I tilt my head. “Why do you think ofthatflower?”
He twirls the dagger in his hand, then shoves it into the holster strapped around his hips and walks toward me, stopping a few feet away. The sun has begun to set, highlighting one side of his face and leaving the other in the shadows. The silver band circles his iris, a perfect comparison of the light and the dark that resides within him.
“You remind me of them.” He smiles that half-smile again, and it threatens to undo me.
“But why?” I whisper.
He looks down as he fidgets with the dagger in the holster. “The first day I met you, you basically tore a piece of my heart and took it with you,” he says with a huff of laughter. “You left it bloody and torn, and I fought to get it back. But there was nothing I could do. You took it, whether you knew it or not, and you’ve had it ever since.” He says the words simply, as if they are facts. But his smile is shaky and he stares at the ground. “So, you remind me of bleeding-heart flowers.”
My heart constricts in my chest at the vulnerability in his words, at the truth he’s chosen to share with me. He cups my cheek. I close my eyes and nuzzle into it. “Does your heart still bleed?” I whisper.
He chuckles, but it comes out breathy. “My heart will always bleed for you, as yours will always bleed for mine.”
My eyelidsflutter open and I meet his gaze. “When will it stop?”
“I don’t think it will ever stop, princess. And that’s okay. I’ll bleed for an eternity if it means I’m bleeding for you.”
“Asmo,” I whisper, pulling him against me. That damn dimple is back on his face, and I brush my thumb over it.
“Mae,” he answers, the smile on his face deepening.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I ask cheekily.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Forever.”
My heart flips at the truth that rings in that one little word: forever. This broken High Prince, who fought the chemistry between us, who pulled away from me at every turn.
He leans forward, his lips parting. My blood heats, but I freeze.
What if he does it again? What if I choose him, and he leaves again?
Despite the way my heart seems to be beating out of my chest to be closer to him, I force walls around it. I take a step back. “No, I don’t…I can’t.” I clench my teeth, but that fire in my veins is barely lessening. But it doesn’t matter how much my body yearns for him, or how much I want to be with him. My heart—my crown—is too fragile to give away. I have to be certain. I will not make the same mistake again. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“Mae,” he says, his fingertips brushing along my forearm. “Why do you keep pushing this away?”
A different High Prince once warned me that sex is an easy way to manipulate and gain power. Holly once warned me that that exact form of manipulation is House Serpent’s specialty. I’ve already fallen for it once. How stupid do I need to be to do it again?
Even with my ability to detect lies, I feel like I’m floating in the ocean, pulled by two different currents—my heart and my mind. My heart pulls me toward Asmo every chance it can, while my mind comes racing in the opposite direction, warning me away from him. I’m caught in the middle, and I’m so close to drowning.
I turn on my heels and walk back toward the cabin.
The last thing I hear before I enter the cabin is thethump, thump, thump,of the daggers sinking into thetree.
We find Basil in the barn. He wastes no time on introductions. He ushers us into Squall’s End to begin preparing for the next rescue, hurriedly sharing the details as we walk.
Etta and Amaris are waiting for us. Etta’s chestnut hair is pulled into a knot on the top of her head, wisps framing her delicate face. Amaris’s thick, white braid is tossed over one shoulder. Her leather vest is outfitted with no less than a dozen daggers. She offers me a bow and Asmo a smirk.
Someone behind me gasps.
Etta’s lips curl into a smile, her eyes softening as they land on whoever is behind me. I step aside, not wanting to be caught in some sort of awkward embrace that isn’t meant for me. I bump into Asmo in my haste to get out of the way, his solid chest unmoving behind me.
I try to elbow him out of my way, but he catches my arm, holding it steady. “I may have compared you to a bleeding heart yesterday, but can you please stop with the violence?” His whisper sends chills dancing along my skin. He removes his hand, but his fingers drag along my skin as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Etta and Ivan pull apart, and he stares at her with unshed tears. “You’re alive,” he whispers.
Etta gives him an animated nod, her grin stretched wide and her cheeks rosy.
Holly watches them with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face, the expression pulling at the burn scars that grace the edge of her jawline. My own heart squeezes in my chest.
