Summary: After years of solitude, Elsa now seeks to be the queen Arendelle deserves. But when Arendelle is invaded by a Southern King who is intent on deposing Elsa and claiming Arendelle, Elsa must muster all her courage to protect her country, and herself.

Chapter Five

- The Price of Sorcery -

Aedan was eight years old when the word "bastard" was first hurled towards him. One of the stablemaster's apprentices spat it, lips curling in distaste as he booted Aedan from the hayloft one wintery afternoon. His mother found him crying in his bedroom, and even though he initially refused to tell her what had transpired, she gently questioned him until it all came pouring out.

"It means that your father and I were never married," his mother explained. "It's only a word and they can't hurt you with it if you don't let them."

"But why do they want to?"

"I don't know, sweetling." His mother gathered him into her arms and held him close. "I don't know."

The memory faded and Aedan woke, thrashing and gnashing his teeth against the pain emanating from his wound. Something thick and soft had been forced into his mouth, choking him whenever he tried to swallow. A tempest wracked him, heat and bitter cold crashing over him in waves. He tried opening his eyes, but the light only made his head pound with renewed fury.

"Be still," someone commanded in a firm, yet gentle voice. A hand touched his forehead and cheeks. He wanted to see who it was, but he was too afraid to open his eyes.

"The fever's stuck in," a different, harsher voice said. "He won't last the night."

"He will," the first voice said with grave certainty. Then it was next to his ear again, whispering, "Scream if you need to."

I can't. The thought came and drifted away.

His wound exploded with fire, and Aedan screamed.

#

The next time he woke was better. Although the wound in his side throbbed painfully and his throat felt like it had not felt water in days. At least he could open his eyes without being blinded with pain. The pounding deep inside his head had vanished, and so had the urge to vomit; he felt so sweaty and dirty, and he struggled to move his hands or feet.

His vision blurred as he looked around. Soft candlelight illuminated the chamber, casting long shadows he couldn't quite make out. He blinked until he could focus on a single flame burning on a candlestick on the side table, then tried to lift his head.

"Don't move."

"I wasn't," rasped Aedan.

Red eyes glinted at him from a stool beside his bed, and a pair of violet-shaded lips smiled at him. "I save your life and your first waking words to me are lies?"

"Alexia?" Aedan tried to smile, but the movement cracked his parched lips. "Water?" he asked, swallowing painfully.

Alexia poured a cup from a jug dripping with condensation and held it to his lips. Aedan drank thirstily, spilling some down his chin in his haste. It was cold and refreshing and tasted faintly of honey. Aedan would have licked the final drops if Alexia hadn't pulled the cup away.

"More?"

"Only one," replied Alexia as she refilled the cup. Aedan drank slowly this time and made sure he didn't spill. "If you're still awake by next hour I'll give you more. You'll throw it all up if you drink too much now."

Aedan lifted his head, ignoring Alexia's click of disapproval. The bedsheets had been pushed to his waist, exposing the bloody bandages wrapped thickly around his chest. "How bad was it?" Aedan asked.

"You should be dead," the sorceress replied. "When it looked like you would survive the wound, your body writhed with fever. You've been in bed for days."

"What time is it?"

"A few hours before dawn."

"And you're still awake?"

"Someone needed to sit with you – to watch you in case you turned."

"How sweet."

Alexia's red eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I shouldn't have bothered."

"No," Aedan said quickly. His voice felt better now that it had been soothed by water. "I'm grateful, truly." A thought struck him, and Aedan was astonished it hadn't come to him sooner. "What happened?"

"Excuse me?" Alexia said.

"The war?" Aedan said. "Did we assault the city? Did your plan work?"

"Oh. We did, but you could hardly call it a battle. Elsa tried to flee into the city after her champion fell. She raised winter against us, but it was a small matter to subvert her magic. She is only a child, after-all. The vanguard seized the gates, and the fighting didn't last long after that. Many of the Arendellian soldiers lay down their swords when they saw their queen had been captured. Maximilian holds the city now."

"Does Elsa still live?"

"For now."

"And what about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Has Max heaped a thousand honours on your head for your service to the realm?"

"I've been too busy keeping you from death." Aedan held out his hand. Alexia glanced at it, before shifting forward on her stool to take it in both of hers.

"I suppose I owe you my life now, too."

