He lifted her up with one arm, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth.
She buried her hands into his hair, twisting, and he made a low sound at the back of his throat. He turned and walked a few paces until her back was against the wall, his body pressed into hers. His hands slipped under her chemise, onto her bare skin, and she gasped, feeling lightheaded.
He kissed her neck, teeth scraping against her skin, and she ached for him to be closer.
She said his name, and a jolt ran through his body. He pulled away from her and she opened her eyes. His were dark and wide.
He looked stricken, his grip on her loosening, and she slid down, her legs unsteady. The moment she was on her feet, he stepped back until there was a yard of space between them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not looking at her. His voice was hoarse. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She was about to say that he had nothing to be sorry for when he ran, leaving her alone.
Sonya pressed her fingers to her swollen lips, her heart still beating fast and hard. She caught her breath, or tried to.
She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand anything.
27
The kiss with Azam was catastrophic and all she thought about. Even as she danced with other men, walked with them, let them hold her hand, all she felt was the phantom touch of Azam’s body pressing hers against the wall, his hands under her chemise.
She wanted to talk to him, but he was determined to avoid her, not looking at her at all. Every time she saw him, he looked like he was in pain, and she hated it. She hated all of this.
But he had a point: she had never been fully honest with him, either.
A few days after the kiss, there was a picnic in the gardens. It was a hot day in early June, the sun blazing; the picnic went the way all the other events of the tourney had gone.
Sonya sat in the shade eating a small bowl of chilled ras malai,a dish made of cottage cheese balls in sweetened milk. She listened as the son of the duke told a story about his sister. It was terribly hot, and after finishing off the sweet dish, Sonya still wasn’t refreshed. She wanted a cold glass of water, and she stood to get it herself, needing a moment of quiet.
But when she stood, blood rushed to her head, and she stumbled, her foot catching on the hem of her dress. She fell forward and heard a tear of fabric.
‘Princess!’ All three suitors shot to their feet, until they caught sight of the torn dress, a glimpse of her stocking-clad leg underneath. Gentlemen that they were, they all turned around, giving her privacy. Sonya swore in her head.
Elspeth offered Sonya her hand, helping her stand. ‘Are you hurt?’ Elspeth asked.
‘You mean other than my pride?’ Sonya asked, brushing her hands down her dress. Her brothers crowded around her, inspecting for damage, but the dress had faced the worst of it. Elspeth held the fabric together so Sonya’s leg wasn’t exposed.
‘This was what I meant by wardrobe malfunctions,’ Mustafa said, trying not to laugh. She gave him a glare. Shahmir and Mustafa were also trying not to laugh. She scowled.
‘Well, this is why we keep the tailor on hand,’ Shahmir said.
Oh no. Sonya’s stomach curdled with dread. Before she could stop Shahmir, he had called Azam over.
‘Her dress has torn,’ Shahmir explained.
Azam nodded, not looking at any of them.
Another maid grabbed an extra picnic blanket and used it to shield Sonya, while Elspeth still held the fabric of her dress closed. They made their way to a different part of the gardens, where there was nobody else.
Sonya and Azam entered, while Elspeth and the maid held thepicnic blanket up at the entrance of the garden’s section, blocking it off. They faced the opposite direction, giving Sonya privacy.
Sonya looked at Azam. He pulled a needle and thread from his pocket, then went on his knees in front of her. She wanted to hold his face in her hands, brush her thumbs over his cheekbones. But his head was bowed. The sun beat down on her back, unbearable.
‘If I may?’ he asked, voice quiet and distant. As if he had not had his tongue in her mouth a few days ago!
‘You may,’ she replied. His hands disappeared under her dress, and the breath lodged in her throat.
He gathered the fabric of her dress, lifting it up over her leg. He would mend it from the inside.
