Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

Eden hadn’t believed her ears at first. Draven wanted to throw a ball? She had, in fact, been far more surprised at that than at the change Alder had endured. At first, she’d felt sorry for her pet, but as he grew used to his wings and discovered how he could both hide beneath the bed and fly away from grasping fingers, he delighted in it.

Still, a ball? When she summoned Loriah to rake over the details of what she wanted for her gown, Eden opted for something Andherian. If she were to be their queen, she wanted to look the part but also still hold true to herself.

In the end, she’d settled on a deep plum dress with a plunging neckline and, unfortunately, a corset. Eden was still growing used to the confining nature of the blasted things. Silver petal buttons adorned the front of the bodice, staying true to her love for the flora.

How had it already been a month in Andhera? The first week had been atrocious. She’d created her fair share of trouble without meaning to, but she’d like to think she’d settled in and that everyone else had grown used to her.

Loriah placed one more pin in Eden’s hair. Her waist-length strands were, for once, pulled up, styled into an intricate chignon. It looked as if it were a blooming rose.

Silver teardrops swung from her earlobes and settled at the hollow of her neck, with a vine of silver and amethyst nestled just above her breasts.

“There. You are a vision, and if His Majesty doesn’t find himself lost for words, he’s blind. Now, go to him and enjoy your time.” Loriah didn’t often speak so boldly, but there was a glint in her eyes this evening, and it sent Eden’s heart into a frenzy. Did she know something Eden didn’t, or was it simply due to the official announcement that she would be their queen?

With a steadying breath, Eden stepped out into the hall. Nerves coiled within her, and she was uncertain why. Her days had acquired a new routine, and instead of Draven purposely avoiding her, they met at meals occasionally. He was careful not to dip into heavier conversations, which meant it was mostly Eden discussing her additions to the garden or what trouble she’d managed to stay out of in Primis while visiting the children.

Eden was so lost in thought that as she rounded the corner in the hall, she bumped into Draven. He steadied her by clutching her elbows, and she didn’t miss the way he cocked an eyebrow down at her.

Draven’s mouth quirked at the same time he opened it, but he stopped himself, his eyes drinking in Eden’s appearance. “I was wondering if you’d run away. It turns out that it’s bad form to not show up at a ball which is held in your honor.”

Eden’s eyes widened at his words, but then she laughed. “Yes, well, it turns out that I wouldn’t get very far.” She blinked, taking in his dress coat, which was the same purple as her gown, with a silver vine embroidered up one side and over his shoulder. She hadn’t known he’d planned to match her, but the gesture warmed her. Even the silver buttons on his vest matched the adornments of her bodice.

As they teased one another, Eden saw the change within his eyes. The shift of color and the lightening of his irises. She’d grown used to watching them carefully, because while his body said otherwise, his eyes appeared to have a harder time pulling up a barrier, at least in her presence.

“No. You wouldn’t.” Draven offered his arm to her. “But we are working on that.”

Without another word, Eden looped her arm through his, and the pair were soon entering a ballroom full of Andhera’s nobility, both vampire and were-people.

“Announcing His Royal Majesty, King Draven, and Lady Eden Damaris of Lucem,” the herald proclaimed loudly to the room. The middle-aged were-panther bore the insignia of the dark realm upon his breast: a black papaver with a golden center that declared him a part of the House of Draven.

A month ago, when Eden had been the center of attention at a ball, it was within Draven’s arms and she’d felt so different. She’d been full of hurt, fright, and confusion, but now . . . She couldn’t exactly put words to what it was, but she was no longer feeling those things.

As they were announced, Draven led her toward the center of the room. His hand resting on the small of her back was enough to paint her cheeks red. She wasn’t embarrassed. It was more that a part of her yearned for that searing heat his touch left in its wake.

Eden swallowed roughly, turning her eyes to his, and she found a silent question in them: Are you all right? She nodded. As the music played, Draven led her across the dance floor with an easy grace. Eden felt as though she were walking amongst the clouds, and when he slanted her in a dip, she laughed.

Draven slid his hand along her back, righting her once more, but heat flared in the wake of his fingers, burning inside Eden. She was breathless halfway through the dance, which had little to do with the physical exertion and everything to do with what she anticipated—wanted, even.

By the sun, Eden had tried to ignore the mounting feeling inside and stop herself from following Draven wherever he may go, but she couldn’t help herself. It was good, wasn’t it? If he was to be her husband, she might as well find him attractive. But how does he feel?

His touches were bolder than usual, lingering, so she let her fingers trail from his shoulders to the back of his head. A small, innocent gesture that had his blue eyes darkening on her. Instead of cool depths, there was a simmering heat that threatened to turn Eden limp.

However, the first dance ended, and it wasn’t time for them to partake in the festivities. There was still the announcement to make, which sent her stomach into a fit of flapping butterfly wings.