"I suppose you do." An easy silence fell between them. Alexia stroked his hand with her thumbs and hummed an old lullaby that reminded Aedan of home. A yawn flooded him, along with such a powerful exhaustion he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Stop it," he said drowsily.

"You need to sleep."

"I've slept for too long."

"You're still very weak." Alexia smoothed back his hair, leaned over him, and kissed his forehead. "You'll need your strength for what's to come. Fear not, sweetling. I'll watch over you."

Aedan's eyes became lidded, and his mind filled with memories of his youth, and how his mother would comfort him much like this. "You're fond of me, aren't you?" Aedan would have smiled at her, but he had already crossed the edge. He closed his eyes and his head rolled to the side.

#

When Aedan was strong enough to stand, he wandered over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom and gaped in astonishment. His muscles were shrunken and veiny, straining against skin so pale and tight it pulled against his bones. His cheeks were sunken hollows and his eyes seemed larger and rounder than he had ever seen them before. His back arched like an old man. He made himself stand straighter, throwing his shoulders back, but it wasn't much of an improvement.

"What happened to me?" he asked Alexia when she returned with Maximilian's physician to inspect his stitches and remove the bandages supporting his ribs.

"Magical healing has its price," Alexia told him as she appraised him. "Most of the power had to come from you, and you were already so far gone. . . Shrunken muscles are better than the alternative, no?"

Aedan supposed it was at that.

"You'll be hungry," said Alexia. "I'll make sure you are sent another tray from the kitchens. And you're to eat every bite put in front of you. You won't recover until your body replaces what was taken to fuel the magic."

Aedan had devoured his breakfast not an hour ago, but it had done nothing to fill the hole gnawing at his insides.

Alexia made good on her word. A pair of servants knocked on his door at mid-morning carrying covered trays. Aedan pretended to be disinterested, and ignored the half-curious, half-horrified looks they gave him at the sight of his emaciated body. As soon as the door closed behind them, Aedan stumbled to the table and tossed the covers aside. He had expected broth, or soup, or whatever other things invalids had forced on them. Instead, one plate held slices of mutton roast piled thickly, with mustard and other sauces in small jars. On other plates were roasted potatoes and green vegetables of all different kinds; half a loaf of crusty bread and a dish of soft butter. The second tray held two silver pitchers. One was filled with milk and beaded with condensation, the other chilled wine. There was enough of everything for four men to eat to satisfaction. His mouth watered, and his stomach growled at him.

He rolled up a slice of mutton and dipped it in the mustard, then dragged the bedside stool over to the table so he could sit and think – or try to anyway. As it turned out the only thing he could focus on was the red-eyed sorceress who had saved his life. And with her face came a lovely warm feeling inside his chest that wouldn't go away. He could hardly remember the last time he had felt something similar.

They'd spoken more in the last three days than they had in the years since she'd come to Maximilian's court. She was interesting and witty and knew more about the world than anyone Aedan had met before. And she was beautiful, and dangerous in the kind of way that made Aedan giddy.

He finished the meat, then cut a thick slice of bread and buttered it before stuffing it into his mouth. His family would disapprove if anything were to happen between him and Alexia, but its not as if any of them had really cared what he got up to. If he stayed out of their way and didn't bother them, they might not even notice.

But that was before you became Max's herald. . . The thought nagged at him, but Aedan pushed it away as he shoved his mouth full of potatoes.

A brisk knock sounded on the door. Aedan barely had time to sweep a blanket across his shoulders before it thudded open. The man who entered was tall and broad-shouldered, with brown hair touched with yellow and green eyes the same colour of a forest in spring. Matrim Beoulve was the spitting image of the Lady Beoulve and shared little of his lord father's look. He looked Aedan up and down, taking in his lank hair, dishevelled appearance and full-to-bursting mouth.

"So, you are alive," Matrim said in a voice that could hardly be called warm. "The way the servants were talking I expected to see a walking corpse."

Aedan winced and swallowed his mouthful of food. "You don't need to sound so disappointed."

"Don't be sullen." Matrim let the door swing shut behind him and glanced around the bedchamber. "I heard the witch was in the kitchens earlier, ordering the cooks about." He looked at what remained of Aedan's mid-morning meal. "You play a dangerous game with her."

Aedan frowned. "I'm not playing any games. And besides, since when do you care what I do?"

"You are my brother," Matrim replied. "Of course I care."

