The sound of his name on her lips sent his pulse racing. It was the first time he’d heard her say it since the day he’d been sent back home. That was the last time they’d spoken. The last time they’d stood close enough to touch. Slowly, he turned to face her.
She was still dressed in the same silvery blue gown she’d worn during the poetry competition, but it hung a little looser off her curved frame, as if she’d undone her laces for comfort. Her hair too hung differently, with pearls and flowers dangling haphazardly from the ends. A portion of her pale tresses had been pulled into a crooked braid, one she anxiously fumbled with now.
It was a braid Larylis had seen many times before. She always braided her hair when she was nervous. Or happy. There was a time he’d fantasized about unraveling that braid himself, unraveling the laces of her gown, trailing kisses down her?—
He shuttered his eyes, forcing himself back to the present so he could gather his composure. He sketched a stiff bow. “Princess Mareleau.”
She stood silent, her fingers winding around the ends of her braid. Her expression flickered with uncertainty, her lips darting between a frown and the barest ghost of a smile. She opened her mouth as if to speak but quickly snapped it shut. Releasing her braid, she folded her hands demurely at her waist. She stood tall, chin lifted, features schooled behind a haughty countenance. “I said, what are you doing here?”
He averted his gaze as if she wasn’t worth looking at. If there was one thing he’d learned about being a bastard, oftentimes on the receiving end of insults and mockery, it was how to pretend things didn’t bother him. “I certainly wasn’t looking for trouble,” he drawled, “but it seems I’ve found it. Good evening, Your Highness.” He made to step away, but she only drew closer, forcing him to halt in place. The aroma of jasmine invaded his senses, making his lungs feel tight. It was a scent he’d thought he’d forgotten. He’d been wrong. Now that she stood so close, he found himself unable to keep his eyes off her.
Seven gods, she was beautiful. More so than he remembered.
It was an observation better left forgotten, one he banished before it could breach his lips in the form of a compliment.
“Is there more you wanted from me, Highness?” His words came out far rougher than he’d intended. But when he saw Mareleau stiffen and take a step back, he was grateful for his inadvertent gruffness, if only to place more distance between himself and that intoxicating jasmine.
Her gaze turned cold. “How did you like the poetry competition?”
“You mean the way you publicly insulted my brother by allowing eight other men to compete for your hand?” He pulled his lips into a humorless smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Charming.”
Her cheeks reddened, her eyes narrowing as she put her hands on her hips. “You can’t blame me for not wanting to marry your brother.” Her voice trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly above the bodice of her gown.
Larylis was surprised at how flustered she was. Finally, he managed to look away from her again, keeping his gaze fixed firmly over her head. “Do you enjoy torturing your suitors?”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “A girl must take pleasure where she can.”
“Because a man’s sincere admiration isn’t pleasure enough for you.”
“Sincere.” She scoffed. “I haven’t met a sincere man in my life.”
Larylis jutted out his bottom lip in a mock pout. “What a shame. At least you can settle for riches and a title, which I’m sure you value far more.”
Her mouth fell open in indignation.
That prompted a wicked grin to form on his lips. He knew he shouldn’t take any joy in irritating her. It wasn’t like he blamed her for rejecting him all those years ago. He understood her position. Her duties. What he couldn’t forgive was her treatment of Teryn. Her flagrant mockery of their engagement. The one she’d once insisted by way of letter that she was so excited about.
He brushed a piece of lint off his silk waistcoat, then assessed his nails. “If we’re done here, I have far more entertaining matters to attend to.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh? Are you going to dinner then?”
“That depends. If you’ll be there, I’d rather clean the stables.”
She blinked at him, and her lips once again darted between a frown and a smile. He couldn’t fathom why she’d consider smiling after such an insult.
Unless…
Did sheenjoyhis teasing? Did it remind her of when they’d first met? How he’d tease her relentlessly and she’d return lighthearted insults just as fiercely? How their first kiss had been sparked after exchanging verbal blows only to wind up tangled in each other’s arms? In fact, it had happened in this very alcove…
His heart thudded at the memory, but he shoved it away. Taking a step back, he gave her another bow. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Larylis, why did you never—” Her words were cut off by another voice.
“Mareleau Harvallis.” Queen Helena’s tone rang heavy with reproach as she stormed down the corridor toward them, followed by four young women who he assumed were Mareleau’s lady’s maids. Three were around the princess’ age, while the fourth he knew was a few years younger. It was Lurel, Mareleau’s cousin. He’d met her several times when he was their uncle’s ward. She gave him a surprised half smile, which he wasn’t able to return under Queen Helena’s furious scrutiny. “Where have you been? You’re supposed to be at the feast.”
Mareleau lifted her chin. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Tonight is the last night your guests are here. Youwillattend.” The queen faced the four girls. “Sera, Ann, Lurel. Return to Mareleau’s room so you can prepare to make the princess…presentable again.”