Eden wasn’t daft. She knew rumors flew wildly, and she could only assume or hear secondhand what Andhera thought of her as their soon-to-be-queen—if they even saw her as that. After tonight, they’d have no choice but to.

With his arm firmly snaked around her waist, Draven led Eden toward a dais in the back of the ballroom. On it sat two thrones of carved black wood. The back of each was a pair of bat wings, clasped at the top, and the cushions were of a deep blood red. Between them sat a small ruby-clothed table. As they ascended the two steps, a servant rushed up with a tray of drinks.

Eden plucked a glass, and Draven took up a goblet. Even her flute, though the drink sparkled within the glass, was crimson. She knew it was the pomegranate wine she’d had with dinner before. It was her favorite.

Draven’s fingers flexed against Eden’s hip, but his eyes never met hers as he scanned the faces in attendance.

“My friends, my family, it has been far too long since we were all last gathered here together in a festive manner, and I want to thank you for your presence. However, you have been called here tonight not just for idle amusements but for a greater purpose. For almost three thousand years, I have ruled over this land both proudly and fiercely, never regretting my initial journey into the darkness. But it is time that I no longer ruled alone. Tonight, I wish to introduce to you Lady Eden Damaris, my betrothed and the future queen of Andhera. Just as you have offered loyalty and respect to me, you shall show the same to her.” Draven lifted his goblet in the air, ruby blood glistening in the candlelight. “Raise your glasses in celebration, and tonight, let us welcome her in true Andherian fashion. Eat, drink, and dance with hearty abandon. To our queen!” Draven brought his goblet to his lips and took a sip.

Eden’s fingers clenched the stem of her wineglass at his words. Even though she knew the truth, not once had Draven mentioned their union or what would be expected of her. She took a greedy sip from her glass and set it down on the table as she claimed her throne for the first time. If she wasn’t careful, she’d drink more than she was capable of.

Luckily, beneath the table, goblins fretted over the skirt of Eden’s gown, distracting her from the raging storm of mixed emotions. A few times, she gifted the goblins morsels from her plate as the food was served. It was too much for Eden, and they cooed their appreciation.

“Well, now you’re only spoiling them,” Draven drawled, sighing as if he were displeased, but the subtle tilt of his lip said otherwise.

Eden continued feeding them even as he spoke. “This is how I’ll win them over. I can’t offer my jewelry to them continuously.”

He turned to face her, lifting a brow. “Why would you offer them anything?”

Eden’s brow furrowed, and she studied his face, wondering if he were only toying with her again. “It’s what friends do.”

After that, he said nothing else, only nursed his goblet.

Eventually, the food ceased, and the music took on a lively beat. Eden watched as the guests filled the dance floor, smiling to herself. They were enjoying themselves, vampires, were-creatures, and otherwise. A melding of species, and Eden thought it was no different from home.

The shift of Draven’s body caught her attention, and much to her surprise, he offered his hand. “Shall we?”

She nodded and took his outstretched hand. His arm slipped around her waist as he led her to the center of the throng, then drew her against him until their bodies were flush.

His form-fitting clothing didn’t leave much to Eden’s imagination as far as what his muscles felt like. Every angle of him was hard, like he’d been crafted of stone. She knew what lay beneath, had seen his well-toned torso on display, hovering above her as they sparred.

Eden’s breath quickened as he invaded all of her senses. He smelled of woods and lavender, with a hint of a metallic tinge. It was the latter scent she could nearly taste as he leaned into her. Draven was overwhelming her, even more so as he spun her around so her backside was flush with his front.

Eden wouldn’t complain, for it was thrilling and she yearned to experience more of his touches.

Draven dragged the back of his hand down her side, which brought forth an involuntary gasp. Heat bloomed from the trail, and Eden wondered what he was doing. Was this a show for his people? He spun her around to face him again, and she decided she didn’t care whether it was a ploy or not. Not in that moment, as the music played and their bodies were so close to one another.

When Eden’s feet grew sore, her legs too tired to keep her upright, and her lungs burned for air, she reclaimed her place on the dais and drank down the rest of her wine.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Draven leaned to the side, slipping his arm around the back of her throne. He cocked his head, far more attentive than he typically was.

Eden’s cheeks reddened, but she was thankful for the distraction of a goblin scurrying up the back of Draven’s throne. The creature perched there for a time.

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had as much fun.” She leaned on the arm of her throne, which brought her face mere inches from Draven’s. Maybe it was the rush of the evening, but something sprouted within Eden’s chest. A warmth that hadn’t been there before, and it filled her with glee. What it was, she wasn’t certain, but it was far more intoxicating than the pomegranate wine.

He yanked back, cursing as he slapped a hand against his neck. “Damn you.” It sounded like both a question and statement. Confusion and anger blossomed on his features. “You bit me. What has gotten into you, Gruff?”

Eden grabbed her napkin from the table, then stood so she could get a closer look at the wound. “Let me see it.”

Draven lowered his hand. Blood drizzled down his skin, running beneath the fabric of his collar.