"And yet you've never referred to me as your brother before."

"What did I tell you about being sullen?" Matrim said. "You've done Ovelia a great service. I'm proud to call you my brother, just as father is proud to call you his son."

Aedan upended the wine pitcher over his goblet and was surprised to find it empty. A warm fuzz surrounded his eyes – maybe it was a good thing there wasn't more. He filled the cup with milk instead. "Has father been to see me?"

"Once," Matrim said. "After we seized the city."

"Well . . . I suppose that's something."

"Bringing a kingdom like Arendelle into the fold is no easy task – father has been busy . . . which brings me to why I'm here. Father and King Maximilian hold court in the throne room, and they desire to speak to you now that you're walking again."

"I never thought you'd deign to be a messenger," Aedan said.

Matrim's eyes hardened. "I may be proud of you, but I won't allow you to turn that forked tongue on me. Now get dressed."

"Do you mind if I finish my meal first?"

Matrim glanced at the table. "Do you plan on eating the tablecloth too?"

Aedan looked at the trays, shocked. His fingers hovered over one of the plates, rummaging for something more to eat, but there was nothing left but smears and a few crumbs of bread and cheese. The pitchers were both drained dry. He should have been stuffed bursting with all that food in him, but he felt as if he'd hardly eaten at all.

Matrim waited with his back turned as Aedan shrugged into his clothes. His knees wobbled and threatened to buckle as he bent to retrieve his coat from the rack beside the door. Matrim must have noticed the weakness, for he sneered, but didn't say anything.

Familiar red coats filled the hallways of the palace. A pair stood in front of every doorway, and even more patrolled the hallways and grounds. The soldiers in the palace were miniscule compared to the sheer number patrolling the city, or so Matrim said. Many soldiers stopped to congratulate Aedan on his victory and survival, although their kind words were companioned with uneasy stared at his sunken cheeks and waif-like figure. Other soldiers pointedly ignored Aedan, avoiding his gaze when he walked past.

"What's their problem?" Aedan asked Matrim, after a soldier Aedan knew quite well ducked his head and increased his pace when Aedan called his name.

"You know how rumours are," Matrim said. "They've all heard how the witch has barely left your side and how her sorceries were used to pluck you from death."

"So, what? Do they think that I've been bewitched by some sort of spell?"

"Perhaps."

Aedan was relieved not every soldier in the army felt the same. While Matrim dealt with a messenger, Aedan exchanged words with a long-muscled soldier, who ran an oiled rag along the length of his sword.

"If that wasn't a name-worthy deed, I don't know what is," the soldier said from a bench at the end of a long hallway with lots of doorways on the first floor. "We'd probably still be stuck outside the gates with another sodding winter down our backside if you hadn't killed the witch's champion."

That had been on Aedan's mind too, but it was hardly something he wanted to discuss with Matrim within earshot. Then Matrim sent the messenger away, and they continued onto the throne room.

The blue crocus banners of Arendelle had been removed from the throne room. Ovelia's griffon banner replaced them on every wall, while the smaller banners of the noble houses hung from the rafters. Aedan spotted the roaring lion of House Beoulve next to House Ashaela's soaring eagle at prominent places near the throne. He also saw the lone tower of House Bastille and House Flavian's hanged man draped on either side of the great doorway. Maximilian wasn't sitting on the throne, as Aedan had expected, but instead sat at the head of a heavy table, speaking quietly to the four lord whose banners graced the hall.

"We may hold the capital, but we can hardly say we have the nation," Lord Ashaela said as Aedan and Matrim entered the hall. "I don't anticipate any trouble from the city's nobles, not with their sons and daughters as hostages."

"Yet there will certainly be trouble before we can return home," Lord Beoulve added. "Even now the lords not in the city attempt to rally the countryside against us. They argue that Elsa's death is assured regardless of what they do."

"And there's still those missing soldiers we need to contend with."

"Bah!" Maximilian exclaimed. "Two hundred men do not simply disappear! They are in the city somewhere and I want them found!"

Matrim cleared his throat and the men around the table turned to look at him. "Your Majesty, I've tripled the men in each patrol and established garrison posts throughout the city. It's only a matter of time until we find them."

Maximilian rose from his seat, and as he did so, Matrim lowered himself into a polite bow. Aedan followed suit, although the movement made his legs shake with fatigue.

