Basil shuts the door behind them as he, Etta, and Amaris exit the room.
“Well?” I ask, looking around. Holly still stands against the wall, arms crossed. Ivan and Luca sit more comfortably on the couch, both leaning back with relaxed postures. Asmo’s legs are still crossed, one arm now slung across the back of the chair. “What do you think?”
“I think the argument to live here is sound,” Asmo says. “What doyouthink?”
I lean forward. “I agree.” I look to the couch, to Ivan and Luca.
Ivan is slowly nodding. “Me, too,” he says.
Luca grunts in what I assume is approval.
“Thank the Mother,” Holly says. “I need to get out of that house and into a real bed.”
“To be fair, I don’t know if they have real beds,” I point out.
She chuckles, but her smile fades as she says, “I trust Etta. If she’s been safe here and she trusts them, I feel comfortable with it.”
Alright then.
“Let’s do it.”
Asmo tosses the empty leather bag on the bed. I grab it and start shoving my meager belongings inside, the collection small enough to carry everything in both hands.
He opens the drawer that holds all his clothes. Only one drawer, and it’s not even full.
I can’t help but huff a meager half-laugh.
“What’s so funny, princess?” he asks, gathering his collection of black shirts and turning toward the bed.
“The fact that we told Etta we had to come back and get our belongings. We have almost nothing.”
He re-folds his shirts, making sure each one is as neat as it can be before setting them in a tidy pile. “Ah yes. How I miss my fashionable clothing items in the court that sold its soul to be on the throne,” he says. “If this bag is my only closet, then I am proud of the choices I have made.”
I look back down at the bag and shove my well-worn socks inside. I stop when I find the pair of socks I stole from Asmo’s drawer.
“Hey,” I say abruptly, “when you were in the dungeons, I looked through your clothes.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Snooping? Or just missing me?”
I ignore him and hold up the black pair of socks. “Why do you have a wine cork inside of this pair?”
His eyes narrow in on the pair in my hands. “I was wondering where those went.”
I toss them to him. He snatches them mid-air and unfolds them, reaching his hand inside and extracting the wine cork. He holds it in the air between us.
“Our first date,” he says. I blink. He smiles. “The very first one, when you stormed away from me. I complimented you and you accused me of finding you a plaything, then you left me at the table. Remember?”
I cross my arms. What a way to spin the truth. “You didn’t compliment me. You said you found me…intriguing.”
“Is that not a compliment?”
My answering sigh is impatient. “You treated me like I was trivial, like I was something you wanted to explore, not someone you wanted to marry.”
His smile disappears. “That was never my intention, Mae.”
My name on his lips sends a shiver up my spine. I’m alwaysprincess.What started as a rude nickname has turned into something endearing. But him saying my actual name always conveys a sense of gravity or vulnerability.
“To be clear, I did—I do—want to explore you. I want to explore every inch of you. Of your body, of your mind. You are intriguing to me, in every meaning of the word. Every female I’ve ever been with…They’ve always been so quick to please me, to agree with me, to be liked by me. You are the only one who’s ever challenged me, who’s been brave enough to push back, to not take my shit.”