“That is a decent bite,” Eden murmured as she hovered over him, dabbing at the blood. “Just a moment.” She brushed her fingers down his throat, then slid toward the back of his neck so her palm lay against the wound. Eden didn’t chance a look into his eyes, not trusting herself with as much wine as she’d had.

A familiar thrum of magic passed from her into Draven. She bit her bottom lip and withdrew her hand as his skin wove together again as if nothing had been there moments ago.

“Thank you,” Draven murmured, looking surprised but pleased. “I would have healed by tomorrow.”

Eden only nodded and pressed against the side of her throne. She was immediately met by a familiar face. Mynata.

“I’ve come to toast the both of you.” Mynata brought forth a goblet of blood for Draven and a glass of wine for Eden. “To King Draven and his lovely bride, Lady Eden. May your lives be full of delicious moments.” Mynata shimmied her hips, laughing. “And may you shower one another with equal respect.” She bowed her head, taking her own goblet and downing it.

Eden didn’t trust Mynata, but in a room full of people, what else could she do but smile and act as though her words touched her. She took a long sip of the wine, which she thought tasted far sweeter than the other glasses she had already consumed, but perhaps she was tumbling into her cups a little too quickly.

Mynata nodded to them, then slid off into the crowd.

“Would you care to dance more?”

The sound of Draven’s voice snapped her from the mounting desire to seek Mynata out and have words with her.

“No, I can’t possibly dance any more. If I do, my feet will fall off, and you’ll be forced to carry me out.”

Draven tipped his head toward the door. “I can think of worse ways to end an evening.”

Eden’s face contorted into a mixture of amusement and horror. “What?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ll tell you a story.”

It was a tale of one of the banquets in Castle Aasha. A member of the noble court had decided to test Draven, and it ended in a brawl. The young were-wolf who’d thought to make a stand against his king soon found himself without an arm—the very arm he had raised against Draven.

By the end of the tale, Eden had grown quiet but not horrified as she once would have been. None should have raised an arm to a king without expecting a fight.

“So that was how the night ended?” Eden pressed.

“No, the night ended with a head rolling out that door.” He motioned toward where they’d entered from. “So, me carrying you out that door without your feet wouldn’t be the worst thing to have transpired here.”

A laugh bubbled in her throat until she couldn’t contain it. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but her shoulders still shook.

Soon, members of the room began to approach the dais, congratulating them and welcoming Eden to Andhera. The minutes passed into a blur, and she wasn’t certain if it had actually been hours instead. But as time ticked on, she began to hear the thrumming of her heart in her ears.

Eden eyed her full wine glass. Clearly she had been partaking in too much of the sweet drink.

Just as she mentally berated herself, Draven’s hand moved into her peripheral, and he tucked a few loose strands of hair back into place.

Eden clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. A flood of heat entered her body, but it stemmed from her center. It only intensified as Draven’s fingers brushed the inside of her wrist.

What is wrong with me? Eden lifted her hand, pressing the necklace into her skin. The coolness bit into her flesh, but it kept her from focusing on where she yearned to have Draven’s hands.

The music paused, which brought the noise of the ballroom to a soft hum. But as the slow whine of a violin filled the room, it was too much. Eden pulled her hand away from Draven, then without a word, she bolted from the room. She couldn’t endure it any longer, the mounting need to know what his lips would feel like against hers or on her skin.

“Eden!” Draven hissed her name.

It didn’t stop her from walking away briskly. If she spoke right now, who knew what would come out?

“Why are you always running away?” he called to her, teasing, but uncertainty had crept into his voice. He followed her into an alcove not far from the ballroom.

Eden spun to face him just as he grabbed her by the elbow to turn her around. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she drank in his features. The beautiful sharp angles, the tilt of his lips, and the light within his gaze. The last glimmer of Lucem shone within them.

She lifted her hands, at first placing them against his chest. “I don’t know,” she murmured.

“Are you all right?” Draven breathed, slipping his hands to rest on either side of her waist.

The simple gesture was enough to undo her. Eden leaned forward, pressed her lips against his, and discovered what the king of Andhera tasted like.

She inhaled the metallic sweetness of him, and encouraged by his arms wrapping around her, she pressed on, allowing her tongue to slip into his mouth.

Draven groaned as Eden wound her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair as their bodies pressed closer than they had been on the dance floor. She moaned into his mouth as he pulled her hips flush against his and his hardened length pressed into her.

In all her life in Lucem, she had never been so heated. It spread from within, awakening a piece of her that had been asleep for far too long.

“Eden,” Draven rasped into her mouth, his grip tightening on her, which only brought forth moans of excitement.

Her name lingered on his lips, causing an ache to form in her body. “Draven, please,” she panted, uncertain of what she meant by it. But her body knew exactly what she meant. She wanted him to peel the layers of her clothing off and show her a world of pleasure as their skin melded with one another. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she lost herself in the feeling of his mouth on hers.