His eyes drift to my lips, and my skin heats as I remember the sensation of his kiss. “Something that belongs to us, much like I feel your lips do,” he whispers. His breath ghosts over my mouth, making it part as a sigh leaves my body.
“Lips can’t belong to anyone but who they’re pressed against,” I argue as my fingers tingle with the need to touch him.
“Let me fix that,” he mutters as his pupils expand. He closes the gap, and I feel the gentle pressure of his lips on mine. Little bombs of pleasure explode along my spine and low into my belly. His strong hands slide into my hair and his weight presses me firmly against the soft sofa. My mouth parts and his tongue dips in between my lips, making my breathing come faster. My hands slide around his back as our tongues dance together, drawing a groan from him that makes my lady parts do a happy dance. I’ve not experienced this kind of heat or need before. Hansel was a means to a maiden’s end—literally. This kiss I could drown in. It’s what they write sonnets about, it’s the thing that makes maidens weak in the knees and damsels feign distress.
“Are you quite finished sucking the Burgher’s face?” Hart drawls. Malachi ends our kiss with a satisfied smirk. My head is a little dizzy, but that’s because of the lack of oxygen. I think I’ll lie here for a tempo.
Someone clears their throat. “You’ve broken her,” Theo mutters, leaning over the sofa and staring down at me. When did he return? A flush creeps along my cheeks.
“I’m not broken,” I snap, sitting up. The world tilts and I flop back down. Okay, maybe I’m a little broken.
Theo raises an eyebrow at me, and I wave at him. “I’m tired. Give me a few tempos and I’ll be good for spying and thieving.”
Nash appears above me and I have all four Stirling brothers staring at me with differing levels of amusement. At least they are smiling. No, wait, that’s a shallow scowl on Hart’s face.
“It takes three times as many muscles to frown as to smile. You are going to prematurely age if you keep walking around like someone stole your last sausage,” I tell him.
“I can’t deal with her randomness right now,” Hart mutters, disappearing from view. “I’ll meet you in the stables.”
Malachi offers me his hand and pulls me up as the door thumps behind Hart. I’m still a little confused about what it is that I’m going to be doing, but I guess it passes the normally boring turns. If you think about it, going on a crazy adventure with the Stirling brothers to thwart a king and retrieve a mysterious item is a quest. Daphne Stone—quest extraordinaire. Now I can die happy with that on my gravestone.
“Nobody is dying this diurnal,” Nash says as he leads the way from their chambers. This time, I’m left to walk, and I’m proud of myself for putting one foot in front of the other without incident.
“Technically, many people will die this diurnal,” I tell him.
He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s a hard fact of life. You are born. You live whether that’s a blessed life in the Hallows, or a hard one in Far, Far Away, then you die. Statistically, one thousand, four hundred folks will die every diurnal.”
“Just when I think you can’t possibly get any more complicated, you spout random facts,” Theo says from beside me. He and Malachi are flanking me, like they’re my protectors. The protectors of Daphne, we should have badges made.
We travel down the four sets of stairs, the chilly air making me shiver as we venture farther below the palace. Animal and hay scents waft to me as Nash throws open a door and leads us into a stable. I freeze. Now here’s a fun fact: me and horses, we don’t get along. The carriage ride here doesn’t count, as we weren’t on the horses. Hart is already mounted on a beast of a chestnut horse.
I take a step backward. “I changed my mind. You guys go on the quest without me. I’ll sit right here and wait for you to return.”
Malachi chuckles. “The quest relies on you being present.”
I glance around at the many horses, all giving me an evil glare like they sense something about me. That’s the feeling I always get. Like they hold some deep knowledge that would terrify me. They can keep their scary secrets and I’ll keep my face.
“Who’s taking your face?” Nash asks as he puts his booted foot into a stirrup and hauls himself up. See, even that mammoth task seems like a stretch for my clumsy ass. He twists in the saddle and holds out his hand, a challenging look in his eyes, like he’s expecting me to run. He would be right, except that Theo and Malachi are blocking my exit.
I wave a hand in front of my face. “The horses, they want to eat my face off.”
Malachi chuckles as he rummages in a bag hooked on the wall and hands me a carrot. I blink at the orange vegetable. As far as snacks for the road go, this is a letdown.
“It’s not for you, it’s for your horse,” Malachi says, pushing me in front of the giant creature so we are eye to eye. The horse huffs, its lips rippling. I take a step back.
“See, it wants to eat my face,” I mumble, glancing at the ground. Maybe if I don’t look it in the eye, it will leave my face alone.
Malachi stands behind me and pushes me forward. He grips my hand and pries my fingers from the carrot. “Lay your palm flat,” he instructs.
“Why?” I ask as he guides my hand toward the horse’s mouth.
“So he doesn’t bite you.”
I try to jerk my hand away, but Malachi holds me steady.Ugh, time to conquer your fears, Daphne, and surrounded by the capable and strong Stirlings seems like an excellent time to attempt it.I squeeze my eyes closed and feel the hot enormous tongue of the horse as it takes the treat from my hand. Crunching echoes in the stables, and I peek one eye open. The crunching isn’t my bones, thank the Idols.
I clench my jaw and force my feet forward until my hand wraps around Nash’s. Malachi is behind me and grabs my hips to help spring me into the air. The next tempo I’m sitting four hundred hands in the sky and the ground seems farther away than what Rapunzel faced from her grand tower of doom.
