Page 32 of The Poison Princess and the Lord of Misrule

I recall he can’t read, or at least read well, and I hope bringing him here doesn’t upset him. I try to think of something to say to ease the furrow carving between his brow. “I actually don’t do much reading in here,” I say as I move toward the chaise. “I just come here when I want to be alone, to catch my breath.”

He moves to stand opposite me, looking unflinchingly at me rather than the books. “You have to catch your breath often.”

It’s a question, one that makes the flush return to my face. Which is starting to irritate me. As a daughter of the Thorn Court, I’ve never once felt so rattled. Our women areraised to be bold, empowered by our bodies and sex, not overawed or hesitant in the presence of a male.

But Renick Ashbourne seems to have this ability to make me forget myself. The image I have of him in the shadows surfaces once again, his eyes watching me—the same way he’s watched me, has looked at me, since he first strode into the throne room.

When I fail to answer, he smirks and runs a hand through his messy hair. He’s forgotten his jester hat, and I’m glad for it. I love to watch his hair flop into disarray every time he tries to tame it.

“I thank you, Princess,” he says, leaning back on a shelf and crossing his arms. “It’s been a while since I’ve been somewhere quiet.”

I nod. “Stay as long as you want, then.” I turn to go.

“Wait—” The sharpness of his voice stops me. “You won’t stay.”

Another question. This one dangerous in its own right.

I think of Isolde, of the fitting, of the chamberlain’s seating chart and the crimson flowers. Aldric’s eyes heating on my face, his hand touching me, and how powerless I felt in that moment, and I say, “Maybe for a little while.”

A faint, satisfied smile tips his mouth. “I’ll take what I can get.”

I swallow hard at that, forcing my gaze to the high wall of books. “There is one book I’ve been eyeing,” I say, crossing to the book ladder braced against the bookcase. “It’s a volume of poetry, from Threnmere. I was surprised to find it here actually.” I roll the ladder over and brace my slippered foot on the lower rung, feeling unsteady with Ren’s eyes on me.

Of course, the book sits on the highest shelf.

Goddess incarnate, I nearly groan as I lift my skirts to climb.

Ren rushes to the ladder. “Let me?—”

“Nonsense,” I scold. “I’m perfectly capable.”

He holds up a hand. “I’d never suggest otherwise, Your Highness.”

I look up at the four rungs, then start to climb. The dust dances around me. I find the book by feel, my fingertips reaching, searching the spines.

“So no one ever comes here,” Ren says, distracting me.

I keep my balance, tucking the book beneath my arm. “Not that I’ve seen.” I start to descend and, on the way down, my heel catches the hem of my gown.

The ladder wobbles.

My body rocks on the ladder, my hand gripping the rung. The book slips, and I hear Ren mutter an oath as he’s hit with it. A laugh springs free, and that’s what does it. My slipper actually slips, and I’m falling before I can mutter my own.

“Shit, Sera?—”

My belly tumbles right along with me, the panic seizing my breath. Ren’s arms band around me. One braces the small of my back, the other wraps my shoulders, allowing me to find my footing on the lower rung.

He’s staring down into my eyes when I open them. I hold the intensity of his gaze, so close that I don’t notice the scar, only the silver fleck in his dark iris that I never noticed before.

He swallows, his throat working, as his gaze flickers over my features, like he’s undecided where to look. I can feel the warmth of him through the gown, the strain of his taut muscles, his breath ghosting across my lips.

And I forget how to breathe.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs. “Your skirt…there’s a nail.” His hand leaves my back, and I feel a tug as he frees the trapped fabric. “There.”

But instead of releasing me, his hand returns to my lower back. Mine curls around his bicep. And I watch as he licks his lips, making it so that I can’t move, held captive by the intensity of his gaze now fixed on my mouth.

His fingers spread across the curve of my waist, a restraint there, testing.