16
Heading down the stairs for breakfast, I squeaked when I rounded them and ran straight into a familiar-scented male.
“Meront,” I gasped, wobbling a little. “Where have you been?”
He steadied me with a hand at my hip, then made a strange face and retreated a step. “Stuck here.” Smirking, he drawled, “Just like you.”
I twined my hands before me. Linked my fingers. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
I waited.
“Ayla, I…” Dragging a hand through his shoulder-length hair, he exhaled roughly. “Look, I don’t quite know how to say this, but—”
“Then don’t,” I said. My appetite waned as I noted his strained features. “It’s all right if you’d rather we forget about it.”
About the kiss, I didn’t say.
The prince frowned. Then his eyes widened. “No, I don’t mean…” He shook his head and stepped forward, as if he’d touch me again. “I wasn’t talking about that.” His nose scrunched, and he groaned. “Ayla, I want to—”
“Moongold,” Haynes hollered from atop the stairs. “Catch!”
I stepped back just in time to avoid being smacked by an apple.
Meront snatched it before it splattered against the stone. “I’d say thank you, but you almost hit the princess.”
“Sorry, Ayla,” Haynes sang.
I smiled and waited for Meront to finish what he’d been saying. But Darcen held up his hands, and the younglings seated at the table with him laughed as Haynes tossed more fruit over the railing to them.
Priestess Yla marched in from the back hall. “If you’re wasting good produce…”
“Absolutely not,” Meront said. “Promise.”
Haynes ducked out of view before the priestess cleared the railing and looked up at the hall above.
Celestine caught my hand as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She pulled me behind her across the hall. As we neared our table, my eyes found Prince Voran. Dressed in his typical black attire, he leaned against the stone wall, legs spread beneath the table.
His eyes had darkened. Not on me. He seemed to look past me.
At Meront, I realized.
When we reached our bench seat, his gaze met mine. His eyes regained their usual hue. But he didn’t smirk. The clenched state of his jaw wouldn’t allow for it. He just stared.
Long after I’d given him my back.
The following day, Prince Voran opened the door before I could knock. “Late again,” he said by way of greeting, and stepped back to let me in.
“Good afternoon to you, too.”
He closed the door behind me. I heard the lock catch and waited for him to take a seat on the bed before deciding where to put myself.
A waste of time.
Like our last meeting, he sat in the middle. So unless I sat upon the floor, we would again end up touching. I looked at the floor, tempted to see if we could do this with more space between us.
Then he said, “What excuses do you have this time?”
“I thought you didn’t care for excuses.”
“Humor me.”
Though surprised, I obliged. “Well, Princess Celestine has been really sad. Her favorite color is turquoise, and I swore I saw wildflowers that shade in the woods a few weeks ago. So after my time in the vegetable garden, I tried to find them.”
“And did you?”
I blinked. “Yes, actually, but the lunch bell tolled before I could pick them, so I went back after.”
“Cannot miss lunch,” he drawled.
“Indeed.” Ignoring what might have been an attempt at sarcasm, I swung my hands at my sides and my eyes around his room. “Wards are all too happy to take unclaimed servings, and I cannot blame them. When I first arrived, I thought they were trying to starve us.”
“You eat more than three meals a day?”
“I eat whenever I want, usually.” A nervous laugh erupted when I caught his severe expression. “Just like you and everyone else here.”
“What result came from the flowers?” Noting my confusion, he scowled. “Did they alleviate your friend’s sadness or fail?”
Almost laughing, I fell still.
I was glad I hadn’t laughed when his hands clasped between his knees, and he leaned forward, awaiting an answer.
He was being sincere.
“Uh…” I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I put them in a jug of water and snuck them into her room. But I suspect they might make her smile.”
A groove formed between his bunched brows.
Shaking my head, I dared to walk closer. “Have you been practicing?” I lingered next to the bed, hoping it might prompt him to make more room for me.
It didn’t.
His gaze had fallen to my legs, wrapped tight in the archive-issued pants. Only when I cleared my throat did he move it to the nightstand and speak. “Yes. Sit, and I’ll prove it to you.”
I sat, and he did so by reading the first two pages with nary a stumble. On the third page, however, he stopped halfway through. Not merely because he’d mispronounced a word, but to ask roughly, “Who taught you how to read and write?”
Taken aback by the sudden question, I stared at his large thumb at the corner of the parchment for a moment. “My mother taught me how to read, and a tutor taught me how to write.”
“Tutor,” he repeated. “We do not have those in Valadorn.”
“Not even for royalty and nobility?”
“There is no nobility. There is the royal family and those related to it. One alpha. One hierarchy.”
That explained why he was the only one here from his kingdom—and why he hadn’t continued learning how to read. “Do you have books in Palace Valadorn?”
“Not as many as this place.”
My lips curled. “I doubt all of the books in every castle and manor throughout the four kingdoms could rival the number of those here in the archives.”
When he looked at me, a thick strand of hair escaped from behind his arched ear. Perhaps it was due to our proximity, but as I watched it rest against his rocklike cheek, I couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was as soft as it looked, and if he brushed it.
