“Is he always like that?” Sasha whispered, her mouthclose enough to my ear that her breath sent shivers down my neck.
“Worse, actually. That was restrained.”
We continued through the castle, making our way through passages I’d learned as a boy. Each step brought us closer to the kitchen, my awareness of Sasha sharpening along with it.
I told myself to focus. We had a mission. A purpose. A mystery to solve that was affecting my entire court.
We rounded a corner near the east parlor and nearly ran straight into another obstacle.
“My darling, the moonlight through these windows is like a silver pathway to your heart,” Lord Primrose’s voice carried out into the hall from the parlor.
“Oh, my love, your words are like dewdrops on the petals of my soul,” Lady Daphnie said.
We ducked into another alcove, this one even smaller than the last. Sasha pressed her back against my chest, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady us both as we squeezed into the shadows.
This was torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie stood in the middle of the parlor, making flowery declarations of their love. I would’ve found it hilarious if I wasn’t trying not to notice how perfectly Sasha fit against me.
“Should we love each other less dramatically?” Lady Daphnie asked, her fan fluttering. “Would that make our passion more manageable?”
“Never.” Lord Primrose pressed his hand to his chest. “To diminish our love would be like asking the ocean to send fewer waves toward the shore, or the stars to shine with less brilliance.”
Sasha trembled against me, fighting laughteragain. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and the movement pressed her more firmly against my chest. Every small shift sent sparks through me.
I was going to combust before we even reached the kitchen.
Finally, the dramatic couple swept out of the parlor and strode down another corridor, still declaring their eternal devotion. I loosened my grip on Sasha and stepped back, putting distance between us before I did something stupid like nuzzle her neck.
“They’re exhausting,” she said, turning to face me in the shadows.
“They’re in love.”
Her gaze held mine for a long moment before she cleared her throat and tilted her head toward the kitchen corridor. “We should keep moving.”
Exactly. Important surveillance definitely didn’t involve me thinking about all the ways I wanted to touch her.
We reached the kitchen entrance and stepped into the big space made up of polished surfaces and copper pots hanging from the ceiling over the stoves. The rush would begin in a few hours.
The spice room door stood ajar on the far side. We crossed the kitchen, our footsteps silent on the stone floor, and I pushed the door open wide enough for us to slip through.
The space was even smaller than I remembered.
Shelves lined every wall, packed with jars of dried herbs, hanging bundles of plants, and containers of spices. The scent of rosemary and thyme, cinnamon and clove, and dozens of fragrances layered together into something both overwhelming and comforting.
The only part that felt odd was the subtle scent of dirt,but a glance around showed me the room was as clean as the rest of the kitchen.
As we knew, there was barely room for one person, let alone two.
“This is cozy,” Sasha said, her voice dry as she surveyed the cramped quarters.
“I may have underestimated the spatial constraints.”
“No.”
We tried to position ourselves to maintain sight lines to both the main kitchen and the preparation areas. This meant pressing together, Sasha’s back against my chest again, my arms coming around her to brace against the shelves on either side.
This was a terrible idea. A brilliant, necessary, yet absolutely terrible idea.