"Ovelia's champion returns from death," Maximilian's voice boomed throughout the hall. "Stand, Ser." When Aedan stood (staggered), Maximilian placed a hand on his shoulder to help steady him and asked, "How do you fair?"

"As well as can be expected," replied Aedan. "But I'm afraid I would be finished if not for Alexia."

"Though it appears she exacted a steep price for her help. You're all skin and bones!"

"I can endure this," Aedan said. "At least I'm alive."

"True enough. Ah, before I forget, I have something for you." Maximilian strode back to the table and retrieved a sword in a silver-etched scabbard. "I took this from the battlefield. I thought you might like it."

Aedan took the sword and tucked the sheathe under his free arm. He awkwardly pulled the sword a few inches from its scabbard, revealing some of the pale blade that had nearly taken his life. Whisper had been cleaned and sharpened since his life blood had stained its blade. Aedan looked at his reflection in the steel and tried not to think of the moment when the sword had nearly killed him.

"Ser Lennox's sword is yours now," Maximilian said.

Aedan let Whisper fall back into its scabbard. "Thank you."

"You'll be further rewarded when we return home, but first we must get this kingdom in order. I believe we're almost done here." He directed his attention onto Matrim. "Lord Matrim, how does your investigation into those squirrels?"

Aedan smothered his grin as Matrim's face darkened. Alexia had mentioned the Arendellian children who roamed the streets and harried the Ovelian patrols. One of the soldiers had dubbed them squirrels after they broke into the harbour's storehouse one night and stole three sacks of roasted chestnuts."

"It's still ongoing," Matrim admitted.

"I heard they rolled a barrel of manure down a hill at one of your patrols last night," Lord Edward Beoulve said.

Aedan could not hold his snigger any longer. Matrim's ears went red and he shot Aedan a nasty look.

"At least it was only manure, not crossbow bolts," Maximilian said with a clap on Matrim's shoulder. He always knew when to rein a joke in before it went too far.

"You're right, my king," Matrim replied, inclining his head.

"Is that all?" Maximilian addressed the lords around the table.

"I believe so," Lord Ashaela replied.

"Good – we'll reconvene at the same time tomorrow." In a shuffle of chairs and papers, the lords rose and left. Aedan was about to follow when Maximilian drew him aside and said: "Hold a moment, Aedan. A word?"

"Of course."

Maximilian's voice became low, and he leaned in close as he said. "There has been gossip among the soldiers. Nonsense, I'm sure. But it concerns you and Alexia and conduct between you two which would be considered unwise."

"Conduct?" Aedan repeated.

"I'm told she visits you every night and often doesn't leave until the early hours of the morning."

"We're not fucking, if that's what you're trying to ask." Maximilian frowned at him, and Aedan felt pressured to explain. "We talk," he said.

"Talk?"

"That's all."

Maximilian leaned in as he said in a low voice. "I need you to trust me when I say you should be careful around that woman. She isn't someone you want to get involved with. Witches keep their own council, and Alexia is more cunning than most. If she's taken an interest in you, know that there is a reason for it."

"Maybe she just likes me?" Aedan said lightly, but Maximilian's eyes remained stern.

"Do not trust that everything Alexia says to you is the truth. You would not be the first may to fall victim to her schemes. Do you understand."

Aedan nodded, and tried to keep his face smooth from the rebellious petulance rising. He is your king, and your friend. Listen to him. "I understand."

"Good man." With that, Maximilian nodded his dismissal to Aedan and strode out of the hall.

Aedan watched him go. His stomach growled.

#

Alexia didn't visit him that night, nor did she come the night after. Each time the door to his chamber opened, Aedan looked up only to have his hopes dashed when the Steiner, Maximilian's grump of a physician, hobbled in to inspect his wound and dressings. He had been Aedan's only visitor, aside from the maids who brought him his feasts three times a day. Aedan devoured each one as though he hadn't eaten in days, only to feel his stomach grumble barely an hour later.

He slept both fitfully and fully, never knowing which night would bring what. One evening he barely made it to his bed after polishing off his dinner and was only awakened when the maids brought three bowls of honeyed porridge for his breakfast. Other nights he twisted and turned, reliving his duel with Ser Lennox blow for blow. The aged knight had been good – much better than Aedan had expected. And he hadn't even been Arendelle's best - if half the gossip he had heard about Evangeline Gwynedd was true. Other times he dreamed of Alexia, which always left him feeling frustrated and dissatisfied.

