Chapter 27
The kiss with Azam was catastrophic and all she thought about. Even as she danced with other men, walked with them, let them hold her hand, all she felt was the phantom touch of Azam’s body pressing hers against the wall, his hands under her chemise.
She wanted to talk to him, but he was determined to avoid her, not looking at her at all. Every time she saw him, he looked like he was in pain, and she hated it. She hated all of this.
But he had a point: she had never been fully honest with him, either.
A few days after the kiss, there was a picnic in the gardens. It was a hot day in early June, the sun blazing; the picnic went the way all the other events of the tourney had gone.
Sonya sat in the shade eating a small bowl of chilled ras malai, a dish made of cottage cheese balls in sweetened milk.
She listened as the son of the duke told a story about his sister.
It was terribly hot, and after finishing off the sweet dish, Sonya still wasn’t refreshed.
She wanted a cold glass of water, and she stood to get it herself, needing a moment of quiet.
But when she stood, blood rushed to her head, and she stumbled, her foot catching on the hem of her dress. She fell forward and heard a tear of fabric.
‘Princess!’ All three suitors shot to their feet, until they caught sight of the torn dress, a glimpse of her stocking-clad leg underneath. Gentlemen that they were, they all turned around, giving her privacy. Sonya swore in her head.
Elspeth offered Sonya her hand, helping her stand. ‘Are you hurt?’ Elspeth asked.
‘You mean other than my pride?’ Sonya asked, brushing her hands down her dress. Her brothers crowded around her, inspecting for damage, but the dress had faced the worst of it. Elspeth held the fabric together so Sonya’s leg wasn’t exposed.
‘This was what I meant by wardrobe malfunctions,’ Mustafa said, trying not to laugh. She gave him a glare. Shahmir and Mustafa were also trying not to laugh. She scowled.
‘Well, this is why we keep the tailor on hand,’ Shahmir said.
Oh no. Sonya’s stomach curdled with dread. Before she could stop Shahmir, he had called Azam over.
‘Her dress has torn,’ Shahmir explained.
Azam nodded, not looking at any of them.
Another maid grabbed an extra picnic blanket and used it to shield Sonya, while Elspeth still held the fabric of her dress closed. They made their way to a different part of the gardens, where there was nobody else.
Sonya and Azam entered, while Elspeth and the maid held the picnic blanket up at the entrance of the garden’s section, blocking it off. They faced the opposite direction, giving Sonya privacy.
Sonya looked at Azam. He pulled a needle and thread from his pocket, then went on his knees in front of her. She wanted to hold his face in her hands, brush her thumbs over his cheekbones. But his head was bowed. The sun beat down on her back, unbearable.
‘If I may?’ he asked, voice quiet and distant. As if he had not had his tongue in her mouth a few days ago!
‘You may,’ she replied. His hands disappeared under her dress, and the breath lodged in her throat.
He gathered the fabric of her dress, lifting it up over her leg. He would mend it from the inside.
She was going to ask why he could not use his magic to mend it when she felt his knuckles brush against her skin. She shut her mouth, letting him work, wanting this time with him to stretch like taffy.
He moved slowly, and she recalled how his hands had moved across her legs when he had put her stockings on before Ximena’s wedding.
Desire stirred low in her belly at the memories, not helped by the fact that they were in a secluded garden, just as they had been when they had shared their first kiss.
Her vision blurred. She felt unsteady, the heat making sweat prickle on her skin.
He finished the stitch and brought his mouth forward to cut the thread. As he did, his cheek brushed against the bare sliver of skin above her stockings and beneath her drawers.
He stilled, noticing. She held her breath, wondering if he would withdraw. Instead, he turned his face and, ever so gently, pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Her body ached.
She made an involuntary sound, and he looked up at her. When he did, she felt like Sonya again, just Sonya, and he was her Azam. Relief poured through her, and she swayed, her hands falling to his shoulders for support.
He dropped the dress, then lifted one of her hands, fingers gentle. He kissed the inside of her wrist, still holding her hand as he stood, and then it was her turn to look up at him.
‘Sonya,’ he whispered, voice rasping. His mouth hovered close to hers, and her pulse spiked dangerously.
It was two weeks until her wedding. She could not be doing this, but she knew that even now, she would choose Azam, she would choose him in a heartbeat, without needing to think it over for even a second.
She loved him.
She tilted her face towards his, but he only leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy. Her entire body was pulled taut.
Then, after a few painful moments, he pulled away.
Azam bowed his head. ‘Your Royal Highness,’ he said, voice low. He was treating her like a princess again, and she couldn’t bear it.
It was too hot, much too hot. Sonya fainted.