“Not really.”
That probably meansyes, but I bat my lashes at him, teasing. “Did another woman catch your eye?”
He takes another bite, lifting one shoulder in an upside-down shrug. “Eh.”
I lose the smile. “Eh!What does that mean?”
His eyebrows go up, and he grins. “Jealous?”
Yes. It’s like a hot flare through my chest, and I have no right to feel it.
I glare at him anyway. “You’re going to choke.”
“I think that’s quite literally impossible.”
“You’re dodging my question.”
“You’re being ridiculous. No one caught my eye.” His voice is so deep and gentle, his eyes simultaneously tempting and taunting, a complete contrast to the deadly weapons that are nearly invisible against his body. He breaks the remaining cookie in half and holds out a piece between two gloved fingers. “Want some?”
My heart skips. He’s been gone for so long, but every time he reappears, it feels like it’s barely been five minutes.
I crawl forward on my knees. I’m tempted to bite the cookie rightfrom his fingers, because there’s something in Asher that always makes me want to drag him into my bed and forget everything else exists.
But he wouldn’t like it. Sometimes I’ll forget myself and hug him, and he’ll stiffen like a statue. “You’re a princess,” he’ll say. “I’m nothing. I’m no one.”
He wasn’t always like that. When we were younger, we’d sneak out of the palace all the time. I still have vivid memories of the night I slipped away from my fifteenth birthday celebration and met Asher in the stables. The party had gone on for hours, and no one cared very much aboutmyinvolvement anymore. We climbed the ladder to the shadowed hayloft, sharing gossip about the lords and ladies we’d seen at the party, both of us a little tipsy from the blackberry wine. The night started out very innocent, very chaste. But as darkness closed in, our words turned soft and serious. We spread a blanket over the hay so we wouldn’t dirty our clothes, then lay beside each other, our fingers carefully wound together—until they weren’t. His fingertips boldly traced my cheek, my jaw, my neck. It wasn’t the first time we’d touched each other, but it was the first time in the dark, in private, with so much heady emotion between us. I shivered and found the courage to explore the soft hollow of his throat, twisting the hair that drifted across his forehead, and finally dragging my thumb across his lower lip.
I’ll never forget the way his breath caught, how his hands closed on my waist to pull me closer. I’d heard Mother’s ladies giggling over the men at court, the way they gossiped about someone’s trousers growing tight, or a man’s hardness pressing against their thigh. I’d never understood what they meant until that night, because when Asher pressed against me, I felt the hard ridge of him through our clothing, and something inside me seemed to bloom. He tugged at the hem of my skirts, his fingers slipping over my ankle, then my calf. With each brush of his hands, he caused a tightening in my belly, a clenching between my legs. His eyes were fixed on my lips, his breathing a little quick. His mother was the queen’s lady, and I was the princess, and if we were caught, it would’ve been a scandal beyond measure. I remember being terrified that he’d close the distance between us.
I desperately wanted him to do it anyway.
“Jory,” he whispered, my name like a promise. When his mouth found mine, I drowned in the taste of him. His tongue brushed my lips, that daring hand finding its way along my knee, his fingers grazing my thigh.
Then a night watchman strolled into the barn down below, whistling while he went about his duties. Asher and I snapped apart, our hearts pounding. The moment was broken, our roles remembered. We snuck back to the party, perfectly behaved. It was my first kiss. My only kiss.
A week later, my mother was killed, his mother was executed for treason, and Asher was dragged out of the palace in chains.
And now I’ve been promised to another man.
I take the piece of cookie with my fingers. “Thank you.”
His eyes trace my face. “You’re welcome.” He pauses, and his voice turns solemn. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
I inhale to answer—but my breath catches. It’s been months...and I suddenly realize it could be forever. I don’t even know if Asher could cross the border into Incendar. Or if I’d be able to visit home.
I take a bite of cookie to try to cover it up.
Asher isn’t fooled. A tiny line appears between his eyebrows. “Ah, Jory.” He swings his body upward, twisting in the air as he releases the beam. He lands neatly on the bed in front of me, every movement as agile as a cat. He drops to sit cross-legged, knee to knee with me like we’re young again, staying awake to whisper long after the maids have doused the lanterns.
“Do you know what’s happening?” I say, and my breath clouds faintly with the words.
“Which part?” he says quietly. “That you’ve been sold away to Incendar? Or that your father is dying, and without this alliance, Astranza could be razed by Draegonis?”
I gasp and look up at the crisscrossed rafters climbing high above me. They go all the way to the ceiling, where he would have been invisible in the shadows, especially with every fire doused. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugs a little. “Long enough.”
“Long enough?” I whisper furiously. “I’ve been thinking I would never see you again!” I punch him in the shoulder.
