He gave a tight laugh. “Because I’ve just realized that your villageis where I feel the most free. The rest of the time I am here, and mostly trapped in this cage.” He gestured his arms at the over-the-top bedchamber.
“It’s certainly a gilded one, though.”
“It is, at that.”
I picked up a handful of pistachios from a bowl nearby and popped them into my mouth, unsure how to respond. What was our friendship now that we’d kissed, confessed our feelings, held each other in the darkness? If he was free with me, what did I feel when I was with him?
Did I feel the same as when I sparred with anyone else in the training field?
No.
I knew that for certain. With him, when we danced on the open sand, our swords flashing in the sun, it was like lightning across an empty desert. When our blades met, it was a sigh of relief.
He felt like my match.
I choked on a pistachio at the realization, hacking a cough into the pillow of the sofa. Maz came around in alarm and began pounding me on the back. “Dani? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I choked out, waving him away. I sat up when he offered me some cold hibiscus tea and drank it greedily.
You’ve never been a coward, Dania.
But now, I felt like I was. He’d given me something real, and I’d just eaten some nuts in response.
I lifted my head, my breath catching at how close he suddenly seemed. He leaned over me, his eyes shadowed. Heat crept up my neck, but I didn’t tear my gaze away from his.
You’ve never been a coward.
“I feel the same, by the way,” I blurted out, my words a croak in my throat.
“What? You feel like you are in a gilded cage too?” He laughed lightly, not meeting my eyes, and I recognized what he was doing.
Giving me an out.
We hadn’t talked about our feelings since that night a few weeks ago that almost felt like a dream now. But he’d been by my side for years, and when he went away, I yearned for him. When I heard the sound of his stallion’s hoofbeats against our village path my heart rejoiced.
I wasn’t going to let his be the only confession today.
“With you I feel like I can be myself too,” I said quietly. “I feel free.”
His soft intake of breath echoed in the silence between us.
And then, because I wanted to prove that voice in my head wrong, because I wanted to overcome that niggling piece of fear that told me to doubt, told me to stop, told me to do anything but what I was about to do, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his for the second time.
There was a beat of time in between my lips meeting his and his meeting mine back, and in that space, all the fear I held in my heart consumed me. What if he regretted what we did? What if, in the cold light of day, he wasn’t interested anymore?
But then he kissed me back.
A hawk took flight in my chest, the power of its wings beating out of my skin and willing my whole body to soar.
He cupped my chin with his hands, the roughened calluses against my face making me lean in closer, devour him more ravenously, until we consumed each other.
I lay back on the sofa and he tumbled down with me, propping himself up on his elbows.
I unhooked the gold buttons lining his sherwani and peeled the coat from his broad shoulders. He then shrugged his tunic off.
I’d seen him shirtless before, especially after training when he washed himself off at the water basin beside the field. I’d always looked away, not wanting to be caught staring, not wanting anyone to notice the emotion flushing up my cheeks. But now, I had no cause not to stare.
“You’re making me nervous. This is how you look right before you are about to stab me.” He gave a small laugh.
