Golda

Chapter 95: A Quiet Moment Under The Ash Tree

Chapter 95: A Quiet Moment Under The Ash Tree


Lorraine stepped closer. With each step, his features sharpened in the shifting light, or at least the part the mask allowed her to see. His lips were slightly parted, his breath a steady rhythm that whispered through both mouth and nose. A faint, almost imperceptible snore threaded the silence between them. The new emerald pin at the base of his braid caught the sun and flickered like a shard of captured light. Loose strands of hair had fallen across his brow, swaying when the breeze teased them.


Before she could think better of it, she was already lowering herself beside him. Her fingers moved of their own accord, brushing the hair away from his forehead with a touch so light it could have been the wind.


Emma’s eyes widened. She moved to intervene. The prince was sleeping, and if he woke to find her this close...


But Sylvia caught her wrist in a quiet, firm stop.


Emma turned on her with incredulous disbelief. Wasn’t Sylvia the one who always kept the princess at arm’s length from the prince?


Sylvia only pressed her lips into a thin line.


She had once believed it was her duty to keep the two apart. But lately... she understood far too well. Her own heart ached for a man she could not keep. She had known Aldric for years and still found it impossible to say goodbye. How much harder, then, for a princess who had known only one man all her life, and never once had her love returned?


Sylvia didn’t understand why the princess still clung to him. And yet, perhaps that was reason enough, he was the only one she could love.


The more Sylvia spoke with her in recent days, the more she realized: Lorraine did want to leave. But perhaps... perhaps it would be easier to let go if she was allowed to lean on him just a little longer. It might seem the opposite of cutting ties, but maybe that was what would make the blade sharp enough when the time came.


Emma suddenly rose onto her tiptoes, eyes darting toward something in the distance. Sylvia followed her gaze, and a small smile tugged at her lips. There, half-hidden in the greenery, was the tall, unmistakable head of Elias, visible only if one knew where to look.


"You can go," Sylvia murmured. "I’ll watch over the princess."


"Will you?" Emma’s wide eyes gleamed with gratitude, her flushed cheeks betraying just how much she longed to slip away for a stolen moment.


Sylvia gave a nod, and that was all the permission Emma needed. In the next heartbeat, she vanished into the bushes like a startled—but very pleased—little rabbit.


Left alone, Sylvia turned her attention back to Lorraine. The princess had settled beside the prince, her posture relaxed yet intent, gaze fixed wholly on Leroy. Not a word passed her lips; she simply... stared, as if studying something she could not name.


Sylvia let out a soft sigh and quietly drifted away, leaving the pair in their fragile, unspoken stillness.


---


Lorraine studied Leroy’s sleeping face, peaceful in a way she rarely saw. The wind stirred her skirt and sent fallen leaves spinning into little whirlpools around them, yet nothing disturbed him. Nothing disturbed her, either.


Time slipped strangely; what felt like mere seconds of staring at him must have been longer. Her gaze drifted downward. He sat with one knee drawn up, his wrist resting lazily upon it, fingers loose and hanging.


Her eyes caught there... and stayed.


That hand, broad and strong, the sunlight gilding the lines of his knuckles. Roughened by calluses, the veins standing proud beneath the skin... undeniably a man’s hand. Something about it seemed both capable and... grounding.


Then she noticed, just beneath the curve of his nails were dark smudges.


Dirt.


Lorraine leaned in a fraction, confirming it. "What were you doing in the dirt?" she murmured before she could stop herself.


It was absurd, speaking to him when he believed her to be mute. But he was sleeping. Even if he could hear, it wouldn’t matter.


She drew out her handkerchief, still carrying the faint trace of her perfume, and gently took his hand as though it were a precious thing. With slow, deliberate care, she wiped at the smudges, her fingers curling around his as if she might lose them if she let go. One by one, she cleaned each finger, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into hers.


Her lips curved at the memory—how those fingers had once gripped her with passion, how instinctively they had known how to please her.


Before she could think better of it, she bent her head and brushed a tender kiss against the back of his hand.


Her gaze wandered upward. His mouth was relaxed now, breath even, still deep in sleep. A strand of hair had fallen across his brow, and without hesitation, she reached to smooth it back.


Yet her attention kept straying... back to his hand. She leaned in, almost without realizing, until her cheek came to rest against it. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink into the warmth radiating from his skin.


This was all she wanted. Just this.


How wonderful it would be if he gave it willingly... if this warmth were not something she had to steal in silence. Would she ever feel it freely offered?


Her eyes prickled, the burn of unshed tears pressing at the edges. She willed them back, she would not cry. Not now.


It might be too soon to say, but deep in her heart, she had a feeling... she was with child.


Perhaps she would never have his warmth, and perhaps for the sake of her sanity, she would walk away from him. But she would take with her the greatest gift he could ever give: his child.


She would pour into that child all the love she had ever held back from him... and more. More than she had ever given Leroy, if such a thing was even possible.


The thought softened her face into a quiet, blooming smile. She meant to leave before he woke, but a small, stubborn voice in her heart whispered to stay.


And so she stayed, long enough for her to drift into sleep, still leaning against his hand.


Leroy’s eyes opened the moment her breathing deepened. He looked at her for a long while, his gaze misted with something unspoken.


"What am I to do with you..." he murmured.


His other hand lifted, fingers brushing her hair with rare gentleness, and his lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes.


My Lorraine...