“You made it clear you never wanted to hear from me again.”
She blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”
He pushed off from the door and began walking toward her, his words dry and rehearsed. “We cannot see each other anymore. I can’t explain. All you need to know is that I can’t love you. I could never love a bastard.” He paused several feet away from her. “Do you deny you wrote those things?”
She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but she stopped herself. His words echoed through her mind, slamming against ones her heart had never let herself forget. “Why are you taking my words out of context like that?”
He gave her a bewildered look. “What other context was there? You wrote me three lines.”
“I wrote you far more than that,” she said, voice catching on the lump in her throat. She mirrored what he’d done moments ago, walking toward him while she recited her letter, every word punctuated with rage. “Larylis, Father has said we cannot see each other anymore. I’ve told him how much I love you. I’ve told him that I will have only you. He will not listen. He thinks you’re simply a fancy I’ll grow out of. No matter what I say to try and explain the depths of my feelings, he tells me I could never love a bastard.”
She paused when only a foot of space remained between them. Larylis’ complexion had gone pale, his face slack. She wasn’t sure what his countenance meant but it gave her no small amount of satisfaction.
She continued reciting her letter, her voice quavering with emotion. “But he’s wrong. I love you. You need to know that. No matter how they try to keep us apart I will always love you. I can’t live without you, and I know you feel the same about me. Let us proceed with our plans without their blessing. Meet me at the Godskeep in Salissera at dawn on the twenty-first. I don’t care if I lose my place as heir. All I need is you. Please come. Please. I’ll be there.”
Mareleau felt cold in the wake of her words. She felt empty, stripped of pride and anger alike. All that was left was truth. Vulnerability. She searched Larylis’ face, aware of the way he trembled, the way his hands curled into tight fists. When it was clear he had nothing to say, she spoke again, doing her best to keep her voice level. “You never came. I waited for you for two days. I was…humiliated. Heartbroken. Mother found me.”
Larylis let out a shaky sigh. They stood so close, Mareleau felt his breath warm her face. She knew she should put space between them, but she couldn’t move. Finally, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t understand. I never received that letter. I received only those three lines.”
She frowned. How was that possible?
“The letter you wrote to Teryn—”
“I never wrote him a letter.”
Larylis dropped his eyes from hers and ran a hand over his face. “Seven devils,” he said under his breath. “Your letters were forged. Two taken from one, each word copied from truth.”
A chill ran down her spine. She wanted to deny the plausibility, but the facts made it painfully clear. No letter left the palace without someone knowing about it. After she was caught kissing Larylis in the stables three years ago, which resulted in her being forbidden from seeing or even speaking to him, it made sense that her parents would do anything to keep her fromembarrassing herself further, as they’d liked to say. She’d thought she’d been discreet when she’d sent the letter, but was it possible she’d overestimated her own cunning?
Larylis slowly met her gaze again. “Everything about that letter, from the slant of your script to the length of your loops looked exactly as if it had been penned by your hand. Teryn showed me the letter he’d received. It looked the same.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Neither letter’s content clued you in to the truth? You couldn’t possibly have believed I’d be so cold to you while being even remotely warm toward your brother.”
“I found out about your engagement to him as soon as I returned home. I figured you’d changed your mind, that you realized he was a better match—”
“How could you believe such a thing?”
“What else was I to believe? Every word in that letter was true.” His face twisted with agony.
“No—”
“It was. I am a bastard. You…you can’t love me.”
“But I…” She paused, debating what to say. Everything inside her yearned to reach for him, to wipe that look off his face. She didn’t know what would happen if she did. If she let go of three years of hatred, resentment, and indignation…what would be left? He’d broken her heart, unwittingly or not. Then again, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit she’d never fully given up on him. No matter how shattered she’d become, no matter how many thorns had pierced her aching heart and split it into shards, threads had remained, connecting every fragment. She’d ignored them, burned them into rage, but despite her best efforts over the last three years, they’d come back. Every time she’d thought of him, remembered their time together, a thread would return, weaving through the hurt and the betrayal to repair the broken pieces. Now more than ever, those threads were there, growing. Piece by piece by piece, what she’d thought was broken collided back together. Her chest felt warmer than it ever had before. It bloomed into words that she rolled around on her tongue, warm and sweet with only a hint of bitter. She tasted them, tested them, before they breached her lips. “I still do,” she whispered.
Larylis’ throat bobbed. His brow was furrowed, eyes glazed.
She took a trembling step closer and reached a tentative hand for his chest. He inhaled a sharp breath as her fingers landed on his silk jacket. Her own breaths came hard and fast, her breasts heaving above her lace bodice. Part of her dreaded his answer to her next question, but she had to know the truth. Locking her eyes on his, she asked, “Do you? Do you still love me?”
His answer came out low and deep. “I’ve never stopped.”
Her hands came to his collar at the same moment his wound behind her back. She claimed his lips with a greedy kiss, one of fire, desperation, and regret. They’d never kissed like this, like the other’s lips were their only source of air. She arched into him, pulling him closer, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue moved against hers and hers against his. They were in perfect tandem, perfect agreement. One of his hands wove into her hair, sending pins clattering to the ground, while the other cupped the front of her bodice. She gasped against his mouth and reached for his neckcloth, untying it with frantic fingers. Once it was free, she slid her hands down his chest, beneath his jacket. He aided her efforts to free himself from it. Then she began working the buttons of his waistcoat, all the while never taking her lips from his. His palms moved to her shoulders and down the length of each arm, pausing when his hands landed on top of hers. She was still struggling with his buttons when he gave her fingers a soft squeeze. Only then did she realize he was pulling away from her. Her heart sank as her lips left his. She searched his face, saw desire still burning in his eyes. But the longer she watched him, the more his expression began to fall.
With her hands still gathered in his, he removed them from his waistcoat and took a step away. “I can’t do this,” he said, letting her hands slide from his palms. “You’re engaged to my brother.”
She gaped at him for several moments before she could find her voice. It came out breathy, still shallow in the wake of their passion. “I will never marry him.”
“Your engagement is more final now than it was before.”
