Chapter 17: The Carriage Ride
The carriage wheels hit a deep rut, jolting Liliana violently against Apollo’s lap. His hands, already gripping her hips possessively, tightened like iron bands, holding her steady as he drove up into her with another deep, relentless thrust. The air punched out of her lungs in a sharp gasp she barely muffled against the velvet curtain pressed to her cheek. Outside, the blurred greens of the countryside were giving way to scattered farmsteads. They were getting closer.
"Fuck," Apollo breathed against her ear, his voice rough, strained. His breath was scorching on her sweat-dampened skin. Her body trembled, caught between the rhythmic rocking of the carriage and the insistent pounding of his hips beneath her. She could feel every ridge, every vein of him inside her, stretching her impossibly full. Another moan threatened to escape, low and guttural, but she choked it back, biting down hard on her bottom lip until she tasted copper.
He felt it – the tension in her throat, the stifled vibration. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her back. "Trying to hold your voice back again?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His next thrust punctuated the words, deeper, sharper, forcing a choked whimper past her defenses. "It just makes me want to make you scream more." Another brutal thrust. Her hands, braced on his knees for leverage, slipped slightly on the smooth fabric of his trousers.
A particularly loud moan escaped her then, raw and desperate. She clamped her teeth back onto her lip, the metallic tang sharp. Apollo’s hand slid instantly from her hip, gliding up the sweat-slicked plane of her stomach, over the frantic flutter of her ribs, and closed firmly around her throat. Not choking, but claiming. Possessing. He pulled her back sharply against his chest, arching her spine. The sudden shift in angle made her gasp aloud.
"Better," he growled. His other hand released her hip and slid down, anchoring firmly behind her knee, lifting her leg higher. He hooked his other arm under her other thigh, lifting her entire weight effortlessly. Suspended, pinned against him, she was utterly open to him. He drove into her with renewed force, deeper than before, each thrust a claiming. The rhythmic slap of skin against skin filled the confined space, louder than the carriage wheels now.
"Apollo," Liliana gasped, her voice strained against the pressure of his hand. "Stop... you can't... you can't cum in me today." The words were ragged, urgent.
He didn't slow. Didn't falter. "Why?" The question was clipped, breathless, punctuated by another driving thrust that made her toes curl inside her boots.
"Too close... ovulation," she managed, her head swimming. The city gates were definitely visible now through the fluttering curtain edge – imposing stone arches crawling with guards. Panic flared, sharp and cold beneath the relentless heat coiling in her belly.
"Isn't of concern," Apollo stated flatly, his voice thick with intent. His grip on her throat tightened fractionally. Then, abruptly, he dropped her legs. Her knees hit the plush carriage seat with a soft thud. Before she could react, his hands slammed down onto her hips, forcing her down hard onto him as he surged upwards one final, devastating time.
She felt it. The hot, sudden flood deep inside her, thick pulses filling her with shocking pressure. The sensation was overwhelming, intrusive, triggering a violent clench deep within her own core. Her orgasm ripped through her, silent but seismic, a blinding white heat that stole her breath and vision. Her body convulsed around him, milking him as he emptied himself completely inside her, his own release shuddering through his powerful frame, a low groan escaping his lips against her hair.
For a heartbeat, there was only the frantic drumming of her own pulse in her ears, the sticky heat between her thighs, the heavy scent of sex and sweat, and the terrifying proximity of the city gates looming larger with every turn of the wheels. Apollo’s hands remained on her hips, heavy and possessive, his breathing ragged against her back.
Then, the sharp clatter of hooves on cobblestones replaced the softer rumble of dirt road. Shouts from the city guards echoed faintly outside. Reality crashed back in, cold and sharp. Liliana scrambled off him, her legs trembling violently, nearly buckling. She fumbled with the rumpled fabric of her uniform dress, pulling it down over her sticky thighs, her fingers shaking. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't bear the intensity she knew would be in those crystal blue eyes.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the carriage window, trying to steady her breathing, to cool her burning cheeks. Outside, the imposing stone archway of the city gate swallowed the road. Guards in imperial livery stood rigidly at attention. Delvin’s cheerful whistle drifted faintly from the driver's perch. The scent of baking bread and horse dung replaced wildflowers.
Apollo shifted beside her, the rustle of his fine clothes unbearably loud. He adjusted the drape of his shoulder wrap with deliberate calm, his expression smoothing back into its usual impassive mask. Only the faint flush high on his cheekbones betrayed what had just transpired.
