Page 34 of The Poison Princess and the Lord of Misrule

“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” I say to Ren. “If that were the case, my station aside, I have nothing I feel the need to hide from anyone. However, I simply have never met someone who inspired me to indulge.”

Something behind his gaze heats, and I feel the charged touch of it as his gaze searches my face. “I have never met anyone like you, Princess.”

“Not here in Kravenholt,” I say with a teasing smile.

“Not anywhere,” he amends, voice a low rasp.

A flush of heat warms my chest. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He nods sincerely. “You absolutely should. I’m fascinated. Mesmerized. Bewitched.”

The air charges between us, and I’ve lost the seconds, the minutes it’s been since I disappeared from the gallery. I don’t want to go back—I want to stay here, in this moment, and find a way to indulge with Ren—but I feel the weight of time.

“But now that you’re betrothed,” he says, cutting into my frantic thoughts, “there’s no chance of it.”

The question, again, is implied. I glance away, to the wall where a painting of the king hangs in all its threatening glory. His arctic eyes following, watching.

“That’s how it works,” I say, and I see the fall of his features he tries to hide with a quick shift.

“Of course,” he says, then rests adaring hand to my cheek, stilling my breath. “But that would only be honored by an honorable man, no?”

I swallow, leaning into his touch against my own will. “And as a jester, you are no such honorable man.”

He moves a breath closer. “I confess, I have never wanted to be more dishonorable in my life, Princess.”

His thumb traces the line of my cheekbone, and my eyes flutter shut. I lean into his touch, just enough that his palm cups my jaw. AndMorrishanhelp me, I’m willing him to be dishonorable—to steal a kiss right this very instant…stripping me of the burden to ask for it.

My hands rise without permission and rest against his chest. I feel his heart, hammering against my palm.

The seconds pass.

I open my eyes, finding anguish pitted deep in his.

The scar that crosses his eye catches the faint light, silver-white against the shadow of his brow. His mouth parts. His pupil swallows the color of his eye almost completely.

His thumb stills against my cheek.

Ren exhales, his forehead dropping until it rests against mine. The contact is so chaste and so devastating that my eyes sting.

Then he’s gone, leaving my skin cold where it was warm from his touch only moments ago.

“We should return before we’re missed,” I say, smoothing my skirt that has no wrinkles.

Ren nods, no words needed. He offers me his hand to rise, but then says, “You had a question to ask of me.”

I take his hand, allowing him to pull me up beside him. Then I shake my head. “Another time,” I say. “It can wait.”

We stand here a moment longer, each of us waiting for the other to break the rules, to surrender.

I walk ahead. “I’m sure Isolde is looking for me by now.”

“Sera, wait—” He picks up the book of poetry from the chaise, offering it to me with a mock-formal bow that breaks the moment enough to be bearable.

“Your book, Princess. So you have a reason for your absence.”

I take it with a small smile. “Maybe I’ll have another reason to disappear here soon,” I say, letting my intentions linger in the charged air.

The faintest ray of hope lights his features. “As I’ve said, little cunning thing.”