Page 62 of Scars and Crowns

A smile escapes before I can stop it. "It's okay." I shake my head gently. "It wasn't your fault." For a brief second he simply looks at me. Really looks. Almost like he's trying to decide whether he believes me. That tiny crease appears between his eyebrows. The same one that's been there since he was a boy whenever he worried he'd done something wrong.

My fingers almost lift on their own. I almost smooth it away. Instead I curl them quietly into the bedsheet. Probably safer. Just then Sara lets out a tiny sleepy sigh. She rubs both fists across her eyes dramatically before blinking up at us. For a moment she looks completely confused.

Still halfway inside a dream. Then her gaze shifts between the two of us. Once. Twice. A slow smile begins spreading across her face.

Oh no.

I know that smile. That is not the smile of an innocent child. That is the smile of someone who's just had a brilliant idea. Before either of us can react, she pops upright and throws one arm around my neck and the other around Yuvaan's, pulling both of us toward the middle with surprising determination. "Good morning kiss," she declares cheerfully.

Then she taps her own cheek. Waiting. I laugh. So does Yuvaan. Without hesitation we both lean forward. I kiss one cheek. He kisses the other. Sara beams as though the day has officially begun exactly the way she'd planned. Satisfied, she nods once. Then suddenly pauses. A thoughtful little frown appears. She's thinking. That is almost never good news. "Mumma?"

"Yes?"

She tilts her head. "You didn't kiss Mister."

I freeze. " . . . What?"

She blinks. "You kissed me.” She points at him, “He kissed me." She frowns, "But you didn't kiss Mister."

I stare at her. Surely she cannot be serious.

"Mumma?" Her voice grows more expectant. "Go."

"I . . . "

Wonderful. I've forgotten how words work. "That's . . . " I clear my throat. "That's different."

"Why?"

Because. Because . . . Actually . . . I have absolutely no answer suitable for a five-year-old. "It's just . . . " I wave one hand vaguely through the air. " . . . different."

She looks completely unconvinced. "Mumma."

"No."

I laugh nervously. "We don't—"

Before I can invent another excuse, movement beside me catches my attention. I barely have time to turn. Yuvaan leans over. Very gently. Very carefully. His lips brush against my cheek. Just a soft, fleeting touch. Gone almost before I register it. "Good morning, Daisy." His voice is barely above a whisper. Meant only for me. The words travel straight through me. Every single coherent thought leaves my head.

Completely.

Utterly.

I simply stare at him. Unable to remember what I was saying. Or thinking. Or breathing, for that matter.

Sara claps enthusiastically. "There!"

She points triumphantly. "Now Mumma's turn!" My heart begins pounding so loudly I'm convinced the entire palace can hear it. I don't have to do this. I could laugh. Tease her. Distract her. Tell her grown-ups don't always follow every game children invent.

I could.

I should.

Instead . . . I look at Yuvaan. He's watching me quietly. Not expecting anything. Not asking. Simply waiting. And somewhere deep inside me . . . some small part that's been carefully starving itself ever since I returned to Devgarh . . . Whispers . . . Just this once.

Before courage has time to disappear . . . I lean forward. Very quickly. My lips touch his cheek. Warm. Soft. Gone in an instant.

The second I pull away my entire face bursts into heat. Oh God. Why am I blushing like a sixteen-year-old? I refuse to look at him. Absolutely refuse.