“Please,” I whimpered somewhere around the fourth time. Or maybe the fifth. I had lost count. “Please, I can’t—”
“One more.” His mouth found that spot behind my ear. “Give me one more, Briar.”
“I—oh—”
I gave him one more.
And one more after that.
Until there was no way to know where he ended or where I began. All I knew was that when we looked into each other eyes—
“I love you.”
I whispered it out loud this time. I had to.
“And I love you.”
And it seemed he felt the same way, too.
He gathered me against his chest, and in the silence that followed, I tried to stop myself from thinking...but failed. Memories of Aretha crowded my mind, but when I tried to speak to Mik’hail—
“Sleep, Briar.”
It seemed he already knew.
“Rest will do us both good—” He pressed his lips to my hair. “—and we’ll be able to think more clearly.”
“But—”
“Sleep, Briar.”
I wanted to argue. But my eyes were already drifting shut, and my body felt like it was floating, and the next thing I knew...it was already the next day, but the space next to mine was empty.
I rose slowly, wincing and blushing at the same time when I realized how certain parts of my body ached with discomfort. I couldn’t stop thinking of him as I dressed myself, but I also couldn’t help wondering if that was okay. Even though I knew what he said was true, and that Aretha’s ordeal didn’t mean I was supposed to forget that theirs was nothing but a business match—
Why couldn’t I just stop worrying? Why did I have such a hard time believing that the sheikh would remain mine? Why oh why did he have to be someone else’s first?
I stepped out of my room without making any noise, a by-product of my childhood years, where my parents instilled in me the importance of being silent and blending in so that I wouldn’t accidentally steal the spotlight from Aretha’s.
My heart grew heavier as I walked in search of the sheikh, my steps only slowing down when I heard voices coming from the throne room. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop—
“The treaty signed by my father—”
But the moment I realized it was Mik’hail who was speaking, my feet were already carrying me down the corridor, and before I knew it, I was pressing myself against the wall outside the partially open doors.
“—the betrothal was binding—”
“—cannot simply cast aside Lady Aretha—”
Through the gap in the doors, I could see men in formal diplomatic attire, at least a dozen of them, and some of them familiar. I knew right away they were envoys from Suneria, the kingdom where my family and I used to live.
“The Sheikh of Layla was promised to the eldest daughter of the House of Desmonde.” The man who spoke seemed to be the leader of the delegation, his voice sharp and accusing.
“Lady Aretha was believed dead.” Mik’hail’s voice was calm, but I could hear the steel beneath it. “The betrothal was dissolved.”
“She is not dead. She is here, in your palace, and if Layla does not honor its commitment, Suneria will have no choice but to impose sanctions. Tariffs. The freezing of all Sunerian assets in Layla and all Laylan assets in Suneria.” The man’s voice hardened. “We are one of your largest trading partners, Your Highness. I trust you understand what that means.”
“You would threaten economic war,” Mik’hail said slowly, “over a marriage contract?”
