“It means”—I sigh, not bothering to look at him—“I see the way she looks at you.”
“And?”
“Oh, good, you’re aware of it, too.”
“Serena.” The sound of my name on his lips stops me in my tracks. He never uses my name.
“My hands are tied here.” His expression burns with the words. I can read in his face how torn he is between his loyalty, his honor, and his passion. He wants me. Just as badly as I want him. But neither of us is free to do as we like.
“If the king told you to propose tomorrow,” I pose, “what would you do?”
His gaze falls to the stable floor with a sigh.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What choice do I have? I am the king’s man. I owe my life, my station, to him. He’s been like a father to me. Don’t you understand that?” His golden eyes are tormented as his hands knot in his damp hair.
“I do,” I whisper, my voice full of regret. I swallow as I place my hand over his chest.
“I do understand. Which is why, if he asks, you have to say yes.”
Jace stares at me, astonished. “You want me to propose.”
“No, of course, I don’t want you to propose. But I recognize your position. Just like I’m beginning to recognize my own.” I offer him a sad smile and lean in to kiss him on the cheek.
“I understand,” is all I say as I push through the door, leaving him alone, staring after me.
27
Zadyn and I eat dinner together in my room that night. He seems a little less aloof than when he abruptly left this afternoon.
“How was lunch with the king?” I take a sip of wine from a crystal goblet.
He shakes his head, his brows knitting together. “Interesting.”
“How so?” Setting my glass down, I lean forward.
He pauses for a moment, then says, “I think he feels…responsible for my parents’ deaths.”
“If anyone is responsible, it’s me,” I say softly.
“Please don’t say that.” He gives me a tender look. “Don’t even think it. My parents knew what they would be sacrificing. It’s no one’s fault.”
“What were they like?” I ask after a moment.
“I never got to meet my mother. My father,” he starts slowly, a soft smile spreading on his lips. “He was funny. Charming. Easy to talk to, easy to love.” He stares into his wine, his mind somewhere far away.
“Sounds a lot like someone I know.”
Zadyn huffs a muted laugh before continuing.
“He was a shifter, too, and a fierce swordsman. He taught me everything I know. The king shared some old war stories about the two of them at lunch, some I’d never heard before. He clearly loved my parents.” He sets his glass down and flattens his palms on the polished table.
“I had hoped he’d still be here when I got back,” he admits quietly, studying his hands. “There’s a lot I didn’t get to say.”
“He knew. Trust me.” I reach out to take his hand.
