I glance at Jax’s hazel-green eyes, and just like that moment with Rhen in the courtyard, I have to remind myself that I’m here, I’m safe, it’s over, it’s done. His gaze is steady, unflinching now, his expression patient.
He doesn’t move. He waits, and he doesn’t look away.
Maybe that’s what gives me the courage to continue. I take a long breath. “I was twelve,” I say. “I kept begging them not to hurt my sisters, and they said thatIwould have to do. I didn’t even know what they meant. But I …” I have to grimace. “I learned rather quickly. And then, after it was done, my mother begged my father to figure out a way to make it right. So he went into town and tried to find someone to help with his debts. A man named Worwick owned a tourney, and he was known to offer good money for trade. I don’t know what Worwick asked for, or if my father simplyofferedme, but I was sold into his service for five years.” I rub at the back of my neck. “Worwick wasn’t a bad man. I worked in the stables and I cleaned the tourney. I had food to eat, and I could scrape together a few coins of my own every now and again. But after what happened … the soldiers always frightened me. I used to hide …” My voice trails off. My body wants to shudder again, but I force myself still.
“Yet you became a soldier,” Jax says softly.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because …” I take a long breath and let it out. “Because Grey expected it of me. And I never want to disappoint him.”
He’s studying me so intently. “So when you said you made a misstep …”
“I spoke true. He ordered me to remain at the Crystal Palace after what happened with Lord Alek. But I don’t regret the time I spent herewith you. I don’t feel remorse, and I think Grey can sense that. For the first time, it’s put us at odds.”
“You’re at odds … with theking.”
His tone makes me smile. “Well. Yes. But you must understand, our relationship has always been deeper than simple friendship, different from that of a ruler and his servant. When we met, Grey didn’t just save my life, Jax. He put a sword in my hand and taught me how to savemyself. He isgoodand he isjustand he will do everything in his power to protect Syhl ShallowandEmberfall. I was the first person to swear fealty to him, and I would do it again right this very instant if he asked it of me.”
Jax is staring at me, and I wish I could read his expression. The wariness is gone, though, and that heavy lock of dark hair has fallen across his forehead again. I reach out to twist it through my fingers.
“You didn’t have to share that with me,” he says.
“I wanted you to know.” I let my thumb graze his mouth, and his lips part, just a fraction.
I shouldn’t do this. All the talk of the king should be a reminder of my duties and obligations. Instead, I feel like the Crystal Palace is a million miles away, and here in this room, I’m just Tycho, and he’s just Jax. His hair is like silk and his eyes are like jewels and now he knows my darkest secrets, just like I’ve learned his. I shouldn’t be thinking about his lips or his hands or imagining the taste of his breath.
But Iam, and once I have the thought, there’s no room for anything else. I tangle my hand in his hair, then slip out of my chair to press my mouth to his.
CHAPTER 31
JAX
Maybe my father really did knock me out and none of this is happening. Because I can’t imagine any version of reality where Lord Tycho, the King’s Courier, would have his hands buried in my hair and his breath on my tongue.
Or maybe I’m dead. But if this is death, I’m not complaining.
I’m afraid to open my eyes, like I’ll wake up and discover I’m dreaming. My other senses are overwhelmed, from the sweet taste of the wine on his lips to the heady scent of his skin, something earthy and raw like the forest in early morning. He touched my hair so delicately, and his hands are so gentle, but there’s no restraint in the way he kisses me. My fingers find his chest, clenching in the fabric of his shirt, and my heart kicks against my ribs to find him soclose. When one of his hands leaves my face to stroke up the length of my side, I gasp and suck in a breath.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips. “Stop?”
It’s enough to force my eyes open, though I wouldn’t even stop if I were drowning. But then I realize how he’s so close: Tycho has goneto his knees in front of my chair. His hair is gold in the firelight, his eyes shadowed.
I have to swallow. He truly is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’m afraid to touch him now, as if he’ll vanish. But he’s so close that I can’tnottouch him. I put my palm against his face, finding his jaw a little rough. When my thumb strokes across his mouth, his lips part, and I feel the edge of his teeth, the bare brush of his tongue. His hands settle on my knees, fingers pressing into the muscle there, and he leans in to kiss me again. Gentler this time. Agonizingly slow.
This is like the moment when he healed me, but a thousand times better, my entire body filling with honey and heat. My hands find his hands, sliding up his forearms until I reach the curved muscle of his biceps. There’s a part of me that wants to tackle him to the floor, to feel the strength and power that I know hides behind his gentle touch. But when my hands slide up the column of his neck, his kisses stop, his mouth hesitating against mine.
I don’t know if this is about what he just revealed about his childhood, or if it’s related to the scars on his back, but I wait, letting him breathe against me. There’s an element of trust to this, and I don’t want to violate that. He’s the one with the status and the magic and the weapons, but in this moment, none of that matters. He’s offered me a vulnerable bit ofhimself. Possibly themostvulnerable bit of himself.
Maybe that’s what gives me the courage to shift a little closer so I can whisper along his jaw. “Stop?”
He shakes his head, but it’s a tiny movement, an uncertain movement, so I wait, our faces almost pressed together, my fingers still against his neck. His breathing seems too quick, and his pulse is a strong beat under my fingertips. I can sense his tension now, but he winds a finger through a strand of my hair again, almost as tentative as when he did it the first time.
He kisses me lightly, then withdraws to sit back on his heels. Hischeeks are a bit flushed, his hair a bit wild. “As I said, far too little practice with courtship.”
It’s so unexpected and he’s so serious that I almost burst out laughing. I have to rub my hands over my face. My brain seems incapable of forming a coherent thought, and I’m worried if I try to speak the only thing that will come out of my mouth is going to sound likeguh.
