25
Tyressa and Paphin buzzed past me, giggling as they raced each other to their table. Darcen ceased stealing nibbles of their oats and feigned confusion when they both yelled at him.
Continuing to my table, I almost smiled. Almost forgot that he’d rejected my friend.
Knowing Voran was watching my every move made it even harder not to smile. I met his gaze and held it for seconds longer than I should have. Felt the thrill I shouldn’t have. One that would have me count time until I could feel it again.
Then he arched a brow, and I lowered my head to hide my wriggling lips before taking a seat.
Celestine arrived. “What’s so amusing?”
Momentarily thrown, I could only mutter, “Oh, the younglings were just yelling at Darcen for stealing their breakfast.”
Plopping onto the bench seat with a huff, she said, “As they should. I have news, by the way.” She sipped her water. “Not about the war.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“Alixa tattled on me to Priestess Renisha.”
I scowled. “About your not-so-injured ankle?”
She hummed and set her cup down. “I don’t know what her problem is. I wasn’t the one who told the priestesses she was climbing trees after her injury.”
Eating a mouthful of oats, I searched the hall until I saw Alixa’s white-blond hair. She’d gathered it into a knot atop her head today, tendrils left free to gloss her pink cheeks. She dug at her bowl, then offered her spoon to Meront.
He ignored it, but Darcen leaned over his friend, mouth open.
Alixa laughed. So did the younglings as she fed him a spoonful of oats.
Celestine tensed.
“It’s just food,” I whispered.
Publicly shared food, but still just food. Regardless, I kept an eye on Celestine as she ate, awaiting any signs.
Her eyes rolled. “Stop it. I feel the same as I did two minutes ago.” Yet when she walked me to the gardens, she murmured, “I wish food were all it would take to be free of this.”
I watched her leave, then pushed up my sleeves to nourish some vegetables with my magic. It awakened with ease. So much so, the younglings were plucking carrots and potatoes from the soil rather than trying to feed it.
Unless I went to the herb garden, there was little else to do but join them.
Paphin leapt to his feet. “A ship!”
Frowning, I shook dirt from a carrot and set it in the basket.
Tyressa nearly tripped over the crate of potatoes, eager to run down the path after Paphin and Resenda to the beach. Over in the courtyard, wooden weapons were dropped with a clatter, and wards hurried to the paths astride the archives.
Meront was slow to follow. As he did, he headed to the path nearest the gardens.
I gave him a brief smile.
He returned it, hesitating as he approached.
Then he walked on, and I frowned at his back while trailing him down to the beach.
Out on the water, white sails flapped in the wind. Upon each was a blue-and-gray depiction of Avyshla. This ship, its crew, and its captain served no singular realm or merchant, but the continent as a whole.
Except, while sitting in the sand with Tyressa and Celestine as the males carried crates of goods to the archive’s cellars, I wondered if that were true.
Each crate boasted the royal crest of the kingdom that had sent it.
An emerald Mer tail catching a crown of shells for Coraldeen. A mountain of gold beneath a full gold moon for Moongold. A clover-wreathed sword of stone for Cloverleaf. And a direwolf baring its teeth for Valadorn.
I didn’t see Voran’s crest.
I waited until the crew was rowing back to the ship and the younglings were squashing their sandcastles, but I knew.
Either Valadorn had been excluded or they hadn’t offered any goods.
Lunch was delayed due to the shipment and the excitement.
Afterward, I roamed the archives. Priestess Mala passed by. She gave me a serene smile with her nod. I returned it without a word, my chest getting tighter as the archives became quieter.
I wanted to ask Voran why his kingdom hadn’t sent any contributions to the isle for harboring him. An excuse, I knew. I just wanted to see him. Though want seemed too inadequate a word to describe the hungry feeling.
But when I reached the males’ floor, a door opened.
I froze.
The stairwell was three rooms behind me. Too far to backtrack as Meront pulled his door closed.
He took one step, then halted with a frown. “Ayla?”
If there was ever a good time to address this strangeness between us, it was certainly now. So I didn’t try to hide my fear. I let it continue to flood my cheeks. “Uh, hello.”
The Moongold prince took another step closer. A hesitant one. That frown stayed as he surveyed me. “What are you doing up here?”
“It’s not obvious?” I rubbed my cheek, as if wishing to rid the embarrassment I pretended to feel. “I was hoping to finally speak to you.”
“Oh. Right.”
I leaned against the wall and met his gaze.
He immediately looked down at his scuffed boots, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I, ah…” A hand swept into his hair. The sandy strands fell around his shoulders as he blew out a rough breath. “Well, I’ve just been a rotting coward.”
“Then I’ve been one, too,” I said.
