If he found out Landon was the reason I didn’t have the protection that statute offered, he’d have one more reason to hate him. And I didn’t want to give that to him, not right then when I might’ve gotten through to him a little bit.
When he pushed up onto his forearms to nip at my neck and peppered kisses along my jawline, the idea of killing the mood with talks of my virginity was simply inconceivable.
Chapter Six
Once our midday activities finally caught up to him, Max dozed off. I slipped from the bed and went in search of answers. Rereading scenes fromThe Princess Bridehadn’t soothed me the way it normally did. The parts about Buttercup and her impending marriage to Humperdinck brought up other nuptials.
My thoughts inevitably went to Kingston, his father, and the expectations on his shoulders.
An arranged marriage.
It was ridiculous. Preposterous. Antiquated.
Yeah, I said it. Downright medieval.
A tradition so long standing at Camelot Court that no one batted an eye. I couldn’t understand it. Why everyone here seemed content togo with the flowand accepted the outdated things their parents wanted for them.
I mean, I understood the value in having money, being that I was currently continuing The Quest after being attacked, rejected, lied to…drugged...
When I listed it out, it soundedreallybad.
But as alluring as the thought of one hundred thousand dollars sounded, I had the choice to leave at any time.
The more I learned, the less sure I became they had the same option. Pieces of things I’d been told since I got here played in my head on a loop. Hints about the Maidens, about the pressure the guys had on their shoulders, I couldn’t piece it all together.
Or understand why they didn’t just riot and leave.
And the person I needed to talk to about that was Kingston.
Landon hadn’t returned from his run, but I didn’t wait to find out if they’d had a chance to talk. I walked across the hall and knocked softly on Kingston’s door, rocking back and forth on my heels as I waited for him to answer.
When he didn’t open it, I tried the handle.
My bracelet, dangling on my wrist, swung against it. Clearly announcing my intention to break in, I cringed thinking Kingston might be on the other side of the door.
A soft click confirmed the door was unlocked.
I planned to look quickly and leave, but when I peeked inside but didn’t see him anywhere, I couldn’t help but survey Kingston’s space.
His room was as big as mine and Max’s put together, with an en suite bathroom off to the left where Landon’s room was on our side of the hall.
Navy blue curtains on the wall opposite the door, heavy enough to block the world out, had been pulled back to expose a large window. Letting light into the space, they brightened the dark furniture.
Overlooking the lake, a large, four-poster bed against the left wall had been haphazardly made. With wrinkled covers and bedsheets still visible up by his pillow, it appeared as if Kingston hadn’t had the time to do it properly, but kept up the ritual of making it each morning.
It surprised me.
I assumed someone else made his bed, but the longer I studied it, the more private his room felt.
That didn’t discourage my snooping. I just noticed it as I scanned the bookshelves and a drawing table before my gaze fell on an armchair. It faced the end of the bed, next to an easel, and my attention snagged on the canvases behind it.
A sheet thrown over them hid the paintings underneath.
That day in the cabin, ithadbeen paint on his arm.
I’d been so suspicious I hadn’t believed him, but the evidence sat right in front of me. Kingston was an artist.
And I wanted to find out what those canvases held. To see the pieces of himself that he hid from the world.
