I turn to face him, a lick of anger rolling up my spine. “You’re right. I must have somehow forgotten my dad is dead.”Murdered at the hands of your brother, actually.
His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth, then shuts it. Probably a smart move.
I take a deep breath and sink onto the bed. Underneath the duvet are freshly laundered sheets. I lay down, my back turned to Asmo, and stare at the scuffed wall.
The sheets rustle as the bed shifts. “Mae,” he says, “I didn’t…I’m sorry for how today turned out. With Torben.”
I don’t want to think about how today turned out. I don’t want to think about the predicament that we’re in and how the well of hope I felt this morning was drained by the afternoon. I don’t want to think about anything.
“What are you even still doing here?” I ask, unwilling to face him as I voice the question that has plagued me for weeks. Since I first woke up to find him leaning over me, eyes full of pain. “Why aren’t you with your family? Why aren’t you with your court?” Tears well, and I resistthe urge to swipe them away. But it’s not sadness. It’s anger, frustration, hurt that he chose his court over me when I chose him.
My relationship with Asmo isn’t the only thing that has me feeling emotional. It’s a messy conglomeration of the entire month, of losing him, Elle, my father, my aunt, a sister I never knew, of nearly losing Cally. I have no idea how to make this okay, how to save myself, let alone an entire kingdom from the betrayal of the people I once trusted.
Okay, and maybe the alcohol isn’t helping either.
I expect Asmo to respond with equal amounts of anger. I expect him to play the game back, the one that we’ve been so good at playing since we first met. The one where we circle each other, firing insults and hurling cruelties.
What I don’t expect is his hand on the dip of my waist, the feeling of him sliding me back toward him, only inches apart. Heat radiates from him. It’s not just the chill in the air that’s making my body yearn to be pressed against his warmth. It’s a need that I’ve tried to suppress for months now.
We lay there, my questions hanging in the air, his hand cupping my waist. My heart twisting in my chest.
When he finally responds, his voice is a whisper. “I left everything behind for you. I should’ve made the decision sooner, but you have to understand my entire life has been my court. I grew up thinking I’d be placed in a loveless marriage to someone my parents chose. I never expected…you. Every interaction with you left me wanting more. And that was terrifying for me. That’s not how my life was supposed to go. But what terrified me even more was being without you.”
I freeze. This is not the game we play. No, this breaks all our unspoken rules. The rules that say we walk around our feelings, that we avoid mentioning the lingering looks, the too-long touches, the way our eyes connect and can never seem to pull away. We’re supposed to tiptoe around anything that resembles a conversation about what we’ve done to each other and what the world has done to us—how it’s pushed us together by sheer force and how we continue to push back.
He takes a deep breath, his thumb now stroking the slope of my waist. “The day you asked me to marry you, I panicked. I wasn’t ready to make a decision. I still hadn’t given up the idea of leaving my court, ofthrowing my future away in favor of a different one. When you told me you picked Marik, I was devastated, but I was also…happy. At least I’d get to keep seeing you. How fucked up is that?” He snorts.
I don’t say a word. The lump in my throat feels too thick and my vision blurs with the hot burn of unshed tears.
“But then, my idiotic brother, in the most fucked up way, gave me another chance to be with you. When I stepped toward my family on that day, it was like my heart faltered in my chest. It was like moving through quicksand. Everything felt miserably wrong. Being next to you feels right. It’s always felt right. Even if you were the villain in this story, I’d still choose to be next to you.”
Tears silently stream down my face in warm, salty rivulets.
“When Cora…” He inhales shakily, and his hand grips my waist tighter. “I thought you were dead. It felt like my soul flickered when that bolt hit you. And in my own selfish way, when Torben said he wouldn’t help us today, all I felt was relief. I saw a path that meant we didn’t have to fight. That meant I could just take you and hide you away, keep you protected from everyone and everything.” He pauses, a huff of warm laughter stirring loose strands of hair against my neck and sending shivers down my spine. “And then you stood up to him. Like you stand up to me, every day. Like you stood up to Marik and Cora. And I realized you’re not meant to hide. You’re meant to fight, to lead, to protect. I want to be beside you for all of it, if you’ll have me.”
I can’t say anything. I physically don’t think I’m capable of forming a sentence right now without my voice cracking. My silence is a dam holding back floodwaters. All this time, I’ve been terrified to lean into my feelings. I don’t know how I can trust anything I feel, especially when what I feel for Asmo is like my wildfire—burning and uncontrollable. The idea of giving myself to him feels reckless, selfish, and idiotic. But it also feels right.
Every word he speaks is the truth. Every single word. And every choice he’s made has been for me. He’s done nothing to indicate he was ever a part of Marik’s plan.
“If you don’t want me, I get it. I’ve been an insufferable asshole to you at every turn. When I said I wasn’t good for you, I meant it. There are plenty of other perfectly charming males out there who will treatyou the way you deserve, but I think you feel this, too, Mae. I think there’s more to us than a normal relationship. I think…” He trails off as I turn to face him.
I don’t bother wiping the tears from my face.
His face is inches from mine. His perfect, angelic, beautiful face. I’ve thought of it so many times, I’ve yearned for him, I’ve dreamed of him, I’ve pictured him as I’ve kissed the other High Princes. He’s right. There’s something between us that’s not normal. It feels…otherworldly, like what’s between us was crafted from magic itself.
His hand leaves my waist to brush the tears from my cheeks. “I made you cry again.”
“What’s new?” I ask, lifting one corner of my mouth.
His gaze darts to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he brushes away another tear.
I’ve spent so much time trying to keep myself away, and it feels like I’m hitting my breaking point. It feels like I’ve been underwater for too long, like my lungs are about to burst if I don’t open my mouth andbreathe.
So, I do. I breathe.
I close the distance between us, crashing my lips against his. This time, there are no butterflies that take flight in my stomach. This feels like dragons soaring through my blood, breathing hot flames into every vein, setting every part of me on fire.
His hand grips the back of my head, fingers wrapping in my hair. I scoot closer to him and press every inch of my body against every inch of his. His mouth over mine stifles the groan when I feel him against me. When I feel how ready he is for me.