“Your eyes are an unusual shade,” he murmured, as if I were unaware. “Darker than amethyst, lighter than indigo.”
I’d been so busy studying him that I hadn’t realized he was studying me. I flushed and lowered my gaze to the story in his hand. “We should keep reading.”
“Does blood always rush to your face when males speak to you?”
“Excuse me?” I asked through a shaken laugh, ready to run from his room. Instead, I unhooked my hair from my ear so it curtained much of my profile.
“Does it happen because you are still intact?”
Nearly choking on a gasp, I leapt to my feet. “That is…”
“A question.”
I gaped at him, puzzled even more by his aloof and severe features. He didn’t appear to be toying with me. Teasing me. “A very forward question.”
Wholly undeterred by my comment and discomfort, he asked, “Why haven’t you let someone break you?”
At a loss, I blinked. Then scowled. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
“Besides your frequently warming face, your fear of me fucking you to claim some type of vengeance or victory for Valadorn.”
Oh.
Still, I said, “That doesn’t mean I’m—”
“Your cheeks heat again.”
He was maddeningly right. Agitated and mortified, I headed to the door. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”
Before I could touch the brass handle, he said, “Leaving without giving me my reward?” He hummed. “Not happening, broshklin. But I’ll let you choose how to reward me.” When I spun back to face him, he flashed his teeth. “For today only.”
That wolfish smile, brief and threatening, caused my stomach to bounce.
“Tell me why you remain intact or…” He spread his hands. “Receive a kiss.”
He waited silently as I stared at him. As I tried to think.
But I saw no harm in telling him why I’d never lain with someone. So, of course, that would be preferable to kissing him. But I had to ask, “Why do you want to know?”
A slight lift of his shoulder was his response.
My eyes narrowed.
His brow arched.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll tell you.”
Without taking his eyes off me, he set the story down. Waited again.
I looked at it as I explained, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be just like my mother.
A queen beloved by many. I was almost ten years when she died, so I saw how my father changed.
He became more distant. Busy, I suppose.
I needed to…” Not knowing how to put it, I decided on, “I want to make him happy. Proud.”
“You seek admiration,” Voran said. “Your father’s approval.”
I couldn’t refute that.
That didn’t mean I could say he was right. “I just don’t want to make things more difficult than they have been. One day, he will match me carefully. So I’m mindful of the company I keep when it comes to males, and I’m, well… cautious.”
“Cautious,” he repeated.
I licked my lips and nodded.
His boots shifted over the stone. He cleared his throat. “Then you’ve never had a lover.” A pause before he added, “Never let someone touch your body.”
“I…” Words gathered on my tongue as I met his stern gaze. But lying was pointless. “No, I haven’t.”
His features remained void. Expressionless.
For some reason, it helped. The heat climbing into my face abated.
Then his brows furrowed. “You believe not being innocent could hinder your ability to marry well.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed. “A future queen is about as good as it gets.”
“You would think so, but keeping my…” My nose crinkled. “Well, it will push the price for my hand even higher, which will benefit our family greatly for many decades. A queen does what is best for her family, as what is best for her family is best for her people.”
“What a lovely speech. How many times has your father had you recite it?” Before I could share my outrage, he said, “You will be matched soon, then. The flower king needs more gold to recruit more warriors.”
My anger dried.
Without meaning to, I whispered, “We need more than gold to stop your uncle from taking the Scale Crown, Voran.”
He stared hard at my hands. “You do.” It wasn’t said unkindly, but simply as fact.
Not knowing I’d been picking at my nails, I quickly pulled my hands apart and swung them at my sides. A strange tension had arrived. One I wished to rid. But I wasn’t sure what else to say. There was nothing more to say.
Before I could decide if I should leave, the wolf prince decided we weren’t done reading. He patted his bed. “Sit.”
He then began to read, and I was left adrift, even as I finally sat beside him once more.
I watched his fingers slide down the parchment. Took note of where it had creased and crinkled from when he’d read the story. A few times, he paused to sound out a word or stumble through pronouncing one.
Twice, I gently corrected him.
When he finished, he handed the story to me. “Read to me before you go.”
Tentatively, I took it from him. I held it in my left hand while I fussed with my hair. I didn’t know when I ceased doing so, nor when I’d put my hand on the bed. Yet near the end of the tale about the great stag, I felt his finger touch mine.
I tripped over the next sentence and stopped.
Slowly, I looked down at the bed.
Voran ran the pad of his pointer finger over the length of my own. Hair rose on my nape. Everywhere. A callus seemed to be the cause, tickling and lightly scraping my skin.
“Tiny,” he whispered.
Our eyes met and refused to unlatch.
His finger drifted atop my hand to my wrist. There, it wrapped around it to meet his thumb. “Even your wrist.”
Words clogged my throat.
That callused finger grazed my inner wrist. I shivered. Noticing, he did so again. This time, I didn’t let us see how I would react.
I set the story down and forced my feet to the door.