On the fifth night since Aedan's meeting with Maximilian, and with still only Steiner as the occasional visitor, Aedan had had enough. With his sheets tangled and sweaty, and with the cave in his stomach roaring again, he rose from bed, dressed, and walked out into the hallways intent on finding the kitchens.

Rain smashed against hallway windows, and gentle thunder rolled in the distance. The thought made Aedan chuckle. He never would have described thunder as gentle before, but after trudging through the snow with Elsa's magical storm roaring around him, this storm was little more than a kitten's purr compared to the roar of a lion. However, it was still enough to dampen the moonlight, and Aedan hadn't thought to bring a candle with him. So, he felt about in the dark until he found a staircase and followed it down – kitchens could always be found on the ground floor.

There was warmth and life inside Arendelle's main kitchen, even though it was only occupied by the night-cook and a trio of tired kitchen hands. The night cook, a stout woman in a dusty apron, took one long look at Aedan and brandished her rolling pin towards him like a sword.

"After an early breakfast, are you?" she demanded. "Well, you'll have to wait like everyone else in the palace."

Aedan breathed deeply through his nose, and the smell of fresh crusty bread filled it. It was an effort to tear his eyes away from the trays of bread rolls where they sat cooling on a bench by a row of fired ovens against one wall. "I'm sure you could spare a roll of two?" he asked and offered the cook his most winning smile. His skin stretched against his skull, and one of the kitchen hands recoiled.

"Not even if your king himself came into my kitchen in his dressing gown," the cook retorted. But then one of the hands muttered something to her in a low voice, and the cook's eyes widened. Her glare became appraising, and she took in Aedan's lean and sickly appearance. "So, you're the one who has been eating us out of house and home. I see what the girls have been saying." She tapped her rolling pin against her chin. "Well come on then, sit down, sit down, and when you're finished, you make sure to tell the lady sorceress that I did not turn you away."

"You have my thanks," Aedan said as courteously as he could while half-collapsing into a stool. It was the most he had walked since his duel.

One of the cook-hands slid a plate in front of him with two bread rolls and a trencher of soft butter in front of them. Aedan barely waited until he had slathered them with butter before tearing into them. He ate the two rolls within minutes and washed them down with a cup of cool milk before asking for more.

The cook and her helpers continued their work as if Aedan wasn't there, chatting and laughing as they baked. While the kitchen-hands kneaded dough and dusted the benchtops with flour, the cook assembled trays of food – brown stew that smelled of turnips and potato with thick slices of bread to go with it – and summoned castle maids to take the trays off to the guard house, or the watchtower, or the dungeons, or to one of the dozens of rooms inside the palace walls. Aedan had fulfilled his fair share of night duties before, and the midnight meals were often the only thing to look forward to on those long nights.

Aedan polished off a third roll and was reaching for a fourth when he realised the cavern in his stomach was no longer growling.

The night-cook noticed his pause – she seemed to have hawk-like eyes for everything that went on in her kitchen. "Are you finished then? If you are, then off with you. We've two-hundred more loaves to bake before morning and can't have you getting in the way of that!"

Before Aedan could straighten his coat, the cook had him up out of his chair and hustled him out of the kitchen.

He returned to the staircase, but the thought of going back to his room did not appeal to him at all. Instead of leaving the staircase on the third floor where his chamber was, Aedan continued to climb. It wasn't as though he made a conscious decision to continue upwards, instead invisible strings tied around his limbs and carried him forward. His path took him up another two flights of stairs, then down a narrow hallway to another staircase. This one was circular, and not used regularly, for the candlesticks weren't lit to guide his way. He followed these stairs up into the darkness, until he came to a door. Firelight oozed from the cracks in the doorway and cast the landing in deep shadows.

I can feel her, Aedan realised, startled. Her heart pulsed gently in his ears and filled his body with warmth. Even his exhaustion was forgotten – though his legs shook from the unexpected exertion.

He hesitated, hand poised to knock, Maximilian's warning a pale voice in the back of his mind. Did he really want this? His family certainly wouldn't approve, and it had taken years to gather what little approval for him they had. Did he really want to risk throwing that away for a woman? He would be defying his king too, not that Maximilian had explicitly told him not to get involved with Alexia – but the warning had been clear.

