Nothing about our kiss had been academic or political or dutiful. It had been real. Dangerously, wonderfully real.
He straightened his jacket, a gesture that revealed more about his state of mind than words could have. “I should go.”
“I understand.” I smoothed my own rumpled dress. “Duty calls.”
“Always.” But he didn’t move toward the door.
I busied myself righting the fallen books, acutely aware of his gaze following my movements. “You should know there might be residual effects from the butterflies.”
“I’ll manage.”
“And if anyone asks about the magical anomalies?—”
“I’ll tell them my witch queen is experimenting with new spells.” His voice softened in a way that made my heart stumble. “Successful experiments, from what I’ve seen.”
Before I could respond, he turned toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back over his shoulder. “Cyrene?”
“Yes?”
“I find I rather like my fortress of doom and gloom when it’s filled with your magic.”
Then he was gone, leaving me surrounded by butterflies and the lingering taste of his kiss on my lips.
I touched my fingers to my mouth, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.
“Well,” I said. “That wasn’t in the treaty.”
A teacup on the floor began humming a love song.
I couldn’t even find it in me to be annoyed.
I sank down into the window seat, my legs too wobbly to hold me upright any longer.
What was happening to me? This wasn’t part of the arrangement. This wasn’t political strategy or treaty maintenance. This was me, falling for Kieran allover again. Not his crown or his power or his perfectly sculpted face, though none of those things hurt.
No, I was falling for the man who stocked a witch’s workshop with rare supplies before I arrived. Who found the exact shade of green that would please me. Who looked at singing teacups and magical butterflies with amusement rather than disdain. The man whose magic complemented mine so perfectly it was as if we’d been designed as matching pieces of the same whole.
My grandmother hadn’t warned me that forging peace between witches and vampires might mean losing my heart in the process.
Quandary swooped in through the window, landing beside me with an inquisitive chirp. He clutched a butterfly in his mouth that he gently released to my hand.
I started gathering them up, putting them in a jar. They could remain there until their attraction spell had waned and then I’d set them free. They’d enjoy the gardens, the maze.
You look…Quandary tilted his tiny head and ruffled his sapphire wings.Happy.
“I’m in trouble,” I whispered, pressing my fingers to my still-tingling lips.
The butterflies settled around me in a glittering purple cloud, as if to sayyes, you absolutely are.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KIERAN
Two days had passed since Cyrene and I tamed her magic. Days since my advisors repeated their ultimatum. Days of whispered theories, of servants peeking into corridors hoping to catch a glimpse of their “bewitched king.” Two nights of pretending I didn’t notice how much I enjoyed every rumor.
My court had always preferred darkness, from jewel tones to shadows, to the safety of the night. Tonight, light spilled through the room instead. This was Cyrene’s doing. Glowing crystals drifted near the ceiling, bumping into the chandeliers like fireflies.
Hundreds of candles floated above the polished marble, their flames mirrored in the black glass floor. The scent of bloodwine and enchanted lilies filled theair. Musicians tuned their instruments near the dais, and every noble in the realm was determined to be seen.
