“Me?”
He laughs. “I know your life is here so I understand if you can’t.”
There is nothing I want more than an adventure. It’s the reason I left Foxhead, the reason I accepted the Queen’s offer. Never did I think a new opportunity would present itself, let alone from none other than a prince.
“I can’t.” My response is quick and I see the way it hits him, crushing any hope he holds. “Iann, I can’t leave. At least not yet.”
“May I ask why?”
“I’m here to pay off my parents’ debt. They owe the Queen, and it was either this or getting married to Beetlerum.” The verbal outpour is unwanted and unstoppable. I didn’t even have a chance to sift through the words.
My body stiffens realizing Sky’s warning. The enchanted mixture.
“Married?” He looks disappointed.
“Yes. My village elders like to arrange marriages. Well, only if they get something out of the bargain. They tried to do it with me, but I told them no.” There is no filtering through my words, they come out as they please. “I’m sure you’re familiar with such alliances. You’re a prince after all. I’d bet all the families in Saden would want one of their children to marry someone of your status.”
He chuckles and offers a hand as we descend a few more stairs.
“I’m sure they would. My mother included. While my parents would love an alliance, they have always allowed a union to be our choice. Always for love. Not just for political gain.” He holds on to my hand and I don’t pull it away. The touch feels cozy and draws me closer to him as we talk. Slowly, and ever so subtly, I inch nearer until our arms brush each other. “If it were my mother’s choice though, I’d already be married. Maybe even have a child on the way. She’s eager for grandchildren.”
“Sounds like my mother. She was in hysterics when my sister had my niece.”
He stops us and holds a stare I don’t dare sever. His finger slides across my face, moving a curl that tries to get away.
“The offer will stand until my departure. You are more than welcome to join us.”
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. His eyes drift to my mouth and though I can’t be sure because my head already feels like it’s moving, my body drifts to him.
Pop.
The sound of a cork and a group of people laughing sends us looking in their direction. Another near-kiss completely ruined and I’m pissed.
“We should keep walking,” I suggest.
“Yes—” He nods and clears his throat. “We should do that.”
He offers me a smile so lovely I nearly pull him back and kiss him myself. Instead, we carry on walking for hours, late into the night—with me fighting every urge not to pull him into me and wrap myself in his being.
23
IANN
Only a fool is stupid enough to not have gone in for a kiss. Memories of her opulent, blush pink lips, which my eyes were fixed to all night, taunt me. Every blatant sign she placed right in front of me, only for me to ignore. I am a fool.
In the morning, I wake to the sound of metal scraping against clay. A painful noise to one’s ears.
Shooting up, I find Deean in the corner tearing away at a piece of bread and shoveling a fork full of meat in his mouth.
“There he is.” He’s annoyingly chipper this morning.
I respond to him through the palms of my hands, rubbing at tired eyes. “I had one glass of champagne, why do I feel like my body has been chained and pushed off a plank into icy water?”
“I suspect benten or maybe lorice.” He moves on to a bowl of fruit. “They drop concoctions into drinks down at the tavern. Makes for a better night but results in wicked mornings.” He tosses the fork to the side and wipes his face. “I see you had fun though.”
“And not as much fun as you. They add truth serums?” No wonder the taste of the champagne was off. Lorice is a common mixture made by apothecaries. One I have used to get people to confess the whereabouts of hidden treasures. But never have I been on the receiving end. The thought of Ariah dropping it in my glass crosses my mind, but she also appeared loose-lipped and answered all my questions without hesitation. It must have been the man who stopped her near the table. I’ve seen him around watching us.
I stumble out of bed and take hold of whatever he has in his cup. The heat warms my fingers. Thankfully it’s straight tea.