Liliana squeezed her eyes shut. The pressure inside her, Apollo’s seed deep within, felt like a brand. A terrifying, undeniable consequence. The playful warrior, the secret daughter, felt utterly exposed. The palace awaited, a gilded cage where secrets were currency and hers now felt perilously close to spilling over. She kept her face turned resolutely towards the window, watching the familiar streets blur past, her body still humming with the aftershocks, her mind a whirlwind of panic and bewildered, treacherous heat. The carriage rolled through the gate, leaving the wild freedom of the road behind, plunging them back into the heart of the empire. And its secrets.
The carriage wheels scraped the final cobblestones before halting in the shadow of the palace’s grand entrance. The sudden stillness felt louder than the journey’s rattle. Liliana shoved the carriage door open almost before the footman could reach it, needing air, needing distance. Sunlight hit her face, momentarily blinding after the dim interior, but the sticky heat between her thighs was an inescapable reminder of Apollo’s possession. She stumbled slightly as her boots hit the paved courtyard, the sensation of being abruptly emptied making her legs feel weak. She kept her head down, focusing on the intricate pattern of the stones beneath her feet, avoiding the eyes she knew were watching. Apollo’s scent, musky and intimate, clung stubbornly to her skin.
Delvin stood beside his own horse, patting its neck. His whistle died the instant he saw the carriage door open and Liliana emerge, disheveled, her pink pigtails slightly askew, her white-and-gold uniform skirt unmistakably creased. His face, usually open and cheerful, drained of color. His jaw tightened, the knuckles white where he gripped the reins, the look of pure, gut-punched distress impossible for Liliana to miss even from the corner of her eye. She flinched inwardly. That look cut deeper than any blade. She forced herself to straighten, pulling her shoulders back, adopting the crisp posture of the Jaguar elite guard. A shield. A lie.
Apollo descended next, every movement radiating effortless, untouchable authority. He adjusted the gold band on his bicep, the sun catching the intricate metalwork, his long blonde hair falling perfectly around the dual gold chokers encircling his throat. He looked pristine, regal, untouched by the raw urgency of minutes before. The transformation was chilling. He stood tall, surveying the courtyard with cool, crystal-blue eyes, the epitome of the Crown Prince. Delvin snapped to attention, the salute sharp and precise, though his eyes remained fixed somewhere past Apollo's shoulder, avoiding Liliana entirely. "Your Highness," Delvin's voice was clipped, formal, stripped of its usual warmth. "Welcome back. The Imperial Family departed for the Summer Isles as scheduled two weeks ago."
"Good," Apollo acknowledged, his voice deep and even, betraying nothing of the panting intensity he'd just possessed. He didn't glance at Liliana. "And the preparations for the Tourney? Proceeding?"
Delvin kept his gaze forward, his posture rigid. "Well, Your Highness. Roster's full. Overflowing, even. The city’s buzzing like a kicked hornet’s nest." A flicker of professional pride managed to surface through his distress. "The prize... that one-of-a-kind gold and amber ring... it’s got everyone fired up. Especially with the Gift Season starting right after." He finally risked a glance towards the palace doors, desperate to escape the scene. "Security details are finalized. Jaguars are deployed."
"Excellent," Apollo murmured, his gaze sweeping over the bustling courtyard servants preparing to unload the carriage. He finally turned his head, just slightly, letting his eyes rest on Liliana’s stiff back as she walked briskly towards the servant's entrance, refusing the grand stairs. A faint, unreadable expression flickered across his face – satisfaction? Curiosity? – before vanishing. He moved towards the main palace doors, his stride long and assured. "See the reports are on my desk by dusk, Commander."
Delvin saluted again, the movement jerky. "At once, Your Highness." He watched Apollo disappear into the cool shadows of the palace, then his eyes snapped back to the smaller doorway Liliana had just vanished through. The distress on his face hardened into something colder, angrier. He clenched his fists, the leather reins groaning in his grip. He needed answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. Liliana felt the phantom pressure of Apollo’s release deep inside her with every step on the marble floors. The prize ring meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was the terrifying seed taking root within her, and the shattered look on Delvin's face. The palace walls, thick with centuries of secrets, seemed to close in. The Tourney was coming. Her carefully constructed world was already crumbling.