Though that made his lips quirk, he still wouldn’t look at me. “Truth is, I haven’t figured out how to tell you…” He groaned. “Shit.”
“It’s fine. Really.” I straightened. “Maybe people need to kiss to find out how they truly feel. You don’t need to explain.” Nodding, I said, “I promise it’s fine.”
“Right,” he said again.
In the screaming silence, a door opened down the hall. Meront looked over his shoulder, allowing me to see past his bulk.
No one came.
So I continued, “But we’re still friends, aren’t we?”
That returned his attention to me. “Of course.” He scowled. “Always. But you don’t understand, Ayla.” His brow smoothed. “Or maybe you do.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
As if he was fighting the desire to blurt something, his lips pinched. Then another harsh exhale puffed his cheeks. “You.”
My brows jumped. “Me?”
“Every time I’ve been near you since that kiss, your scent…” He waved his hand at me. “Shit, maybe even your energy, it’s…” Lifting his shoulders, he finally settled on a rushed, “It’s just off.”
“Off,” I repeated, utterly perplexed.
He nodded. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
Hearing booted footfalls, we both looked down the hall. Meront tensed as the Valadorn prince neared.
Not as much as me. I ceased breathing and lowered my gaze to the floor.
As though each step was measured, Voran passed slowly. Tauntingly. His scent wrapped around me like a rope, tugging. I almost let it. Almost turned to watch him enter the stairwell down the hall. Instead, I gnawed at my lip and squeezed my hands together.
Mistaking my anxiety for fear, Meront grumbled, “I loathe that he still makes you cower.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. I was a bundle of bouncing nerves—annoyed that I’d missed the prince, and annoyed that the prince standing before me wasn’t making any sense. “Could you try describing it?” I asked. “This off feeling. I want to understand.”
For a moment, Meront gazed over my head. Perhaps worried that Voran might return.
Then he sighed. “I want to as well.” He came closer and stiffened, as if sensing this off-ness. His smile was more of a grimace. “Honestly, it’s sort of like a shield. Like you’re telling me to fuck off without actually saying it.”
My wide eyes met his. “I am doing no such thing.”
He laughed, hearty and loud. “You are. I wish you weren’t, but you are.” His features eased, and he swallowed. “Look, Ayla, I want to kiss you again. I want to do more than kiss you. But this odd shield-like thing makes me feel like you don’t want the same.”
He didn’t wait for a response.
Careful not to touch me as he passed, he headed to the stairwell.
Bewildered, I blinked at where he’d stood, then gazed down the hall. Going to Voran’s room to wait for him seemed wrong. Then again, seeing him at all was wrong. But he’d probably gone to the east wing.
Lost within dizzying thoughts, I walked back to the stairwell.
Where a scream caught in my throat as I was grabbed and pulled across the landing.
Breath returned at the sight of his eyes.
Voran crowded me into the shadowed corner until our boots knocked, an arm bracing on the stone above my head.
Looming over me, he trailed a finger down my cheek.
“That was almost painful to listen to.” His gaze followed his finger to my mouth.
He traced it. “But much preferable to watching him kiss you.”
My bones tightened. “You saw that?”
Lips lifting slightly, he said, “Of course.”
“You never said anything.”
“No point when you looked like someone had just forced you to eat something foul.” He parted my mouth with his thumb and slid it over my lower lip. “And when there’s no need to warn you to say your goodbyes because I cannot kill him yet.”
Swallowing, I searched his eyes for any sign that he was jesting. They remained dim and wholly focused on my lips. “I do hope this is a bad attempt at being humorous.”
“Quite the contrary,” he muttered. “There is nothing humorous about a male putting his mouth and hands where they will never fucking belong.”
A door opened down below, then closed with a boom.
“We’ll need to finish this concerning conversation later,” I whispered quickly, and pushed at Voran’s chest.
Useless. He only moved to tilt my chin and plant his mouth on mine. Beneath the unyielding press of his lips, I did what I always did—softened against my will.
Scuffing echoed. Boots on steps.
Voran finally released me. “Come to me after dark.” With a gleam in his eyes, he whispered, “Unless you want me to come to you.”
Before whoever it was rounded the stairs below, he vanished into the hall, leaving me alone to face a confused-looking Oaken.
“Princess?” His brows and freckles bunched as he reached the landing. “Hiding from someone?”
“Sort of.” Relieved to have been gifted an excuse, I said, “I didn’t finish garden duty because of the shipment. So I’m drifting about until the priestesses forget.”
He chuckled. “They’re guarding the crates like wyverns, so I’d say you’re fine to do as you wish.”
“Thank Goddess.” I darted down the stairs. “And thank you, Oaken.”
Another chuckle echoed into the stairwell.