The question was a splinter lodged into the deepest, rawest wound in his heart. He’d spent years curating himself. He’d become a creature of meticulous preparation, of schedules and constant improvement. He trained away his flaws, shoving any reservations, any weaknesses into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, and he only ever let them out when he was alone—with the exception of that moment before the Gauntlet Games binding ceremony when Stella had seen him break down.
He’d been as perfect as possible, but all that perfection had not saved him from constant scrutiny. The more perfect he was, the narrower the measures of success became. He was trying so hard, but the pressure was getting to him.
“If she can only love you if you’re different, then does she even love you at all?” Stella asked softly.
She’d made such a succinct and brutal study of him. Those words coming from her gave new meaning to “knowing your enemy.” It was unnerving to be seen by her, and he’d had enough surprises for one night.
Teddy felt overexposed, burned to the core by her recognition. There was no judgment behind it; he felt in that moment how much they had in common.
“What would you know about love?” Teddy snapped. “You’re so obsessed with your stories, but real love isn’t all so neatly tied up.”
Stella did not look nearly as put off by his sharp words as he’d hoped. In fact, she looked almost relieved by them.
“Such a skeptic,” she said with a sigh. “But cynicism doesn’t make you mature. It just makes you boring.”
Teddy crossed his arms and scowled at her, but he was happy to return to that dynamic. The kiss had shifted the landscape between them. Her taunt brought them back to common ground.
Stella held her hands out in a truce. “Look, things obviously did not go as planned tonight. We’re both on edge. We have to be back in time for the next challenge. Let’s go get some sleep. I’ll even tell you one of my stories that you hate so much.”
His lips twitched, but he appraised her with skepticism. Otherthan his moment of panic before the tournament binding, it had been a long time since he heard her tell a story. His sisters had always enjoyed the McKay family’s storytelling rituals and came home raving about Stella’s stories every solstice.
She rolled her eyes. “Your Grace, you will love it. It has blood and violence and a walled-off city in the middle of a monster-infested forest. If you’re not at least entertained, I’ll let you give it a full realist’s critique at the end. I’ll even tell you how you’re right about everything.”
Teddy bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling.
She cocked her head and winked at him. “You’re right—I’m trying to de-escalate things and I know those words will just get you all hot and bothered again.”
Teddy smothered a laugh. “Fine. Spin your fluffy story.”
She threaded her arm through his and Teddy let his heart-bonded nemesis lead him away from the mess they’d made in the temple.
21
STELLA
One kiss ruined Stella McKay’s life.
She hadn’t slept all night, and she was paying for it as she warmed up for the second Gauntlet Games challenge. Fatigue weighted every swipe of her blades.
The sun beat down on her as she slashed her short swords across the chest of the practice ring dummy.
Teddy had kissed her.Teddy Savero. Lifelong prank nemesis. Incessant royal snob. Broody Prince of Argaria.
Teddy was painfully handsome, but she’d always been too put off by his seriousness to think of him as desirable.
And yet, she’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about the urgency with which he’d kissed her. She hadn’t realized someone so composed could also possess that kind of passion. He had managed to do the one thing she’d thought him impossible of doing—surprise her.
Arden was a great kisser, and from their first kiss they’d slipped into a rhythm together with such ease. He had kissed her with urgency, passion, and sweetness, but he’d never kissed her with the violent, wild abandon Teddy had.
What had Teddy said when he was drunk?“You’re always here. Like a fucking haunting.”
She understood what he meant. That was how she felt. Haunted by the memory of his hands on her skin, the rush of his breath on her neck, the vibration of his groan in her mouth. It was an unfortunate time to have magic that perfectly preserved memories. She couldn’t stop turning it over, analyzing every touch, picking apart his every movement, his every sigh.
Each time, she felt the same flutter in her chest like butterflies taking flight around her heart. Really it was more like moths driving mindlessly toward a flame.
She’d known immediately that it was a mistake. She’d expected Teddy to be methodical, scientific in his approach, but he was almost reckless in his commitment to unnerve her.
She hated that it felt so good to kiss him. The new connection in her chest seemed to swell and shudder like a sigh of relief just from the memory of it.
