The first threads of apprehension ooze through me. I do not remember approaching. Nor do I remember reaching out my hand. The voice that invaded my mind has since dissolved.
Pulling free of Notus’ grip, I continue toward the palace. Cool, jasmine-scented air plumes in invitation as I pass one of the gardens. Moments later, Notus cuts off my path. Color flushes the wind-roughened skin of his cheeks. He has yet to replace his headscarf after the incident at the oasis.
I find myself studying the planes of his face, the heavy shape of his jaw, the slope of his forehead. It is unfair for something so loathed to be wrought with such splendor.
“Will you ignore me for the rest of the day?” Notus demands.
I quirk a brow. He is absolutely livid. What does that say about me, that I find him all the more compelling for this display of emotion?
“For the rest of the day, and for all the days after, until you are gone from my life.” With a neat sidestep, I turn a corner, taking a shortcut to my chambers.
Notus’ footsteps follow. “Did he touch you? At the oasis?”
I halt in the middle of the corridor. My pulse beats a tattoo against my neck. “And if he did?” Slowly, I turn to look at him. “Would you care?”
The South Wind hesitates before stepping closer. The breadth of his shoulders eclipses the sunlight filtering through the high, circular windows. “Maybe I would care. Have you thought about that?”
Of course I have thought about it. And that is exactly the problem.
I’m about to respond when movement draws my focus farther down the hall. A small group of noblewomen loiter near one of the marble statues, heads bent in conversation. My stomach drops. I recognize Dalia immediately.
“Not here,” I mutter. “Someplace private so we’re not overheard.”
Notus looks to where Dalia flutters her fingers in our direction. The way she drinks in the South Wind makes me want to claw out her eyes.
Thankfully, Notus trails me without question, lengthening his strides to keep pace. “Well?” he quips, as soon as we are out of earshot.
“Well what?” I snap.
“You didn’t answer the question. Did he touch you?”
I shake my head in frustration. As if he needs another reason to attack the prince. Anyway, answering truthfully feels a little too much like defeat. “No, he didn’t,” I growl, more maliciously than I intend. “Now would you drop it?”
“I’m only trying to protect you. I cannot do so if you do not let me in.”
“I let you in once,” I choke, the words like shattered glass in my throat. “I will never make that mistake again.”
I turn away, but the South Wind slips in front of me, grabs my arm. “Stop. Just… stop.”
His hand is so large it completely swallows my upper arm. And yet, it is gentle. It has always been gentle, his touch.
My gaze lowers, drawn by the glimmer of gold circling his wrist. All goes still inside me. “What is that?” When he attempts to retreat, I pull up the long sleeve of his robe, revealing a delicate bracelet of hammered gold, shaped like an arrow.
A gulf opens inside my mind. Its roar swells, dousing all rational thought. For I, too, have a bracelet identical in shape, only fashioned of lead. Notus bought them from an artisan, years ago. He’d gifted mine to me on my nineteenth birthday. Two arrows. For I had pierced his heart as he had pierced mine.
“Why are you wearing this?” I whisper in a trembling voice. My eyes lift to his, fever bright. “Explain.”
Suddenly watchful, he swallows, lifts a hand to his neck, expression pained. “I have always worn it.”
That cannot be. “You’re lying.”
“It is not a lie.”
I flinch away from him, unable to bear the implication that he has worn this symbol of our shared love these past years.
“Sarai—”
“Stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”
