Summary: After the final battle, Kenna and Diavolos take some time for themselves. A little reimagining of the book after the final battle. This is a follow up to Show Me.
After Luther’s attack on her, Kenna decides to delay the celebratory banquet a few days. She feels fine, despite a few burning instances of pain in her shoulder every now and then, but there are several injured troops and the healers are swamped tending to them, and she wants to wait for the festivities until things have calmed down a little bit.
Annelyse and Madeline keep urging her to rest, to take it easy, but Kenna’s never been one for sitting still for long. She makes it one day trying to rest before she starts to get bored. The weather is nice, and she wants to go for a ride, but she knows her injured shoulder will protest doing that alone. Diavolos offers to take her when he sees her pacing around the castle.
“You’re making me restless,” he says, flashing her a teasing grin as they walk out to the stables.
“I’ve not used to sitting in the castle doing nothing,” she explains.
She watches him ready a horse (not Hector’s Shadow, because, Diavolos says, “Your arm will thank you for not riding him later”), and then he lifts her effortlessly into the saddle, climbing up behind her. His arms are solid and strong around her, the reins flowing through his hands, and Kenna lets her head rest back against his shoulder as they head out. His chest vibrates against her back when he laughs.
“Are you comfortable, Your Majesty?”
Kenna grins, tilting her head up to look at him. “Maybe.”
He cranes his head down enough to kiss her briefly, and she can feel him smile.
They ride through the fields and around the castle, and after a while she directs him a little ways into the woods to one of her favorite spots, a flat, grassy patch amongst the trees that fills with wildflowers in the spring. The only sounds are a gentle wind that’s picked up and the creek burbling quietly nearby. Diavolos leads them to the creek bank, then dismounts and helps Kenna down.
The grass is cool against her skin as they recline back on it, Kenna staring up at the nearly cloudless sky. She lets out a contented sigh, closing her eyes, then opens them again and turns her head to the side when she senses Diavolos staring at her. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing. You just looked really relaxed.”
“I am,” she smiles.
She brushes her hand against his shirt, then grips the fabric in her fingers, tugging him closer. Diavolos obliges, rolling to his side and looking down at her. Kenna studies his face, the lock of hair that always seems to fall forward, the dark depths of his eyes, the soft fullness of his lips. He’s let his stubble grow longer since the final battle, and it scratches pleasantly against her palm as she slides her fingers over his jawline and runs them up into his hair.
A smile spreads across her face and Diavolos gives her a curious look.
“I think it just finally hit me that the war is actually over,” she explains.
“It is,” he agrees.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do yet?”
Diavolos’ eyes flick to her lips when she pulls him down closer.
“I’ve thought about it,” he says, then glances back up at her.
“I seem to remember you saying you knew someone who could teach me about love.”
Kenna sighs into his mouth as he leans down and kisses her, an all-too-quick kiss that makes a faint, “Mm” slip out of her mouth.
“I do know someone,” she murmurs, stroking her fingers through his hair. “She still wants to. If you want.”
“I do,” Diavolos replies in a low tone, keeping his eyes open as he kisses her again, deeper and longer this time.
Kenna brings her other hand up to fist in his shirt, returning his kiss with fervor. He groans her name, and her eyes drift closed as their lips meet over and over again. There’s something behind it, something about him, that she can’t quite put a name to at first. It starts to come to her as Diavolos kisses her with increasing hunger, tangling his tongue with hers, one of his hands burying in her hair.
It’s a combination of burning, consuming desire, and feeling completely at ease with him. There’s no hesitation, no awkward nervousness, even though they’ve only kissed a handful of times before this. Kenna doesn’t know if she believes in soulmates, has always rolled her eyes a little bit at that notion, but there’s some part of her that feels, that knows, she’s meant to be with this man.
They finally wrench apart with a gasp, Diavolos stroking his thumb over her cheek.
“Hells, Kenna,” he says, then chuckles and shakes his head.
“Yes?” she asks.
She tries to sound nonchalant, but she’s still panting for breath, and Diavolos smirks at her.
“This is one way to celebrate the end of a war,” he tells her, bending down to kiss her again.
“I like this way,” Kenna replies, smiling against him.
