A slow, practiced press—warmth without fire, sweetness without weight. The kind of kiss designed to be remembered, not felt. His lips lingered, but my pulse never stuttered. No heat rose beneath my skin.
His mouth still held the rich, syrupy sweetness of the mead we’d shared during the audience. I didn’t pull away. Not because I wanted him—though a selfish part of me craved the intoxicating, radiant glow of his attention—but because I needed to know if an aching longing would build up within me from our nearness, the scent of his skin, the feel of his breath.
There was only the flicker of a candle.
He wasn’t trying to seduce me. He was testing to see if whatever spark he thought he felt was real or imagined.
WhenNisien stepped back, I opened my eyes and whispered, “You don’t truly feel for me in that way.”
He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe not. But someone else might.”
The meaning landed with a thud in my chest.
I looked past him, toward the corridor we’d exited. The wind shifted again. That same nagging feeling I’d had on that fateful day in Caervorn returned—like sheathed steel watching.
“Or maybe I wanted to see what kind of reaction I’d get out of you both,” Nisien admitted without shame. His next smile was sharp and strategic. “I don’t need your heart, Isca,” he added. “But I needed to know what kind of leader you might be. You proved that today.”
Leader? I was close to laughing, but his earnestness stopped me.
There was no one else in the garden, but an unmistakable shadow moved past the window in the corridor, disappearing instantly the moment I looked over. I felt a tightness in my chest, butnothingfrom the shadow, not a single ounce of emotion.
I stepped back from Nisien. “Thank you for your honesty.”
With no hint of mockery in his gesture, he inclined his head a little and extended his arm for me to take again.
As we strolled back to the hall in silence, I wasn’t sure if I wanted Emrys to have seen that kiss. Part of me feared his judgment, and another part feared just how much I wanted him to care.
Chapter 29
Emrys
I tore myself away from the window before I shattered it with my fists or an uncontrolled burst of magic that would’ve broken the stone walls too. Her lips had been on his, and he’d caressed her face. My twin—the better, unbroken,favoredone—had been chosen by her too.
The curse’s claws scratched the inside of my ribs, raking sharp hooks across muscle and bone. I had to disappear. Had to get away, to lock myself in my chambers where I could choke on my jealousy. Maybe I could swallow the violence down with it. Maybe.
My boots echoed against the unfeeling stone as I stalked through the corridor toward my chambers. In my current state, more predator than man, quick movement drew my attention. It was a servant tiptoeing from the queen’s chambers opposite my own.
Herchambers.
I knew every man and woman who served this castle, and this face was a stranger’s. Worse still, Nisien and I had forbidden any men from entering her rooms without our explicit permission because we couldn’t risk our ally’s female envoy feeling afraid while in her rooms.
I slowed, my rage sharpening into purpose, while the beast within me crouched, ready to pounce. This invader thought to skulk in unnoticed, steal whatever trinket he thought she might have, then slink away like a rat from grain he’d spoiled by his mere presence. He’d left empty-handed because she had nothing to steal. Because the world, theAssembly and their brutal way of running Caervorn, had stolen everything from her already.
She deserved so much more. Luckily, my manservant still held the gift I hoped she’d wear tomorrow. It was only a tiny fraction of the gold she deserved, but I knew better than to give her too much. Any more would declare everything I was still desperately trying to keep locked behind bars inside my chest.
I was on the thief in an instant, magic driving me faster than the capacity of human flesh. One hand seized his collar, lifting him into the air, feet dangling. The moment I touched him, my pulse roared along with the curse.
Beneath his tunic, there was a cold shell of chainmail.
I’d already known this wasn’t one of our servants, but now I also knew that this man was a mage—a skilled one. I felt the magic pooling beneath his skin, potent and steady, ready to strike.
Inmycastle.
I couldn’t do this in the open halls.
With a surge of power, I cast us into the forgotten ruin of an old storehouse past the glacis, into the fields. The roof of the shack sagged inward, open to the sky above, and half its beams had already surrendered to gravity. The air was thick with the musty stench of rot and the smell of the damp earth that had replaced the original floor.
I slammed him down into the mud, wards snapping into place around us until silence pressed as heavily as the collapsing walls.
