Chapter CLXIII: A man’s nature

The library was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows stretching across stone walls carved with the history of the Stormlands. The night air was cool, and the distant rumble of the sea outside hinted at the tempestuous nature of the land and its lord. Rya hadn’t intended to stay long; she just needed a place to collect her thoughts, to plan her next move in the increasingly hostile negotiations with Lord Belton. She ran her fingers over the worn leather bindings of the ancient tomes, seeking solace in the familiarity of books even in such an unknown territory.

The heavy door creaked open, and her heart leaped into her throat. Before she could turn, the steady sound of boots crossing the threshold made her pulse quicken. Lord Belton’s presence filled the room before he even spoke. He walked in as if he owned not just Stormspire but the very air she breathed.

“Princess,” he said, his voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver down her spine. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Are the linens of your chambers not to your liking?”

Rya’s spine stiffened, and she turned slowly to face him. The firelight caught on his features—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted with the shadow of stubble, and dark hair that fell just shy of unruly. His eyes, an unsettling shade of blue, held a spark of amusement that made her fists clench.

“I’m just exploring the place, Lord Belton,” she said, masking her nervousness with a steady voice. She straightened, reminding herself that she was the Dragon King’s daughter, here on his orders. She outranked him, even in his own castle.

Belton stepped closer, the leather of his tunic creaking as he folded his arms across his chest. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said, the smirk on his lips both infuriating and infatuating. “Is that what brings you here? Exploring? Or is it frustration over today’s little skirmish?”

Heat flared in Rya’s cheeks, and she cursed her own reaction. His taunts always found a way under her skin, but the way he stood there, so effortlessly commanding, made it worse. “I’d hardly call your stubbornness to negotiate a skirmish. More like a child throwing a tantrum.”

Belton’s smirk widened, but there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at something deeper, sharper. “Careful, Princess. Stormspire has sharp edges, and not all of them are visible.”

She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “Stormspire and all its sharp edges know better than to play with fire, milord. You’re the one who should be careful.”

A beat of silence hung between them, heavy and crackling with tension. Belton’s gaze raked over her, taking in the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and the way her eyes, fierce and unyielding, met his without flinching. The corner of his mouth lifted, but this time it wasn’t just amusement—it was something more searching, more conflicted.

“You’re different from what I heard,” he said quietly, stepping even closer until the space between them was a breath. “I expected the Dragon Princess to be... softer.”

Rya’s heart pounded at his nearness, the heat from his body mingling with the cold drafts that swept through the library. His proximity made it hard to think, and that infuriated her. “I grew up with lots of brothers, I doubt there’s anything soft about me, Lord Belton,” she said, her voice softer now, edged with challenge.

A flash of something passed across Belton’s eyes, something that made her breath catch. It felt like he immediately wondered about what could actually be soft in her. The tension twisted, not just in anger but in an attraction that felt as wild and dangerous as the storm outside. He reached past her, fingers brushing the spine of a book she hadn’t noticed before. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a thrill racing up her arm.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, pulling the book free and letting the moment stretch, charged and breathless. He leaned back, breaking the spell, but the room still felt warmer, tighter. “You should get some rest, Your Highness. Tomorrow, the games continue, and I wouldn’t want you at a disadvantage.”

The words were teasing, but the way he looked at her was different. With a final glance, he turned and strode out of the library, leaving Rya alone with her racing heart and the realization that the battle she’d come to fight was becoming far more personal than she had ever anticipated.

She touched her arm where his hand had almost brushed, a shiver lingering long after he was gone.

The night air of Stormspire village was heavy with salt and the promise of rain, the sea’s distant roar a never ending background noise. Lord Belton moved through the narrow, dimly lit streets with an easy familiarity, his cloak pulled tight against the wind. The brothel stood at the end of a crooked lane, its red lantern casting a sultry glow that welcomed him in with the promise of warmth and oblivion.

Inside, the familiar scent of spiced wine and lavender oil washed over him. Laughter and the low murmur of conversation filled the air as he made his way past the silk-draped alcoves. A slender, dark-haired woman appeared at his side, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come, milord,” she teased, leading him by the hand to one of the private chambers. The room was small but cozy, with tapestries covering the stone walls and a single candle flickering on a low table.

“Lina,” he acknowledged, sinking into the cushioned bench. She perched next to him, eyes studying his face with a knowing smile.

