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He’s wearing a shirt that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. It’s fine silk embroidered with diamonds. At his wrists are cuff links that suit him, but the sleeves hide the dark veins that I find attractive. At least his neckline has been left open, allowing me to observe the steady beat of his pulse.

He licks his thumb, then traipses his fingers across the table before he runs his touch over the edge of the wineglass. He circles it until a low hum sounds.

It feels like the sound goes straight between my thighs.

“Stop that,” I hiss at him.

“Answer my question,” he insists as he continues the sensual movements.

I haven’t had one of my dreams again, but all I can think about is what he’d used those fingers for a month ago. It doesn’t matter if it hadn’t been real; it’s as if Arwan knows about my fantasy and is fully taking advantage of it.

I snatch the glass away. “You’re horny,” I snap.

Arwan laughs. The sound draws attention, but he doesn’t seem to care.

The host claps his hands and grins for the cameras. Whatever show Arwan and I are already giving, he approves.

That probably means one of us is going to die.

“Ladies!” exclaims the host. “You’re to observe your sponsor as they cook a meal for you. Pay attention to the secret ingredients! You must select a wine that pairs perfectly with your sponsor’s choice.”

I give Arwan a raised brow. “You’re going to cook?”

He tilts his head, sending dark tendrils of silky black hair over his bright eyes. “You’ll learn that I am an excellent cook.” His gaze flicks to my lips before he looks up again. “My specialty is breakfast in bed.”

“I’m sure it is,” I say as I cross my arms and lean back.

Sofia quietly watches as her sponsor charms her and selects an ingredient, then lets her inspect it. She takes the sprig and nibbles on the end of it before she gives it back.

I know Sofia can pick a wine that would complement the ingredients well, but there’s more to this challenge.

I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

Arwan begins preparing a fish and peels potatoes. There’s something humbling about watching a royal like Arwan cook, and I can’t help but feel mesmerized as he works.

My treacherous thoughts also drift to what kind of breakfast he might make. Especially after a long night of⁠—

“Herbs,” Arwan says, jutting into my thoughts as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Frowning, I take the strange sprig he offers me and sniff it.

The minty herb is pleasant but utterly foreign to me. When I taste it, there’s a bitterness followed by a sweet aftertaste.

One I’ve come across before.

My eyes widen when I remember my mother giving it to me when our entire family had been at risk for an attack by a rival bloodline. There was only one way to take out an entire generation without incurring the wrath of our king.

Death by poison.

I take a piece of bread and cover my mouth, pretending I’m smelling it. “The wine is poisoned?” I ask Arwan.

He doesn’t alter his expression, but he does select another ingredient. “Perhaps,” he says. I’m the only one covering my mouth, so he can’t say anything that the cameras might pick up on as cheating.

Damn it.

Placing the bread down, I select a different one and pretend to smell it as well. “Do we both drink the wine?”

He smiles as he sorts the meats onto a tray. “Yes, of course. And we’ll both eat this lovely meal I’m making, too. But you only get to select one item. I’ll be eating all three.”