The palace stones felt unnervingly cold beneath Liliana’s thigh-high boots as she practically ran through the dim, tapestry-lined servants' corridor. Apollo’s scent, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him, clung stubbornly to her skin and hair, a mocking reminder of the raw possession in the carriage. She could still feel the phantom ache between her thighs, the sticky evidence cooling uncomfortably against her skin beneath the white-and-gold uniform. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, a frantic counterpoint to the terrifying knowledge blooming within her. Ovulation. Too close. The seed. It felt less like a possibility and more like a sentence. She needed a bath. She needed oblivion. She needed Delvin not to have seen.
Bursting through the familiar oak door leading to the Jaguars' residential wing, relief washed over her momentarily. Sanctuary. Almost. Her room was just down this hall. She fumbled with the ornate brass key, fingers slipping. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling. Finally, the lock clicked. She pushed the heavy door open just wide enough to slip inside, desperate to slam it shut on the world, on Apollo’s intensity, on Delvin’s shattered expression.
The door stopped dead an inch from closing. A boot, scuffed from the stables, jammed firmly in the gap. Before Liliana could react, the door was shoved violently inward, sending her stumbling back a step. Delvin stepped through, his broad frame filling the doorway, then kicked the door shut behind him with a finality that echoed in the small stone chamber. He turned the lock with a decisive click.
Liliana’s breath caught. "Delvin! What are you doing?" Her voice sounded too high, too thin.
He stood there, breathing heavily, his usual easy posture gone rigid. His eyes, normally warm green, were dark, stormy pools fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He raked a hand through his short, blonde hair. "What," he demanded, the word clipped, harsh, "is going on between you and the Prince?"
Liliana flinched as if struck. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, a flimsy shield. "Delvin, don't be absurd. It's nothing." She tried for dismissive, but it came out brittle.
"Nothing?" A harsh, humorless laugh escaped him. He took a step closer, the air crackling between them. "It didn't look like nothing, Liliana. Not when you stumbled out of that carriage looking like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Not with your hair like that, your uniform rumpled… smelling like him."
She scoffed, a desperate attempt to deflect. "Smelling like him? Gods, Delvin, you’re imagining things. He shared the carriage because the other one had a broken axle. It was expedient." She gestured vaguely, dismissively. "What exactly did it look like then?"
"I don't know!" Delvin snapped, frustration boiling over. He ran a hand down his face. "But I know this: No one shares the Crown Prince's carriage. Ever. Not his advisors, not visiting dignitaries. He even rides apart from his own father most of the time. And suddenly you do?" He took another step, invading her personal space. "You expect me to believe it was just a shared ride?"
"So I got the special treatment today," Liliana shot back, her own frustration rising to meet his. She met his stormy gaze, chin jutting out defiantly. "You're reading way too much into a simple carriage ride, Delvin."
His eyes narrowed. "No," he stated, low and dangerous. "I think I'm reading into it just enough." He searched her face, the disbelief hardening into something colder, sharper. "How could you, Lily? With him?"
Liliana rocked back slightly, genuinely taken aback by the venom in his tone. "How could I what? Delvin, it isn't like we were... dating. We shared a carriage. That's all you saw."
"Don't," he cut in, his voice dropping to a growl. "Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you." He gestured sharply towards the window, towards the palace beyond where Apollo resided. "And you have the nerve to remind me I'm engaged? Fine. Yes, I am. But that doesn't give you the right to throw this... this... whatever the hell it is, in my face! You have no right to tell me I have no right to be nosing around your business when it involves him!" He stepped even closer, forcing her back against the edge of her small writing desk. The scent of leather and horse and cold anger radiated from him. "I know you'd marry someone eventually, Lily. Be courted. I always knew that. But him?" He spat the word. "The Imperial Crown Prince? The man who ruined our lives?"
Liliana flinched again at the raw accusation. She shook her head, her pink curls bouncing. "He didn't ruin our lives, Delvin," she said, her voice quieter now, laced with a weary sadness that surprised even her. She looked down at her boots. "He just... sped up the inevitable. Our families made their choices. The consequences were coming, with or without Apollo."
Delvin stared at her, betrayal etching deep lines around his eyes. He shook his head slowly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I refuse to accept that," he ground out, each word deliberate, heavy. "Not him. Not Apollo."
A spark of irritation flared through Liliana's fatigue. "You're getting worked up over nothing!" she insisted, pushing off the desk to face him squarely. Her cheeks felt hot. "I'm likely nothing more than a passing fancy to him, Delvin. A novelty. The pink-haired guard who doesn't grovel. He'll tire of me eventually. They always do." The lie tasted bitter. Apollo’s intensity in the carriage, the possessiveness, the deliberate claiming, felt like the opposite of boredom.
