“Thorne,” I say, and my mouth stretches into a wider smile. I’ve half a mind to simply blurt everything out, that I rejected Monty, that I release him from our bargain, that we must find another way to save our families, and most of all that I—
That I…
I exhale a slow breath. My final confession terrifies me.
Can I tell him how I feel?
Can I even trust my feelings?
Can I let myself feel this way about him?
I try to summon my rage over his hurtful actions…but it’s gone. There’s a fierce conviction inside me that knows what he did was wrong—that using our cursed bond and tricking me into putting my family to sleep was deplorable—but something warmer, softer has outgrown every darker feeling I’ve had for him. It blooms from the dances we shared in my dreams, from the conversations we had, from the way he’s defended me with Monty and his game, from how he rescued me from the runaway horse, tended my wounds, teased me, held me, kissed me. From the dancing slippers he gifted me. From the flirtatious game we played ofwho can make the other flustered.
From the way my heart melts in his presence.
The way my chest opens fully for the first time.
No, this isn’t something I can simply blurt out. This is something to handle with the tenderest care.
I take a step closer to him. The warmth of his proximity nearly has me undone as everything inside me begs to wrap my arms around his neck.
Soon.
“To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?” Thorne asks, his lips quirking slightly at the wordpleasure.
Inhale. Exhale. I can do this.
“I just played my final game with Monty,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice steady.
His expression goes blank. “Oh?”
A satisfied thrill goes through me at the subtle break in his voice. I know I shouldn’t delight in tormenting him now, not with such sweet feelings warming the air between us, but I can’t resist. A sliver of darkness just might be inherent to my nature. As I believe it is with Thorne too.
“I thought there were supposed to be two more games,” he says, regaining his composure.
“Monty was bored. He gave me a final game to play. One that would automatically result in my win if I participated.”
His jaw tightens. “What game?”
I tilt my head slightly to the side. “He asked me to kiss him the way I kissed you yesterday.”
“And did you?” Each word is clipped. Sharp. I can tell he’s trying with all his might to remain nonchalant yet failing miserably.
“No.” I step even closer and slowly lift a hand to his torso. It trembles as I rest it over his heart. He intakes a sharp breath, his chest pulsing a frantic tempo against my palm. Finally, I drop every ounce of teasing, taunting, tormenting, and infuse my tone with sincerity. Locking my eyes with his, I say, “I can’t kiss him the way I kissed you. I can’t kiss anyone like that, because…the way I kissed you is just for you.”
“Briony.” He steps closer, his heart thudding faster as he cradles my cheek with his palm. His gaze sweeps down to my lips, then back to my eyes. “What does this mean?”
A delightful terror runs through me, but I’m ready now. “It means I—”
The sound of the door opening has me jumping, my words lodged in my throat. Thorne and I whirl around to face the interlopers.
Mr. Boris and Minka rush in, paying no heed to the private moment they interrupted. As I take in Minka’s pale cheeks and the way Mr. Boris wrings his hand, my irritation turns to fear.
“Highness,” Mr. Boris says, tone laced with panic, “we’ve received a letter from Nocturnus Palace. There’s trouble.”
* * *
I stareat the hastily scrawled note in my hands, willing it to say more than it does. Yet no matter how many times I read it over, I fail to glean the clarity I seek. I scan it once more anyways, reading each word slowly.