“You look troubled tonight, my lord,” Lina said, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm.
Belton shook his head, letting out a rough sigh. He hadn’t come here for conversation, yet the ghost of his encounter with Princess Rya in the library refused to leave him. He could still see the defiance in her emerald eyes, hear the slight catch in her breath when he leaned too close. The clash of wills between them had ignited something that simmered beneath his skin, refusing to be ignored.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered. But Lina arched her brow, her lips curving in a sly smile.

“Allow me to ease your troubles, my lord.”

Lina settled herself on Belton’s lap, the soft silk of her robe brushing against his skin. With practiced grace, she reached for the carafe of wine and poured a deep red stream into the polished silver goblet. Her eyes locked with his, a playful glint in their depths as she brought the cup to his lips, tilting it just enough for the wine to meet his mouth.

Belton felt the warmth spread through him, the sweet and spiced taste rolling over his tongue and trickling heat down his throat. The world around him blurred slightly, the tension of the day melting under Lina’s touch.

Her fingers traced down his chest as she leaned closer, whispering his name in a way that broke through the haze in his mind. Belton's hands found her waist, and he let himself be drawn into the rhythm of her movements, the warmth between them intensifying. Lina’s laughter was soft and lilting as she leaned back, drawing him deeper into her, a skilled performer at her art.

In that moment, surrounded by the shadows and flickering firelight, Belton let go of the storm in his mind, surrendering to the pull of raw desire. For a time, the thoughts of the dark-haired princess faded, leaving only the rush of blood and the heat of the present.

The room became warmer in the aftermath of their sex. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the rhythmic, gentle breath of Lina as she lay curled against Belton's chest. His hand absently traced patterns on her bare shoulder, but his mind was far from the present moment. The encounter had not brought him the peace he sought, and the embers of frustration still glowed beneath his skin.

Lina stirred, lifting her head to study his face. She traced a finger down the line of his jaw, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “You’re distant tonight, my lord,” she said softly. “Your thoughts aren’t here with me.”

He didn’t respond immediately, eyes fixed on the shifting shadows cast by the fire. “I told you it’s nothing,” he finally said, his voice rough and guarded.

She tilted her head, the dark waves of her hair falling over her shoulder. “Does this have to do with the Dragon Princess’ visit?” Her eyes twinkled with curiosity, the name spoken like a secret between them. “Word travels fast in Stormspire. People say she’s as beautiful as her mother was in her youth.”

Belton’s jaw clenched, the reminder igniting a spark of irritation. “She’s pretty,” he said, though the memory of Rya’s fierce eyes and the way she held her ground in the library came unbidden. “But in the end she’s nothing more than a spoiled child playing politics. Her father sending her here was both a joke and an insult to me.”

Lina’s laugh was soft, teasing. “And yet, she troubles you,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over his chest. “I can see it in your eyes, I can feel she’s messing with you.”

Belton’s eyes darkened as he turned to face her, his expression hardening. “You misunderstand,” he said, the lie clear even to himself. “She’s just a problem, one I need to manage and send back to the capital empty-handed.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. “But you want more than that, don’t you?” she said, her voice barely above a murmur. “You want her…”

The image flashed through his mind, unbidden but vivid—Rya standing undone, surrendering to him, saying his name in a voice stripped of its regal pride. The thought sent a shiver through him, one that Lina caught. Her eyes glimmered with amusement.

“I have enough problems of my own, Lina,” he said dismissively, though the sharpness of his tone betrayed him. “I don’t need to add ‘defiling the Dragon King’s daughter’ to the list.”

“It would be fitting revenge,” she continued, the hint of a smirk on her lips, “for what the Dragon King did to the Stormlands…”

Belton's eyes narrowed, though not in anger at her suggestion, but at the turmoil the thought sparked within him. “I’m not looking for revenge,” he lied again. “I am loyal to the crown. I just need to send her back to her daddy empty handed, so when the Dragon King sends someone else, or comes here himself, I can make much more expensive demands.”

“Well, I’m curious…” Lina whispered, resting her head back on his chest, “if the princess is as beautiful as they’ve been talking about… Isn’t there a part of yourself that would be willing to face the Dragon’s wrath just have her? I’m pretty sure most men in Stormspire would…”

Belton’s gaze returned to the fire, its flames dancing in restless defiance. No, he wasn’t looking for revenge, not really. But Rya’s presence had become more than an inconvenience; it was a challenge, a battle he couldn’t afford to lose, and yet wasn’t sure he wanted to win on the terms he once believed.