Before he could make his decision, the chamber door opened, and Alexia emerged from within. She wore only a silk robe, tied around her waist with a sash. Her hair fell to her shoulders in soft ringlets, framing her pale, heart-shaped face. Her lips, still touched with violet, curved at the sight of him, and her eyes seemed to bore into his. Aedan's mouth gaped, and for once in his life he was completely lost for words. Every dream he had had of her over the last week came flooding into his mind, and it was as though Alexia knew it too, for her smile deepened. Blood, she is beautiful!

"Would you like some tea, Aedan?" Alexia asked. If she was surprised to find him outside of her room, she showed no sign.

"I. . ." Aedan swallowed. "That would be lovely."

The fire burned gently in the hearth, and dozens of lit candles on the mantle, table and bedside illuminated the room in a warm glow. The heady scent of Alexia's perfume combined with the smoke and hung thickly in the air. Two cups of freshly brewed tea were already on the table. Alexia handed one to Aedan and guided him to the chaise, where she sat down beside him.

"Were you expecting me?" Aedan asked.

"I could feel you coming."

"How?"

"It was the healing," Alexia explained. She placed her hand over his wound. "The magic creates a bond between the healer and healed. I felt your coming in the same manner as you could feel where I was in the castle. Blessed magic often has such quirks."

"Blessed magic?"

"A gift from the Almighty," Alexia said. "Although I doubt the Dedicated of the Grand Cathedral see it the same way."

Aedan sipped his tea – it tasted of sweet lemon. "Is the bond permanent?"

Alexia's eyes glittered with amusement. "No, sweetling," she said. "As you heal the bond will weaken, until I am nothing more than a memory of an impression in the back of your mind."

Once more, Aedan drifted, and the memory of his mother's living room came to him. When was the last time he had seen his mother? Hadn't she like tea like this, with lemon and allspice sweetened with honey?

"Why did you come find me tonight, sweetling?" Alexia's hand curled around his neck and played with his hair.

"I . . ." I missed you.

"Is that all?"

No.

His clothes felt uncomfortably tight. The heat wafted over him and dried his throat. He went to drink more tea and was startled to find his cup empty. Alexia leaned forward to take it, and a soft scent which reminded him of gooseberries filled his nose. A buzz filled his head, and it would not leave him even as he tried to blink it away.

Have I been. . .? The thought came and slipped away before he could take hold it. He leaned backwards and felt his back hit the cushions.

Then Alexia was in front of him. Her robe was gone, discarded on the floor beside the table. When did she. . .? But that thought vanished too – not that Aedan cared to retrieve it. She straddled him and sought his mouth with hers. His tongue flicked out to meet hers. Every touch sent fiery tingles through his body, filling him with light and warmth.

Then they were on her bed – Aedan's clothes in a pile in front of the fire. Alexia kissed her way down his body, spreading her warmth on his neck and chest, before stopping at his wound. She kissed it, and red eyes gleamed up at him as she slipped down further and took him into her mouth.

Thunder boomed around the castle and bolts of lightning flashed through the stained-glass windows. The heavy rain dampened the noise from the yard and the courtyard below and the winds took what was left.

Aedan leaned forward to gather Alexia's hair in his hand, he smoothed it back and saw her eyes gleaming up at him. The movement stretched his wound, and he grimaced even as waves of pleasure made him catch his breath.

Alexia pushed him backwards and slid upwards to kiss his neck.

"Max told me to stay away from you," Aedan blurted out.

Alexia paused and pulled away enough to look at him. She continued to play with his hair with one hand, while her other stroked idly low on his torso. "Is that so?" she asked. "Do you always think of your king before coupling? I didn't think you were that patriotic."

Aedan couldn't help but laugh. "It's not that."

Alexia kissed him deeply, and when she pulled away Aedan was breathless. "Do you want to stay away from me, Aedan?"

"No," he said, certainly. "But. . ." But what?

"But you're concerned about what people think when they hear you are a sorceress's lover?"

"Is that what we are?"

Alexia smiled wickedly. "Not yet," she whispered. The flames in the fireplace flickered brightly as Alexia reached down, took him in her hand and positioned herself gently. A pleased, satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she lowered herself onto him.

As warmth spread throughout Aedan's body, he forgot all about Maximilian and his warning.