I blinked, surprised. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Mal’s expression softened. “He said he is not ready to face a multitude of people again. Not after last time.”
The last banquet. Killian’s powers exploding in public when he’d gotten overwhelmed. The nobles calling him bastard, questioning his parentage because of his magical abilities. The looks and pointed comments that had followed him for daysafterward. He was only four years old. That kind of cruelty would scar anyone, let alone a child.
“Did he personally request Earth?” I asked, my throat tight. “Or did someone suggest it?”
“He requested it himself,” Mal confirmed. “Said he misses Auntie Krystin’s cookies and wants to help her bake. My mother thinks it is a good idea. Torin will take him through the portal and stay with them.”
“We should let him go,” I said immediately. If Killian didn’t feel ready, we wouldn’t force him. He’d been through enough. “He’ll come back when he’s ready.”
“Agreed,” Mal said, clearly relieved I wasn’t going to argue.
Then his hand found the small of my back, a casual touch that was anything but casual. His fingers pressed in slightly, possessive and promising.
“So we will have the evening to ourselves,” he said, dropping to a lower register.
“At a banquet,” I pointed out, trying and failing to keep steady. “With hundreds of people watching our every move.”
His eyes darkened with promise, that look that meant he was thinking about things that absolutely should not be thought about in the throne room. “After the banquet?” he asked.
I smiled, feeling my own anticipation building. “After the banquet, we can do whatever we want.”
“I am already planning,” he said, his thumb stroking small circles on my back that were absolutely deliberate.
“Is that so?” I asked, the words coming out breathier than I intended. Damn him.
“Several plans,” he confirmed, his eyes locked on mine. “Very detailed plans.”
“Care to share?” I asked, stepping slightly closer despite knowing we were still technically in public view.
“I would rather show you,” he said roughly.
I was already thinking about later, about getting him alone in our chambers, about all those detailed plans he’d mentioned. About exactly how long I’d have to endure small talk and diplomatic pleasantries before I could drag him away.
Aurion walked past us, loud enough to be heard despite his attempt to sound casual. “You are both being inappropriate again. Please control yourselves. There are nobles present.”
Mal didn’t even turn his head, just called after his brother, “Mind your business.”
“Your arousal is everyone’s business when you are broadcasting it to the entire room!” Aurion shot back. “We have noses. We can smell it. Jeez. Have some dignity.”
I buried my face in Mal’s chest, laughing despite my embarrassment. His chest rumbled with his own laughter.
“Your brother is insufferable,” I said into his shirt.
“Completely,” Mal agreed cheerfully. “But he is not wrong.”
“Not helping,” I muttered.
He tilted my chin up, still grinning. “Tonight’s banquet is either going to be wonderfully boring or spectacularly chaotic. I vote for boring,” he said.
“Based on our track record?” I said skeptically. “I’m betting on chaos.”
“Have faith,” he said.
“I have faith,” I replied. “Faith that something will inevitably go wrong because that is how these things work for us.”
He kissed my forehead, gentle and sweet despite the heat still simmering between us. “Then we will handle it. Together.”
