Saraj pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “He’s defending my honor.”
Trei ducked away from Zephyr’s sharp claws. “I’d appreciate it if you conveyed to him that I’m hardly deflowering you for the first time.”
Saraj whistled to the falcon, who gave Trei one final sharp caw of warning and then flew onto a wooden perch that rested a few feet above Saraj’s shoulder. She reached up to stroke the bird’s chest feathers tenderly. “There now. Good bird.”
“Good bird?” Trei balked. “He attacked me!”
Saraj crossed her arms over her bare chest. “He barely scratched you. He was just being protective. That’s what he’s trained to do.”
As Trei smoothed back his hair, throwing the bird on its perch a frosty look, he muttered, “I’m starting to regret recommending you for this position.”
Five years ago, Trei had caught Saraj stealing his favorite quill pen from the castle library.Are you finally going to do something about it?she had challenged him, dragging the quill down the length of her neck. And he finally had: He became a thief himself and stole a kiss.
Since that first kiss, Trei had made it his mission to find the orphan girl a place in the castle where her cleverness would be rewarded. He’d recommended her as an apprentice to the former falconry master and wasn’t surprised when Saraj had taken to the art instantly. After all, she was just as clever as the birds, and it gave her the freedom she longed for. Six months ago, when the falconry master had taken ill, Saraj had been appointed the lead falconer in his place.
Saraj slid her arms around Trei’s neck to mollify him. That was all it took for Trei to forget about Zephyr’s attack. Her bare, lithe body pressed to his soldier’s uniform immediately reawakened his passions.
He stole her lips in a soft kiss. She slackened beneath him, melding her curves into the planes of his muscles. His hand fell to her hips and pulled her closer, firmly. She responded by wrapping a leg around his hips.
He captured her thigh in his grip and took her mouth in a heated kiss. As her fingers clutched around his shoulders, she whispered, “Deflower me again, Trei Barendur.”
It didn’t take him long to free his cock, and then he had both her thighs in his grip with her long legs wrapped around his back.
Their bodies pressed together to become one. Saraj let out a moan as she wiggled to deepen their lovemaking. Trei, honed from long days of training with the Baer army, easily supported her weight around his hips. He thrust into her again and again with a groan. Her body welcomed him, growing warm and wet.
His nerves burned with pleasure as he let out a release, matched a brief moment later by her own.
Breathing hard, Trei tossed his head back as his fingers dug into her thighs. “Sacred hell, Saraj.”
“I didn’t think a future king cursed,” she whispered a tease in his ear. “Then again, I didn’t think a king could screw like that.”
He lowered her down as his heartbeat still throbbed. She slid back into her dress and combed her fingers through her hair.
As he refastened his pants, he paused, then said, “My aunt can give you the special tea, like last time.”
Saraj’s smile was lazy with pleasure as she leaned back against the stone wall. “Don’t worry, Trei Barendur, I don’t intend to be a mother yet.”
He swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful falconer. For years, his heart had belonged only to her. And now that they were of marrying age, it increasingly weighed on him that he wanted more than a few tumbles in the straw.
“Would it be the worst thing?” he said softly.
Her green eyes flashed in a warning. “I like my freedom, Trei. You know that.”
“You like me, too, do you not?”
She gave him a sympathetic smile as she squeezed his hand. “You’ll be king of the Baersladen one day. My mother was a vagabond, and my father was a woodcutter.”
“Royals are forbidden from marrying commoners in the southern kingdoms like the Mirien, but not here. The Baersladen has no rules against it.”
An uncertain look flickered over her features. “I like where I am. Working with the falcons, living on my own. Do you really think I would make a good queen?”
She said it as though she was joking, but Trei nodded gravely. “I do.”
She took a deep breath. Then she reached up to where Zephyr rested on the wooden perch and stroked his chest feathers again before saying, “Your father is in good health. It will be years before there’s even a chance you’ll take the throne. Until then, let me have my falcons and my freedom.”
She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips again. He squeezed her waist, wishing he didn’t have to let go.
When she sank back down, she asked, “If the Mirien requires a princess to marry a prince, does that mean your brother is free to marry his Mir princess?”
