She thought that hewantedher.
And for perhaps the first time ever, Ger did not know what to do with that. The oddest sensation stirred in his belly, somewhere between repulsion and—fuck. It made him sick to know he was capable of such a thing, but there it was, swirling in the pit of his stomach: desire.
The worst part was that he could see how she’d come to the conclusion; he could not breathe around her, he was visibly agitated at the turn of her attention, andshewas—
He hated himself for even noticing, but shewasundeniably beautiful. So much so that the Laune had fallen to her beauty. So much so that Eisalaan had built its national identity on epic tales of her lovely face. But as that same lovely face stared up at him, eyes half-lidded and sensuous lips curved in the slightest, triumphant smile, Ger could not help but think of another smile.
A smile gifted to him easily by the warmth of the stove. A smile that did not knit terror down his spine; that had made his chest loosen with warmth.
With more courage than he’d felt in a very long time, Ger cleared his throat—and took a step back.
Avette barely moved, yet he got the distinct impression that she’d reeled. Whatever swirled in the dark depths of her widened eyes was far too complex for Ger to decipher, but he knew in his gut that it was nothing good. The flare of it sent his fleeting courage up in flames.
“Your ladies,” he said quickly. His voice was hoarse; with breathlessness, in truth, but maybe, with a bit of delusion, it could sound like something hotter. He tried to lean into it, pitching his voice lower, rougher. “They’ll wonder what’s taking me.”
The queen lifted her chin high.
“Yes,” she said. She flicked a dismissive hand at him, all that softness in her tone turning firm. As thoughhewere the one who’d tried to seduceher. “You should not be here, Gard. Retreat at once.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Ger backed away from the privacy of the screen, nearly stumbling over his own feet to get back to his post by the suite of settees—and immediately halting mid-step at the sight before him.
Over on the small white couch where Mareda had been alone all evening, both of the queen’s ladies now sat together. Sat very close indeed. Imogen held Mareda’s face tenderly in both of her hands, whispering something in a low, urgent tone, her thumb pressed against the princess’s lower lip as though she could stop it from trembling. Ger did not know where to look or how he could possibly make himself scarce without returning to Avette. He took one, uncertain backward step toward the far wall—only to draw Mareda’s glassy gaze his way. Her eyes widened, atear spilling down her pale cheek, and at the small sound that squeaked out of her, Imogen sprang away at once.
The two women stared up at him; Mareda’s tear-stained face was horror-stricken, Imogen’s cold and defiant. Ger could only stare back at them. Clearly, they hadn’t wanted to be found like this, though he had no idea why. He remembered Adeline’s bitter disappointment over their long falling out, and how she’d hated playing their go-between. How she’d wondered what had happened between them, and if there was anythingshecould do to fix it.
Personally, he’d assumed it had something to do with Mareda being a snotty, self-important pain in the ass, though he’d obviously never said as such to Adeline. Not in so many words, anyway.
This makes a lot more sense, he thought.
Mareda broke their three-way stare first, turning her dewy eyes to Imogen and worrying at her lip with her teeth. Though she didn’t look around, Imogen reached out to lay a settling hand on Mareda’s knee as she held Ger’s eye.
“Not aword,” she warned.
Despite himself, Ger scowled. He knew he could be obtuse, but he wasn’t acompletebloody prick. “I wouldn’t—”
“Ladies,” the voice pealed from the other side of the room.
Mareda stiffened, and Imogen snatched her hand away, hopping to her feet at once.
“Coming, Your Majesty.”
But Imogen halted after a few quick strides, and Ger didn’t have to turn to know that Avette had appeared from behind thescreen. The room had gotten impossibly colder, and his joints hurt as he spun to face the queen. It would be taken for a gesture of respect and a credit to his extensive training. Honestly, he could not bear to have his back to her; to know he was in her presence without having eyes on her every move, even if he knew it made little difference.
“Oh,” Imogen breathed. She clasped her hands to her chest, brows softening. “You look—”
Avette held up a hand. “I don’t care for this one.”
The clipped, cold words dragged at the fine hairs at the base of his skull.Their queen was in a mood now, which did not bode well for any of them.My fault,said a thin voice in his head. Daughters, he was such a fucking coward. He should have just—
What?
Let her kiss him, and hope he didn’t gag against her perfect, plump lips? Taken her right there against the mirror, and prayed she didn’t freeze his cock off on a cruel whim?
It was the right choice,said a very familiar voice in his head.
But Ger’s stomach was somehow both taut and roiling. His ears rang, bracing for the shouting—a learned response, he knew. Avette didn’t need to shout, but his body didn’t know that. It only knew the physical familiarity of this feeling. Standing on the precipice of fear and preparing to be shoved, without warning, into freefall.
“I want another dress.”
