face, covering his eyes as though he had a headache.
"I thought I told you to go away," he groaned, sounding much less authoritative and more exhausted.
Unsure of what to say, Iris cleared her throat and whispered, "I am not Filton."
She almost jumped in fright as King Ember's arm was suddenly flung away from his face and he sat bolt upright on the bed.
"Lady Iris!" he gasped, his eyes wide with shock. He clambered quickly from the silken sheets and took several steps toward her. Iris tried not to look below his face, but it was almost impossible. The king's pale torso was exposed, his robe falling open to reveal rock hard muscle and a small amount of crimson chest hair. Iris's only saving grace was that he was at least wearing a pair of silken shorts. She had never seen him so unprepared, so disheveled, and it was all she could do not to cross the room just to be close to him.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded though Iris was sure she heard a tone of pleasure in his voice at her presence.
Iris gulped past the lump in her throat. She had come here for a reason. She couldn't back out now.
"I heard what happened here this evening," she admitted, color rising to her cheeks as she saw the king's eyes darken. "The rumors are all over the palace and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."
Ember eyed her closely, his silence disturbing her ten times more than if he had raised his voice at her.
"You are either very brave or very stupid coming here with something like that," he growled deep in his throat, reminding Iris of a wounded animal, and she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them. Perhaps she felt the need to prove to herself and to him that his problem was not below the belt but in his choice of partner. His next words were what stopped her from doing so. "Do you know what I could do to someone spreading such rumors?"
Iris knew that his harsh tone was due to embarrassment and perhaps even shame, but it still stung.
"I meant no offense, Your Majesty," she quickly lowered her head and made herself small, "I merely wished to see that you were alright. I am not the culprit spreading such rumors," she said softly before daring to lift her eyes and adding, "Though I don't believe you would wish for any harm to befall me even if I were."
Almost instinctively, she took a step forward. King Ember closed the space between them in a single bound and when he gripped her upper arms, she felt herself leaning into him.
"How can you be so sure?" he growled but before he could say or do anything else, she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and forced him into silence with her lips. Her hands lifted to his chest, her fingers threading through his chest hair when he began to kiss her back.
His hands released her arms and came up to cup her face, holding her to him as though he was frightened that she might suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke. Iris leaned into him further, pressing her body firmly against his in the hopes he would see that she was going nowhere.
For a few moments she allowed herself to think of nothing but his lips. They were soft and passionate against hers, his facial stubble tickling her chin. The world around them spun away in a dizzying blur as the masculine, musky scent of his sandalwood and juniper cologne washed over her. The growled moan of desire that trembled in his chest and made the palms of her hands vibrate was enough to send a pool of heat cascading down between her thighs.
Then, as Ember's fingers released her face and began to travel down her body, toward her skirts, realization hit her. What the hell am I doing? She snapped at herself and pulled back so suddenly that she might have fallen if not for Ember's hands that moved like lightning to grip the small of her back.
She stood, eyes closed, too scared to open them and look up at him. Too scared that she would see disappointment, or even anger. She wanted more than anything to give herself over to him, to allow herself to feel something other than wretched disgust while giving herself to a man, and yet the small voice in the back of her head reminded her that she wasn't giving herself over to him, because he already owned her.
I can't do it, she thought, not like this.