Chapter 7 I Keep on Falling...

I’m not sure why I agreed to this. Felix is just so soft, so easy. He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed before crawling on the bed himself. The bed shifts as he climbs onto it, settling in behind her.

He was close, too close. 

I suck in a breath, my hands clenching into the fabric of my dress. He’s there, on his knees, his inner thighs brushing against the side of my backside. 

“You don’t have to be so tense,” Felix murmurs.

“I’m not tense,” I reply automatically defensive. 

There’s a pause, then he softly says, “you are. Nervous?” 

I exhale, forcing the tension from my shoulders. I say, “just, don’t pull please.”

Felix chuckles. “I won’t.” 

Felix’s hands touch her hair, moving from the top and working through any knots that have made themselves present in the short period of time between now and my bath. I don’t know what I expected. A sharp tug? Carefully pulling like most of the attendants used to? No, there’s just a gentle separation of strands, treating my hair like it’s something to be cared for, not dealt with. 

I close my eyes as his fingers shift, slightly massaging my scalp before his fingers gather my hair into sections. The motion is steady, like he’s done this many times before. Well, he had said he learned from his sisters.

Warmth spreads through my chest, then lower, then everywhere. I lean into his hands, my thoughts slipping further and further away with each gentle pass of his hands. His fingers brush the back of my neck, sending a quiet shiver through me. I don’t stiffen this time, don’t pull away. 

If he notices, he doesn’t comment, nor does he hesitate. The braid begins to take shape behind me, though I barely notice. All I can feel is the warmth of him at my back, the steady presence of his legs pressed against me, and his hands in my hair.

I can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric at my shoulders, close enough that every small movement registered. Every shift of his hands, every subtle change in pressure… 

Then he starts humming. It’s soft and low, a tune I’ve never heard before. It isn’t like the songs from home. There’s no sharp rise and fall, no distinct pattern. It flows instead, like the forest itself or something to be carried through the wind rather than actually singing.

There are no thoughts, no nothing. There’s nothing beyond here and now except for his hands in her hair and the melody wrapping around my thoughts. His fingers brush the back of my neck again as he secures the end of the braid, the lightest touch sending shivers through me. I don’t try to hide it, too comfortable against him to care.

His humming slows, finishing the tune before it fades off under his breath. He makes no attempt to move away from me, letting me lean slightly back against his knees and back.  Neither of us speak; neither of us moves. 

He’s the first to speak, though it’s almost in a whisper, “it’s done.” 

“Thank you,” I whisper out, opening my eyes. I don’t dare glance back at him, not trusting my face at all. There’s a soft chuckle behind me, and I smile despite myself. 

“Why would I not help my wife-to-be?” 

I hesitate before saying, “I’ve never known a man to be so helpful, husband or not.” 

The word hangs in the air between us. The bed shifts behind me, and he’s up, walking around until he finds the boots and stockings that have been left out for me. My heart hammers in my ears as he kneels down before me. 

“Perhaps,” Felix says, smiling as he picks up my foot. He rests it on his shoulder, smiling as he gathers the stocking and gingerly slides in over my foot and up my leg, his hands grazing over my calf. “You have been surrounding yourself with the wrong men.”

I smile, tilting my head as he moves to the other foot. 

“Maybe I have.”

His eyes lift up to mine, smiling slightly as he grabs the boots. After he has them tied, he stands, offering his hands. My smile never seems to disappear as I take his hands, letting him pull me up and toward the door leading outside into the high sun. He keeps one hand firmly holding mine, leading me down the walkway and back toward the base of the tree. 

The path downward feels easier than the climb from the night before. Always the gentleman, Felix keeps himself between me and the drop, walking easily as if he isn’t moments from death at one wrong step. I can hear the voices of the court the farther we go down, a murmur of voices drifting upward through the branches. 

I glance around over the edge, the forest stretching out in a sea of green, broken only by the bridges stitching the trees together. Lights drifted easily between them, rising and falling as if following those who walk across. 

I had expected something entirely different, some dark fortress hidden in the depths of some horrific crater. I keep waiting for reminders that I don’t belong here, reminders of the harsh stories I grew up hearing. 

“What are you thinking?” Felix asks softly. 

I blink, tilting my head up toward his face, “what?”

He smiles, warm and easy, “you have a look. What’s on your mind?” 

“What look?”

“Your eyebrows are just squished together, and you’re pouting,” he says, squeezing my hand. 

I huff out a laugh. 

“I thought this would be a lot worse,” I tell him. “You, the king, everything. It’s kind of…strange how nice it has been.”

Felix doesn’t interrupt, just smiles as he waits. 

“I thought it would feel,” I pause, searching for the right word, “like I was being stolen.”

"It doesn’t?” Felix asks. 

“No,” I say, and I find that I actually mean it. The admission feels strange to me, almost like I should be ashamed of it. I can’t, though, feel too ashamed when Felix is looking down at me with that smile.  

“I’m glad,” he replies. 

I study him for a moment, my steps slowing slightly. Felix notices immediately and stops, tilting his head down at her. I fold my arms across my chest, “you don’t seem surprised.”

“Can’t say I am.”

“Why?”

“This place isn’t meant to take anything from you,” he says. “I’ve never thought of the forest as something that takes, but rather something that gives.”

“What about you?” I ask him.

“What about me?” He asks. 

“You are in this as much as me,” I shrug, “does it not bother you to be forced to marry someone you didn’t choose? Someone you don’t know?” 

“I’ve been raised knowing that I would be arranged to wed,” he shrugs. “You get used to it.” 

“That doesn’t make it easier, does it?” I ask him.  

“Once I saw you,” he says, chuckling a bit, “and you stumbled into my arms, any fear or dismay was lost. There’s something about you, Alaina, that makes this whole thing easy.”

“Of course you had to bring up me falling,” I laugh, pushing his shoulder. He laughs as well, pushing mine. I took a step back, laughing. My foot catching on something, my body falling toward the edge of the walkway.