The sentence shouldn’t have pained her, but it did nonetheless.
He was towering over her at her side then. “You should get every shade of green,” he told her.
“I’d prefer the darker ones,” she informed him.
The laugh that left his lips then was one that made her look up. He was staring at the table, touching one of the black fabrics to her left.
“What?”
“You Promised women and your dark shades of color,” he mused. “Who knew such would be your thing when you grow up in a white castle.”
She almost laughed. “The halls were all trimmed in black, so there is something to be said about our liking noir colors,” she agreed. “Also, the darker the fabric, the more hidden the blood from our enemies. Can’t be caught on a battlefield revealing any wounds, can we?”
“If one is lucky enough to wound you, perhaps he should be given the privilege of seeing such a rarity. His last victory before your sword surely slices his throat.”
She finally smiled up at him. “Slowly, of course. My face as the final thing he sees before certain darkness.”
“Bloodlust,” he mocked. “That’s new.”
She didn’t realize she was turned towards him or leaned against the table until his hand brushed hers. His weight shifted, and before she realized what was happening, his hand was against her cheek, thumb moving delicately over her cheekbone and coming to a rest by her lip. Her heart skipped, her cheeks flushing, hotter if possible, beneath his stare. Her bangs fell over her eyes when she looked down, trying to escape his seeing her in such a state.
“Nadir—”
“I know,” he breathed, his eyes shutting tight almost as though he were in pain. His fingers curled just so against her cheek, and then he dropped his hand altogether. “I know you’re not ready. It's just…”
She watched as his tongue darted out over his lips, and when his eyes opened once more, she saw the glisten in them.
“What?”
“Sometimes I forget,” he whispered. “Sometimes I forget about our reality when it’s simply you and I. I forget about what happened to you. I forget about the pressures of keeping my realm safe. I forget about the circumstances in which we met. Sometimes…” his weight shifted again, and he shook his head just slightly as he struggled to get the words out, “Sometimes I fantasize that we’re just us. Just you and me. No titles… No duties… No war… Simply Nadir and Nyssari. Two people in want of one another, standing on opposite sides of the beach and reaching out. Wanting, but never touching.” He reached for her hands, and he entwined their fingers, stretching and wrapping them together and bringing them up with bent elbows at their sides.
“You and me,” he whispered. He sank their palms softly together, and the words that came next from his lips made her knees weak.
“I will stand on the other side of that beach for as long as it takes you to cross it,” he promised.
She had to swallow the lump, causing her to shake. “I’m really not sure what you expect me to say,” she managed, feeling a nervous smile creep on her lips.
“I expect nothing. I just wanted you to know.”
Her fingers tightened in his, and she inhaled a deep breath that filled her lungs to their limits, one that quelled the hurt in her chest and gave way to a new swell—one that warmed her heart and flowed down to the very ends of her toes and fingers.
“I will meet you on that beach,” she whispered, almost losing herself as she met the look in his eyes. “And you can show me that dance we never had.”
His chest rose in a jagged manner, and he squeezed her hands back. “You’d better tell Sutor which velvet you like best then.”
“I prefer the tulle,” she said with a smile.
A soft chuckle left him, his eyes brightening. “Right,” he breathed. “Forgot about the tulle thing,” he said playfully. “Which colors should I find you?”
The look in his eyes made her knees weaker than they already were. She couldn’t help her grin at the mere mention of the fabric, and she began to swing her hands back and forth with his. “Navy,” she said. “Black. Champagne—“
“Champagne?” he repeated, chin dipping. “You’re getting a little greedy there, Princess. Champagne tulle is rare.”
“I’m sure you’ll do your best to find it,” she teased.
His hand slipped around her waist, holding the other up as though he were about to dance, and he leaned her over into a dip. Her cheeks flushed as the blood ran to her head with how low he dipped her, her leg bending around his waist in habit, and she couldn’t help her laugh when he pulled her back into him.
“If champagne tulle is what it takes to dance with you…” he sighed, and she could see the tease in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll ask around.”
