He looks at my exposed skin like it’s burning him alive. I shrug the shawl back up, but he stops me with a hand on my bare skin. I think he’s going to pull it up, but his hand just remains there, holding me, touching me.
I gaze up at him, at his half-lidded eyes. My body is on fire with the heat between us. His hand trembles on my skin.
“Dietan…” I whisper.
He’s so close. I turn my chin up toward him. My head is spinning, and my insides are twisted up and melting. We lean toward each other. The air between us crackles.
But then he closes his eyes and groans, his shoulders sinking. He yanks my wrap back up over my shoulder and releases me, like he can’t stand to touch me.
I read that totally wrong. He doesn’t want me at all.
“You really don’t like me, do you?” I say, trying to tamp down the hurt in my voice.
When he opens his eyes again, his irises blaze green in the firelight. He drags a hand through his golden hair and shakes his head. “I just—I don’t want to share a tent with anyone, all right?”
“With anyone, or with me?” This time, I can’t hide the ache in my voice. See, I’ve noticed that he’s started to act differently toward me after being on the road together for so long. The aggressive charm he uses on everyone else has disappeared. I can tell he’s himself around me. He seeks me out. We’ve walked together for hours, sometimes just sharing a comfortable silence, our hands finding each other for small caresses.
Maybe none of that matters now.
“Just admit it. You regret asking someone as common as me to be your fake bride. You asked me because no one else would be stupid enough to go on this dangerous Wedding March with you with war coming, but I thought…” I falter when I glance up at him; he looks wild, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, but still he says nothing, and I’m desperate to fill this terrible silence, to change that look on his face, so I keep talking.
“You’re the only one here I can talk to, but every night you hide yourself away.” I exhale, feeling more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. But I can’t stop the words from flowing out of my lips. “I know I’m not really your bride, that I volunteered to be part of this lie so you can save the kingdoms. But after all the awful things that’ve happened, I just want to feel like we’re on the same mission, together. I feel so lost some days. I just need… I need…”
I need you.
I wish he’d say something—anything. I can’t read him. If I knew him better, I’d swear he looks anguished, like he wants to speak, but then the pain in his eyes disappears as if it was never there in the first place.
Screw it.I point at the hard ground between us. “I just want to sleep here. Is that so much to ask?” I point to my bedroll lying next to his, like I’m planting a flag, staking my claim on land that belongs to him.
Finally, Dietan raises his chin and looks down at me, a prince again, unmovable. “Yes, you signed up for this,” he says, his voice low. “I told you it would be a hard journey. I told you not to come. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more than was agreed. And you can’t stay here.”
I’m sure as hell not going to make this easy for him. We both know what’s out there. He’ll have to throw me out himself. I step so close to him that I can smell the soap he used. I look up at him, once again irritated by how stupidly tall he is. I could slap him—Ishould.
Instead, shocking even myself with my boldness, I put my hands on his face and force him to look me in the eye. My anger dissipates, leaving only pain and fear. “I’m scared, okay? After what happened to Lydia, what we saw in that village, I just want to sleep somewhere I feel safe.” Though it kills me to admit it, I finally add, “I feel safe with you.”
He puts his hands on mine and wrenches them away, but I fight him. We stand there, locked in place. His eyes are filled with ice and fire.
His hold on my wrists is tight. His pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare.
“It’s for your own safety. Why won’t you listen?” he says. And then, as if he can’t help himself, he pulls me tightly against him.
He’s holding me so closely I can feel his entire body against mine. He’s all muscle pressing against my softest parts. I can’t breathe. He feels so good. He bends down, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, and groans. “Gods, why are you so infuriating?”
“I could say the same about you,” I murmur, breathing against his warm, bare chest. “Let me stay here, just for tonight.”
“I wish I could. I really wish I could,” he says raggedly, “but I can’t.” He tears himself away and practically pushes me away from him, still holding the book he was reading.
I stumble, catching my footing at the last minute before I fall. Harvest Mother, what is wrong with him? He’s hot and cold, and cold again.
“You asked me to help you, to come on this quest with you. I know when we’re in public—when you kiss my cheek and hold me for everyone to see—it’s all an act. But you know what I think?” Dietan lifts an eyebrow. He looks almost as indifferent as a statue. He’s so beautiful in the firelight, but now I can see the turmoil behind his eyes. “I think you’re afraid to admit that you have feelings for me. Real feelings—as much as you pretend you don’t. And that’s the true reason you’re sending me away—because you can’t stand to think you might like some peasant barmaid for more than just a roll in the hay!”
He has a scary smile on his face. I know I’m right, so I continue.
“That’s the truth, isn’t it? You hate me, but you hate yourself more because you want me! And Iknowyou want me!” I wave a hand at my body. “Even if you act like a cold, indifferent prince, Iknowyou! So just admit it!”
Dietan smiles like he’s gotten caught. He drags his tongue against his bottom teeth. Neither of us moves, until he throws his book across the tent in a fit of temper. A forceful gale suddenly blows all around, headed toward me.
I almost laugh, but I don’t, because Dietan suddenly collapses. He falls to the floor, his hands at his throat.The wind dies before it can hurt me.
