“I love it,” I stressed once more, pressing the rock to my chest.
And I love you. So much.
In the blazing light, he soaked up my expression. But if the knight grasped my feelings, he didn’t say so. Instead, this man watched me hold the rock as if I held his heart.
Turning to hide my own blush, I carried the rock to the mantel. While propping it beside the whetstone, I filled the void. “Is he okay?”
Aire’s footfalls traveled across the room. “He is.”
Nicu had been gutted seeing Lyrik with that other bloke, but he recovered with the tenacity of his mother. By the tournament’s end, Nicu was ecstatic to see me and Aire kissing on that field. Nothing could have shaken his buoyant mood after that.
Lyrik stayed behind for the revels, which would last until dawn, while the rest of us trailed home. On the way, our worries over Nicu finally ebbed. The Royal Son possessed the backbone of an oak tree. He would be fine.
As for my dealings with Summer, Aire and I hadn’t told Nicu yet. But we would together.
As for my jousting prize, we’d gotten our answer too. The shield’s engraving matched the makeshift weapons in the armory tent. The defenses were stolen from that blacksmith, which meant the knights had indeed planned to ambush villages by outfitting themselves like the townsfolk.
Shortly before the castle blackout on Reaper’s Fest—back when Jeryn first allied with Poet and Briar—Rhys had botchedthe disguises of his Spring spies. He’d hired them to dress as knights, a mistake that fashionable Poet had called out during an impromptu meeting of the Seasons’ Royals.
I hadn’t been there to witness the scene. Instead, Briar recalled the events for me later, including when Poet stabbed Rhys in the hand, then Jeryn stabbed the king in the neck with a tranquilizer. At any rate, Summer had learned his lesson and ordered more authentic concealment from his traitorous cult.
My axe was enough, and I didn’t want to take advantage of the joust. But since I also couldn’t insult the blacksmith after the loss he’d suffered, I secretly gifted the shield to a young bloke of about twelve. My age, when the Masters had cornered me. If the knights found a way around us and attacked the village later, the boy would at least have a fighting chance.
Aire and I would go over the next move tomorrow.
Later. After.
More footsteps. His deliberate silence brushed a hot path up my spine.
Turning from the mantle, my eyes widened. Wax tapers glimmered from every corner, the wicks trembling with specks of orange that swam across the walls.
He towered in the center. He’d done this in moments.
I fumbled for a sly response. “I didn’t know I had that many candles.”
Fastening me to the floor with his eyes, Aire sauntered forward. “You’re nervous.”
As the tail of his overcoat brushed the planks, my skin pebbled. To cover it up, I pretended to scoff. “Ridiculous. What makes you say that?”
The question ended on a wispy exhalation as he paused inches from me, the trim of his lapels caressing my robe, the delicate friction toughening my nipples. “We’ve consummated before,” Aire murmured, his respirations stroking my lips.
Consummated. Fucked. Very different terms, yet I’d always fancied that contrast in us.
I hedged. “Not like this. I’ve been with plenty of chaps, but…”
Understanding darkened his face. “Never by candlelight.”
Never. No candles, flames, or presents tied with maple leaves.
When I shook my head, a gruff noise cut from his lungs. “Did they please you?”
“Usually,” I answered. “As someone who’s picky about her options, I made sure.”
“But they did not woo you.” Studying me further, he coaxed, “By choice, you enjoyed yourself without seeking deeper intimacy. It was casual sex.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“No, there is not.” His fingers stole out to cup my cheek. “So long as it’s on your terms.”
