Her mouth opens. Closes.
“Look at that,” I say. “Maybe Icansolve it.”
“But what if Father dies, and the alliance fails?” She pauses. “And what if the king’s magic really is causing his fields to go barren?”
I snort. “Now, those are problems I definitely can’t solve. Turn around so I can get dressed.”
She gives me a rueful look. “What if I don’t want to?”
“Suit yourself.” I drop the towel.
She whirls so quickly she almost smacks her face right into the wardrobe. “Asher! You areneverthis bold!”
She’s right, I’m not. But much like the way I mentioned the fighting rings, there’s something a bit freeing about knowing my past is no longer a secret. That she finally sees me—and it didn’t scare her away. Maybe that’s wrapped up in the way the king doesn’t flinch from my past. A new emotion has been building in my chest for the last couple days, and it’s so unfamiliar that I can’t even identify it. It’s not confidence or courage. It’s something else entirely. It’s an easing. A loosening. Not all the way—nowhere close—but it’s something.
I reach for the trousers. “Well, I told you about using your teeth.”
Her cheeks turn pink. She says nothing for a long moment, and I work the laces.
“Can I ask you a question?” she finally says, and her voice goes a bit quiet.
I tug a tunic over my head. “Anything.”
“Do you fancy Ky?”
I freeze. The question is sobering, especially since I don’t know how to answer.
“I don’t know how to fancy anyone anymore,” I say.
Despite that, I can’t stop thinking about the king on top of her. I can’t stop thinking about the weight of his hand on my face, or the way he offered me a bowl of food after I tried to kill his soldier. I can’t stop thinking about that moment in the tavern when they were both touching me at once, how I felt it right down to my core. Even now, it’s a low pulse of heat in my belly.
I need to stop thinking about this. Since enduring the slavers, I’ve never wanted anyone but Jory.
“You lethimtouch you,” she says quietly.
I swallow, because I didn’t realize it was so obvious. To my surprise, warmth is crawling up my neck. I look over at her. “Do you fancy the king?”
“I don’t want to,” she says softly, but her cheeks darken, and I know she’s thinking of his body pinning her to the ground, the way his hand stroked over her breast.
Fuck. Now I’m thinking of it, too. I frown, then run a hand back through my damp hair. “I don’t want to either.”
“You were so angry last night.” She pauses. “I thought you might be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I say, and I mean it. Whatever I feel, it’s not jealousy. At least not entirely.
“Really?”
“Jory.” She’s still turned toward the windows, staring out at the mountains. I cross the distance between us and put my hands on her waist, then pull her flush against me. She gasps in surprise, but her body yields under my hands, and she all but melts right into me. Even clothed, feeling the warm curve of her ass against me is more intense than I expected, and it pulls a low sound from my throat.
I lean down to whisper into her ear. “Do Ifeeljealous?”
“Asher,” she breathes, leaning into me. I desperately want to stroke my hands up her body. To finish everything we started in the washroom.
There’s a part of me that wishes I hadn’t told her the truth. The boy she knew would pull away and put some distance between us. But now she’s pressing herself against me, her ribs heaving a bit against mine. Instead of slinking into the shadows, I want to hitch up her skirts and bend her over against the bed.
But then I think of the way her hand slipped into my hair. How it made me jerk back. I think of what she’s longing for—and everything I’m afraid of. My heart stutters a little.
I let go and step back.