“So do I.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Eventually they make their way back, and a genuine smile crosses his face when she snags him into a long, slow, kiss before they head out of the stables. When they walk in to the main entrance of the castle, Kenna comes to a dead stop. Diavolos starts laughing at the sight before them.
“Val?” Kenna says as the woman walks in, looking almost giddy. “Why are there barrels and barrels and barrels of skullcracker ale and mead and whiskey here?”
Val gives her an exasperated look. “Because you’re having a banquet. With hundreds of people. You told the kitchen staff to order what we needed.”
“And this is what they ordered?” Kenna asks with a raised eyebrow.
Val shrugs, recruiting a few Stormholt soldiers who have walked in to bring the barrels to the kitchen. “I might have told them you decided to order a few more.”
“Val,” Kenna says sternly, though she’s almost started laughing at the sheer amount of alcohol currently sitting in the castle.
“This is enough to kill everyone here ten times over,” she points out.
Val waves her hand dismissively.
“They’ll be fine,” Val insists, then points at one of the barrels and says, “This is some fancy Fydorian wine. Drink it. You’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine!” Kenna calls as Val walks off towards the kitchen.
“I say we drink it,” Diavolos says. “If we don’t, Zenobia will find some way to smuggle it all to Lykos.”
“Because it’s good wine, or because it’s from Fydoria and she’s in love with Tevan?” Kenna asks, smirking.
Diavolos grins. “Both.”
They take two pitchers of the wine to Kenna’s private quarters. Diavolos keeps giving her a smug grin as they head upstairs.
“I’m supposed to be resting,” she reminds him with a playfully stern look. “At least if Annelyse comes to check on me and lecture me for going riding, I’ll be in my room.”
“Drinking,” Diavolos points out. “That’s not resting.”
Kenna rolls her eyes, biting her lip to hide a smile. The wine is delicious, and incredibly strong. By the time the first pitcher is gone, Diavolos has propped himself up lazily against her headboard, his crown tossed aside, and Kenna is completely relaxed next to him.
“Mmm,” she sighs, taking another drink of wine and frowning when she sees her glass is empty.
Diavolos chuckles at the frustrated sound she makes when she realizes the other pitcher of wine is across the room on her desk.
“You’re drunk,” he says, snagging her around the waist when she rolls to the edge of the bed, intending to stand, and nearly tumbles off.
“Maybe a little,” she agrees, content to lay there with his arm around her.
Diavolos pulls her back to the middle of the bed and lays on his side facing her, his arm loosely banded around her waist.
“I never get drunk,” she confesses.
“I can tell.”
He’s so close that she can almost count his long, dark eyelashes, can feel the warm puff of his breath against her cheek. Diavolos brushes his lips over her forehead when she snuggles into him, then over her cheek when she slips her hand under his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin. She laughs when he squirms a little as she trails her fingers over his back and drops a kiss on the tip of her nose.
Kenna leans in closer, her lips just barely touching his. He returns her kiss easily, though he pulls away when she bites his lower lip and her hand roves up his chest.
“You’re drunk, Kenna,” he reminds her.
“I know. I think you’re drunk, too,” she murmurs, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks, his widened pupils as he stares at her.
“A little bit,” he admits, his eyes crinkling as a grin crosses his face.
She watches him for a long moment, then leans in again, tilting her head up to kiss him. This time it’s messy and unrestrained, Diavolos squeezing her hip and tugging her closer, mindful of her injured shoulder. When they part, he caresses her cheek and leans in for another quick kiss, then settles her against his chest, running his fingers through her hair.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he reminds her.
Kenna closes her eyes immediately. “I am resting,” she says.
She can almost feel the smirk radiate off of him. The wine and his warmth end up making her fall asleep unintentionally, and when she wakes up, she’s momentarily confused. It’s dark, and when she lifts her head up, Diavolos is asleep, his hand still resting loosely in her hair. Kenna curls back against him, and he shifts down further in the bed, pulling her closer. He should probably go back to his own room, she knows, but right now, with Diavolos holding onto her and the threat of Azura and Luther finally gone, she can’t bring herself to make him leave. And, she realizes with a sleepy smile as she closes her eyes again, she doesn’t want him to.