Chapter Forty-Two #2
I spun, my back pressed against the door as I glared up at him, breath hitching in my throat. “Then what do you want?”
His arm caged me in, hand firmly pressed against the door above me, face dangerously near, green eyes searching. I struggled to keep air in my lungs, fought the urge to shove him away. Fought to remain stoic and strong.
“You know.” His voice turned conspiratorial. “We make a pretty good team.”
“You think we make a pretty good team,” I muttered, squirming underneath his gaze. I looked anywhere but at him.
He cleared his throat. “I thought we might make another alliance after the finale ball.”
I rolled my eyes. “What kind of alliance?”
He shrugged. “Nothing serious.” His voice dropped lower. “For now.”
I caved and met his eyes, noting the question buried within their depths, the longing, and the hope.
I couldn’t deny it anymore. Couldn’t keep shoving it away.
He didn’t feel like my enemy because I was drawn to him.
I cared about him. I—I needed to step away, needed to— Our breaths grew ragged as we stared at each other, our hearts pounding within our chests to an unknown rhythm.
I tried to shake my head no, tried to get myself out of it, but I couldn’t.
Couldn’t say no. Couldn’t look away. His head dipped lower, lips hovering above mine.
Waiting. Waiting for me to tell him no, to push him away.
I didn’t. I didn’t want to, even though everything within screamed to. Screamed that this was wrong.
But I didn’t listen.
My lips parted, and I raised myself ever so slightly to meet his. It was soft at first, tentative, like we were suspended in space, connected only through the kiss. We broke apart, then he kissed me again, harder this time.
And then again.
Heat rose within me as I kissed him back, my lips returning to his over and over.
A warm hand slid behind my neck, gliding over my skin as he pulled me closer.
His other lowered from the door, traveling down my back and finding its place at my waist. His body pressed against mine, pushing me into the wood, nearly suffocating me.
I gasped for breath, but there was only him—and that was the problem.
We’d opened this forbidden door, and now it would be impossible to close.
I should have pushed him away, should have fled, but I was too weak.
I couldn’t tell him no.
Didn’t want to tell him no.
“Valeris,” I whispered, but his name was lost in the kiss.
I couldn’t get involved. Couldn’t allow this to go any further. I’d come here with a purpose. A mission. And this stupid prince was messing up all my plans. This stupid prince who got under my skin, irritated me, who was the most frustrating person I had ever met, and yet—
And yet, he seemed to be nothing like the vile, wicked man who was his father.
This stupid prince danced among the commoners, cared about his people, cared enough that he wouldn’t allow his irresponsible sister to rule.
This stupid prince let Nadiyah go when he could have exiled or executed her.
I liked this stupid prince, a sentiment I should have never entertained and hadn’t meant to.
All this infatuation would lead to was hurt.
Valeris pulled back for a moment, studying me. I looked up at him, disoriented, a million questions brimming in my gaze.
“I thought you never wanted me to touch you like that again,” I said.
He kissed me again, long and slow, before pulling away. “There are exceptions.”
We stared at each other, neither of us speaking as we caught our breath.
I cocked an eyebrow. “You were talking about an alliance?”
He clenched his jaw as if deciding whether or not to answer.
His hand threaded into my hair, tilting my chin up.
“You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met. Do you have any idea how angry I was when you rejected my offer of friendship and refuted my ability to throw you out of the ball after destroying my alliance with Lord Eyreling?”
“Had you never been told no before?”
He hesitated, then shook his head, attention dropping to my lips.
“But then”—he reared back to meet my eyes again—“suddenly you want an alliance—and I knew you were up to something.”
I’d always suspected Valeris had only agreed to the alliance to spy on me, but it didn’t feel like that was a problem anymore.
“You didn’t tell me what kind of alliance you were wanting,” I said.
“What are your plans after the finale?” he asked.
The question took me by surprise. “What?”
“Will you return to Allowyn?”
I froze in his arms, the idea paralyzing me.
The last five years of my life had been consumed by grief and this plan for revenge.
Everything pointed to the pivotal moment when I sent an arrow into King Zaricor’s heart.
Into Valeris’s father’s heart. That was all that had ever mattered, but what would I do after?
Getting caught had always been a possibility. But now, after ...
I swallowed. “I—I don’t know.”
What would be my life after King Zaricor’s death? I hadn’t taken the time to consider it, and the thought consumed me now.
“I don’t want the finale ball to be the last time we see each other.”
My eyes snapped to his, heart pounding. I slipped from underneath his arm, taking several steps away, awkwardness hovering between us. “I can’t promise you anything or make any more alliances, Valeris. I have no idea where I’m going to stand politically after the Paravellian Balls.”
He followed me, searching my eyes. “But if you did know where you would stand politically, what would your answer be?”
I read the question in his own gaze, asking if I felt the same.
I swallowed.
Tell him no, the voice in my head whispered.
You’re not interested.
You feel differently.
“Maybe.” The word slipped out before I could stop it, igniting a hope that never should have sparked.
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “But I can’t.”
I sat on the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs. Valeris eased down across from me, watching but staying uncharacteristically quiet.
“What are you hiding from me?”
I interlaced my fingers, staring down at them and trying to find the right words. “There are things I will never be able to tell you. Things I will never be able to share, only that the consequences will always haunt me.”
Sadness overwhelmed him. “We all have horrible things in our past that haunt us. Things we can’t forget.”
His words were emotionally loaded, and I recognized the distant look in his eyes. “There’s a reason you don’t like to be touched without permission, isn’t there?”
His face hardened, lined with anger. “Uncle Wylan used to be known as Prince Alekvandor, my father’s brother. And you know of”—the words stuck in his throat—“the other?”
Quintar. The uncle who had been executed.
I nodded.
I recalled Valeris’s reaction when I had spoken his uncle’s name the last time. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
“He was still around when Ezrielle and I were children. He was ... not a good person. He—” Valeris hesitated. “Did things to her. And me.”
He stopped.
“Uncle Wylan suspected something amiss, which spared me from worse. He investigated and had him arrested. If I’d been at the mercy of my parents to do something ...” He shuddered. “He was executed on Uncle Wylan’s orders.
“Howland felt terrible for not knowing. That’s why he never leaves my side. He’s never forgiven himself for it. So, yes, that would be why. For years Uncle Wylan took me to regular sessions with someone who helped me cope with what happened. It helped, but not all scars are visible.”