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“So,” he said in a voice as silky as my gown. “The queen is free.”
“Yes, indeed.” I rested an elbow against the banister beside him and swept my hair over my shoulder. His attention traced the movement. “I’m dying for adventure, and if I remember correctly, someone owns the fastest chariot in the realm.”
Being near him brought about that same pull all the kings had. The intense desire to stay by his side. His eyes shone like a laugh lived inside them, and he studied me as if he saw no one else, even as others bumped against us while passing.
I told myself it was no different than the lure to Bash and that the attraction was nothing more than the fae realm playing with my heart. But there was something different. With Thorn, I reminded myself to lean close. With Bash, I was constantly reminding myself not to lean in.
Thorn brightened. “You remember me.”
I feigned shock. “Of course I do. I couldn’t forget you.” I trailed my finger in slow circles on the wood near his arm, playing with the rose vines whittled into the railing, letting my finger get closer with each circle. Obvious, perhaps. But he ate it up.
Lamplight bounced off the silver buttons on his undone jacket, the same golden color as his hair. He stroked the hint of facial hair adorning his sharp chin. “I asked you once to ride with me in my chariot. Would you deny me a second time?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Bash climb the stairs, his eyes skirting in search. I chose the precise moment he found me to place my hand on Thorn’s. “Never. Take me out tomorrow?”
Thorn leaned into my touch, letting his jasmine scent wash over me. His chin measured at the top of my head. “I want you to know,” he began, “I know you’re using me.”
My hand faltered, but his clamped over it. His touch wasn’t rough, but soft and light enough that if I pushed, I had no doubt he’d let go. For that reason, I didn’t push. He grinned. “But that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You’ll tire of Bash eventually, and I’ll be here when you do.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
He withdrew from me, placed a hand on the balcony, and threw himself off. I watched long enough to be sure he stuck the landing before collecting myself in time for Bash to appear at my side.
“This is interesting.” His voice seemed strained. “You look lovely tonight, by the way.” The compliment was lessened by the grumble in his tone.
I widened my eyes as if seeing him for the first time. “Bash. It’s been a while.”
He eyed me. “Should I ask about Thorn first, or about how long you’ve known you were only trapped for three months?”
“I’d avoid either. You won’t like the answers.”
He frowned. “Remind me. Who are you in an alliance with?”
I set both elbows on the banister, letting the wind blow my hair back from my face. The navy of my dress matched his cloak. Again, the pull to him was hard to control. “I’m aligned with you.”
“And what were the terms of the alliance?”
I humored him. “I got two questions and my stars. And you got a girl who had to be around you so the lords think you’re pleasant company.”
“I’m delightful. And?”
I searched. “And charming? I’m not certain what else you want me to say.”
“And you can’t make further alliances,” he said, nodding toward where Thorn had thrown himself over.
I pulled my hair over my other shoulder and coiled my fingers through it. “What can I say? I like to be wooed.”
Bash’s frown deepened.
My hands dropped along with my act. “I’m playing him, Bash. That’s all it is.” I leaned against the balcony to search for Thorn among the busy crowds in the street. They mingled together in groups, never staying in one place for too long, speaking to everyone as if all were friends. This would be a sight worth painting—a night of friendship. But it was easy to play nice with faces hidden behind masks where you didn’t have to let your true emotions show.
I’d seen Bash almost as often as I’d seen Talen, and yet his face was nearly impossible to read. But I noted how his entire body relaxed with my words. “You can do as you like.” He said it as if he didn’t care what I did, but he’d stopped scowling.
“You still owe me that second question,” I said.
He situated himself beside me, facing the opposite direction to watch the small group gathered under the pavilion. Gaia sat there with a woman who must have been Brock’s treasured bride.
She was the sun. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, they all glowed with undeniable radiance. A white dress wrapped around her generous curves, and her smile dimpled with a laugh that turned heads. She carried herself lightly, perched on the end of the seat while conversing with Gaia, who was her opposite in every way. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark dress. Rigid and closed off as if the air were a personal shield around her. But as the wife laughed, she drew a smile out of Gaia.
