The stranger steps forward. In a single graceful motion, he grips one of my flailing arms by the elbow. His other hand slips around my waist, right back in that warm spot where it had been when he shielded me from Prince Taigan, and I find myself once more pressed against that hard, muscular chest. An intimacy that really shouldn’t feel so familiar. His sharply exhaled breath heats my forehead, and his heartbeat thuds through his cuirass. His arms are like a steel cage, pinning me to him. My heart stutters, and I choke on the little scream in my throat.
I lift my gaze to his. His very close, very dark gaze. Staring intently. Burning away every rational thought. How would he react if I popped up on my toes and caught his lips with mine once more?
Did I really just think that?
Warmth flooding my veins, I push against his chest. Rather to my disappointment, he lets go immediately this time. I stagger back only for a terrible rip to rend the air. I look down in horror—the front laces of my bodice have caught on his cuirass buckle and torn open, exposing rather a lot more lace-trimmed chemise than is altogether decent.
“Oh gods!” I grasp hold of the laces, trying to wrench them free. There’s another terrible rip. Somehow, I’ve managed to snarl myself on his second buckle now. “Blight these fancy trimmings! I’m going to have words with Philippa, so help me. She’s trying to kill me with fashion, but I swear I won’t go down quietly!”
A large hand wraps around mine, stilling my frantic scramble. “Allow me, Princess.” With careful deliberation, he draws my hands away and begins unwinding the snarl I’ve made. His fingers are so long, so dexterous, not what one would expect from a guard. They look more like a musician’s fingers, nimble and quick, ready to coax sighs from his instrument. But I know aswell how strong his grasp can be. That image of him holding Taigan suspended is still vividly emblazoned across my memory.
Heat rushes to my belly. I’m suddenly painfully aware of just how close we’re standing to each other. Close enough that I can feel his breath against my all-too-exposed bosom. I try to step back only to yank a particularly obstinate loop tighter, further binding me in place. The stranger pauses, waiting for me to still again. Then without a word, he goes back to work. There’s something altogether unnerving about his silence.
A breathless giggle bursts from my lips. “I suppose you have some experience unfastening women’s bodices?”
He pauses again. His gaze flicks ever so briefly to meet mine. Then back to the task at hand.
“I mean, I’m not implying…That is, it’s a good thing if you do, right? I wouldn’t want to be caught like this with a novice. Tim the apprentice couldn’t have managed his own trouser laces, poor boy, much less assisted a woman in need.”
This time he doesn’t look at me. He draws a long, slow breath through his nostrils. Have I annoyed him with my rambling? Mistress Iliyani always said I never met a silence I couldn’t fill. Why can’t I for once get ahold of my tongue? I really should kiss him again. Just to occupy my mouth.
“Perhaps it would be simpler if you used your knife,” I say quickly, determined not to let that impulse carry me away with it.
He freezes. Both hands are so suddenly still, they might be carved from cold marble. But his eyes lift from the laces and fix intently on my face. “What knife?”
I snort. “Don’t play all innocent. I saw that blade in your hand. You’re lucky Taigan didn’t spot it earlier. He’d go straight to the king telling tales!”
“True. Men like that don’t know the meaning of shame.”
“That’s a swift judgment to pass on a fellow you’ve just met.”
“I’m a swift judge of character.”
Something about the way he says it sends a chill along the back of my neck. Or it might just be one of those damp, drafty breezes that sometimes waft through the air shafts of this cursed underground palace. I shiver and drop my gaze, only to find myself staring down my own prominently displayed décolletage. I should be dead right now; embarrassment ought, by rights, to have killed me.
“Just please keep that knife out of sight,” I mutter. “Tuck it into your boot or something. I mean, I can’t say I blame you for slipping one past the gate wards. I’d carry a knife if they’d let me! This place feels like it’s positively crawling with goblins and frights.”
“Not to mention the six combatants eager to gut each other for a chance to marry you.” With those words, he frees the first cord at last and lets it drop. Now he concentrates his attention on the second, more stubbornly entwined one. My heart beats so loud, I’m sure he can hear it, but he gives no indication. Nor does his gaze shift from his task. It seems to have absorbed him completely. I can’t even hear him breathe.
Finally, he pulls the second lace free, lets go, and turns so abruptly one would think I’d struck him. He pointedly puts his head back, staring up at the stalactites hanging from the high ceiling while I pull my bodice shut. Should I slip away now? He’s obviously giving me a chance to escape, standing like that. Maybe I should gather my skirts and make for the stairs, and the next time we happen to see each other we can both pretend I never gave him a prime view of everything Mother Vialth, Goddess of Fertility, chose to bless me with.
Securing the laces with an unstylish granny knot, I swallowhard and assume what I hope passes for a dignified demeanor. “I thank you, good sir. And…well, I hope you won’t read anything into what happened.”
“What happened?” he echoes in that toe-tingling rumble of his.
“The kiss. And the…bodice bursting.”
He’s looking at me again, a sideways glance from the corner of his eye. “And what would I read into it?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of wanton flirt. I just needed to get Prince Taigan off my tail. He seems to think because he’s the High King’s nephew that means he’s already won this cursed competition, but—”
“Prince Taigan won’t be winning anything.”
The force of his words shocks me. Would a house guard only just arrived that day have had opportunity to form an opinion on the champions who have come from across the six Kingdoms of Belanor to contend for the honor of my hand? Maybe he watched them spar earlier this morning. I have not yet personally met any of the champions aside from Prince Taigan and cannot help my curiosity.
“You think not?” I ask with rather more hope than I should probably let on. “I mean, everyone says he’s the greatest warrior in Belanor. The way they talk about him, one would assume he was a demigod sent to save us all! Who do you think might beat him? Prince Bryon of Ulyon? I’ve heard he’s quite formidable, but I’ve not seen him.”
“It won’t be Prince Bryon who carries the day.”