Delvin looked at her, his expression shifting from anger to something utterly dejected. His broad shoulders slumped. He shook his head again, slowly, sadly. "No one ever tires of you, Lily," he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion that stole her breath. He met her eyes, a depth of feeling in his gaze she hadn't seen in years. "I've known you nearly every day of my life since we were kids. Playing in the ruins, hiding from tutors, training in the yards... I've been there. Every day." His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "And I've never, ever, come close to tiring of you."
The air left Liliana's lungs. Heat flooded her face, a fierce blush spreading from her neck to her hairline. His words, so unexpected, so direct, cut through her defenses like a knife. She couldn't hold his gaze. Her eyes darted away, fixing on a worn spot on the rug. Her heart hammered anew, but for a completely different, terrifying reason. "Delvin," she breathed, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, finding her voice again, thin and strained. "You... you can't say things like that."
Delvin stared at her, the raw vulnerability in his expression hardening into something fierce, almost desperate. His green eyes held hers, refusing to let her look away. "Why can't I?" he demanded, his voice low and thick. He stepped impossibly closer, invading the scant space between them, the scent of leather and sun-warmed skin replacing, for a heartbeat, the lingering sandalwood clinging to her. His breath ghosted warm across her cheek. "Because you'll have to face that you still love me, Liliana," he breathed, the words rough, urgent. "That you'll always love me."
His lips brushed hers, feather-light, sending an electric jolt through her core. Her heart clenched, a sharp, painful ache that stole her breath. For a few, agonizingly long beats, instinct took over. The years of shared secrets, childhood laughter echoing in castle ruins, the unwavering safety she’d always found in him – it all surged forward. She melted into the kiss, her trembling hand finding the solid warmth of his chest through the worn leather of his Jaguar tunic. It was familiar ground, a harbor in the storm Apollo had unleashed.
Then reality crashed back, colder than the palace stones. Apollo’s possessive heat, the terrifying potential consequence deep within her body, the crushing weight of their stations. She tore her lips away with a gasp, stumbling back until the edge of the heavy oak desk dug into her spine. "You have to leave, Delvin," she whispered, trembling violently, her voice raw. She couldn’t meet his wounded eyes. "Right now. You have to face the truth."
He stood frozen, confusion warring with the sting of rejection. "What truth? Lily—"
"The truth that no matter what, we were doomed!" The words burst out, louder than she intended, fueled by a desperate frustration. "From the very beginning! Don't you see?" She finally looked at him, her pink eyes burning with unshed tears and fierce conviction. "If the lie were true? If I really were just Liliana the commoner guard?" She gestured sharply towards the palace walls, towards the world Apollo ruled. "You would be so far above my station, I’d barely register as a speck of dust on your boot!"
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to continue, the logic a cold knife twisting in her own gut. "And if the real truth were known? If everyone knew I was the Grand Duke’s secret daughter?" A bitter laugh escaped her. "Then you, would be below mine. I’d be a political pawn, forced onto a marriage altar with some Prince, or Duke, or King from across the seas bethrothed before I even understood the word."
Delvin flinched as if struck, the color draining from his face. He opened his mouth, but Liliana pushed on, her voice trembling but relentless. "There is no world, Delvin, where we get to be. None. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you stop holding this pointless grudge against your commanding officer," her voice hitched slightly, "and the sooner you smother this… love you have for me…" She swallowed hard, the ache in her throat threatening to choke her. "The less painful it will be for everyone. Especially you. Now please. Go."
Silence crashed down, thick and suffocating. The only sound was Delvin’s ragged breathing and the distant clatter of hooves from the courtyard far below. He stared at her, the storm in his green eyes shifting into something bleak, shattered. The easy warmth, the protective fierceness, was gone, replaced by a dawning, desolate understanding. Her words, sharp and undeniable, hung in the air between them like jagged glass.
He didn't move. He just stood there, absorbing the brutal landscape she’d painted, the impossible chasm she’d carved. The playful glint in his eyes had vanished entirely, extinguished. Slowly, without a word, without meeting her gaze again, he turned. His hand fumbled with the lock for a second, the click unnaturally loud in the stillness. He pulled the heavy oak door open and stepped out into the dim corridor.
He didn’t look back. The door clicked shut softly behind him, leaving Liliana alone with the echo of her own devastating words and the phantom pressure of Apollo’s seed inside her. She sank down onto the cold floor, her back against the desk, burying her face in her hands. The tremors wouldn’t stop. The silence stretched, heavy and accusing, until it was suddenly shattered.