He acquiesces, kissing down my chest. The dress is low-cut and tight, pressing my breasts up. His mouth traces the swell of my breasts. My skirt is voluminous, meant to make me look like a virtuous princess, not to encourage illicit trysts in side rooms. A laugh bubbles out of me as Galen struggles to the point that he gets on his knees just to find my ankles.
His hands are rough against my bare skin, sliding up and up and up. Galen is swift—once he finds the soft spot between my legs, he doesn’t tease, he doesn’t play. I grip the door frame, biting down on my lip, full of wanting. He kisses me as he thrusts himself inside me with the same need. I let out a soft moan, burying my head in his shoulder as he moves in a fevered tempo. I hold on to him, barely able to hook my ankles together around him because of the damn dress and its layers between us. Unlike when we were dancing in the 1920s, we both go to great lengths to stay quiet this time, his hand staying firm against my mouth as I try to fight the power behind my orgasm. I want to scream and let my magic explode from my body, but instead,I bite hard on my lip, tasting blood as his body shudders with his own release.
My cheeks are burning red with embarrassment on the dance floor. Galen is smiling at me, a smirk on his lips. This is a game to him, and it pisses me off. He spins me, holding my hand tight. The lights from the room reflect off the gems on my gown, casting light everywhere. I feel like I’m lighting up the room like a disco ball.
When he spins me back into his arms, I whisper in his ear, “Are you capable of showing me something other than us having sex?”
He frowns. “Of course,” he grits out, and squeezes my hand.
We’re seated in the library, a book in my lap, my legs curled beneath me. Galen is seated across the room, looking over papers before him. There’s that same worry wrinkle between his brows, only I don’t have the time to obsess over it, because I have other things on my mind, things I’m desperate to talk to him about. I don’t know if it’s the mood, but the room feels shrouded in shadows.
“Your brother won’t leave me alone, and it worries me,” I say casually, not wanting to alarm him needlessly. I don’t want him to have his focus split—his work ethic is something I love about him. Except, if I admit the truth to myself, Idowant him alarmed. I need him to focus on me.
He looks up, watching my face. “He’s throwing a tantrum because he’s gotten his way always as a prince, but he can’t have you. He thinks that you have been denied to him and that you are the solution to making him happy after his wife left. What he fails to realize is that taking you isn’t going to make him happy.” Galen looks back down at what he’s doing, as if trying to put me at ease.
He doesn’t sound convinced, and I fight to keep my expression as neutral as my voice. “It makes me uncomfortable. He’s your brother, and I would rather not come between you two.”
Galen places his papers down and gives me his undivided attention. “I, too, would rather not have my brother come between us. But, love, you’re the only thing that matters. I’ll burn all of Solarem down for you, my brothers be damned.” He rises, and I think he’s going to take his papers and leave, not wanting to do the same song and dance we’ve been doing for months. The ottoman scratches the floor as he pulls it closer to me. Galen places his hands on my knees and slides them to my ankles. His touch always electrifies me, and now is no exception. I shift so I can uncurl as he wants me to. My legs rest on his lap, and his fingers massage my feet and calves.
“My love,” I say leaning toward him. “I would sooner die than let that happen.” I kiss him gently on the lips, but Galen is unconvinced.
“After everything that has happened, I can’t lose you.”
I kiss him again, harder this time.
“You never will,” I whisper in his ear, pulling him closer to me.
“Better?” Galen’s voice is tight. His breath tickles the baby hairs on my neck. I nod, but my mouth is dry, and I feel sick. I look up at him, trying to find the words I want.
“How long was that before...?” I choke out.
“Three months. I had three more months with you before he took you.”
I think about that span of time and how that’s almost as long as this whole process. The Calling.
“And how did he ‘take’ me?” I ask, not sure I want the answer. I’m not stupid; I had to die, but I don’t understand what that has to do with Essos. Does it have something to do with him being God of the Dead? My gaze searches the room for Essos, but I’m unable to spot him. I think I might throw up.
“He…” Galen chokes up. “I can’t tell you what he did to you before I got there, but when I came home…” He pauses again. “The knife was still in your chest, and you were cold.” As if reacting to his words, coldness spreads through my body. I am barely aware that the song has ended. My muscles remember what to do, because I step away from him in the silence. Galen goes deathly still in front of me.
“May I have this dance?” Essos says from behind me, and my stomach churns. Galen looks at me as if asking if this is okay, and I give a small nod and turn. Essos has a vested interest in ensuring that I make it through the Calling, for better or worse. I give a small curtsey and take his hand, startled by the shaking of my own. When Essos sweeps me into his arms, my knees nearly buckle, and I lean into him for support as my body trembles.
“Cold again?” he asks, his body pressed against mine. There is a hint of concern not only in his voice also in how he looks at me. I nod, still unable to find words for what’s going through my head. My body starts to warm, but it doesn’t fix the underlying confusion caused by dancing with my alleged murderer. I should be repelled by Essos. My brain is telling medanger, that this isn’t safe, but my heart and body haven’t gotten the memo.
I see Galen watching us with visible concern beneath his mask.
How can this man who has shown me nothing but kindness be the man who stabbed a knife into my chest? I struggle to reconcile the Essos I know with the Essos Galen has told me about. My mind is so preoccupied trying to reconcile the two that I stumble and step on Essos’s toes. He recovers easily, adjusting his grip on my back to compensate for my obvious distraction.
There is so much that Galen has told me that is at odds with what I have seen exhibited in Essos. He’s been kind and sweet, making sure that I have food and am tended to. These are not the actions of a man who’s trying to one-up his brother—these are the actions of a man in love. Even my interactions with him go further than base desire or attraction. There is no denying how my body, even now, on the heels of being told that he murdered me, wants to stay connected to him and only him. But I’ve seen the mask he wears while judging souls—maybe the way he’s acting with me is another mask. How do I balance this man who has done his best to protect me with the man who allegedly killed me?
“I’ve been speaking with Catalina, and it got me thinking. I have a surprise for you tomorrow that I hope you’ll like.” Essos is speaking, and I turn my attention back to him. “I know that emotions have been running high since Helene dismissed so many girls, so I plan on letting everyone have a sort of spa day. That’s not the surprise, though. Come to breakfast dressed for the day.”
My chest constricts at yet another kindness from Essos. It shouldn’t be surprising that he thinks of me like that, but I still feel tears prick the back of my eyes at the idea that he’s going out of his way for me. Unable to control my response, I say, “Yes, of course, I’ll come to breakfast dressed. If you’ll excuse me, I want to make sure I thank your sister for all the generous gifts that she’s given me.” I pull out of his grip mid-dance and walk to Helene.
Helene grabs my wrist as I walk toward her. “What are you doing?” she hisses in my ear, pulling me toward her.
I rip my arm out of her grip. “I am getting some fresh air,” I say, trying to hold on to the calm that is leaking away like a balloon with a hole.
I notice that Zara has swooped into Essos’s arms, looking all too happy to fill the gap I’ve left behind. She’s wearing all black, the see-through corset designed with black flower appliques worked strategically around her chest, and a black lace mask covering her face.