“Perhaps I can teach you.” I kept my voice just as soft, even though my heart was hammering in my chest.
He looked at me from beneath hooded eyes. “Perhaps you can.”
We’d reached the front steps of the palace and walked toward the tanga waiting at the bottom.
Noor was by the carriage looking decidedly unruffled and not like she’d been combing the palace for secrets.
At the unexpected sight of her I stumbled on the stairs, nearly pitching forward. Mazin reached out to steady me, his hand grabbing my forearm and his arm on my waist. His touch was warm, rippling through me like a brand.
He stared down at me, his mouth slightly parted.
“Are you all right?”
“I hope so.” I pressed my teeth together, trying to ignore the fact that I didn’t hate the way I felt when he got close to me. I didn’t hate the way he looked at me when our eyes met. Like he could consume me.
Like he was scheduled for execution and I was his final meal.
But he’s not looking at you. He’s looking at Sanaya.
That thought jolted me out of my haze, and I moved half a step closer, enough to see the lighter cracks of brown threaded through his dark eyes. His eyebrows lifted at my sudden nearness, but he didn’t move back, meaning I hadn’t pressed my luck, not yet.
Underneath the anger, underneath the feeling of wanting to stabhim to death, I found myselfmissingthis. Missing him. Talking to him. Sharing things together.
Don’t fall into your own trap.
I looked over at Noor waiting by the tanga, and her bright eyes met mine. I cleared my throat.
“It was a pleasure to spend time with you and your sister today. I hope in time you will see there is nothing I ask from either of you except friendship. I have no agenda, there is no debt to repay.”
He tipped his head down to me and it felt as if my heart was trapped in my throat and the only way I could breathe would be if I removed it entirely.
“I don’t have many friends, Sanaya. But I will accept your friendship.”
He took my hands in his, then pressed them to his lips. They were warm and dry, and it would be a lie to say I was repulsed, that the only thing I was thinking about was revenge.
Instead of fighting it, I leaned into the feeling, the crackle of fire underneath my skin something I hadn’t felt since we’d last been together.
I hoped he felt it too. I hoped his body remembered mine, like every inch of my treacherous skin knew his.
I looked up at him, through my altered eyes.
He gripped my hands and his breath hitched tight in his chest. His pupils dilated, lips parting slightly.
I had him.
I walked to the tanga, my fingers slipping from his, though he seemed reluctant to let go. Finally, he did, and I pulled away, watching him flex his hand against his side after he did so.
Then I climbed into the carriage, leaving Mazin behind in the dust.
Twenty-four
Before
My bedroom window creaked, then shut with a thud. I sat up, my heart in my stomach, my fingers immediately feeling under my pillow for the bite of my blade.
A silhouette stood stark against the glowing moonlight. A scream lodged itself in my throat, fear gripping me in its vise until I slid the dagger out.
But something stopped me from throwing it. There was familiarity in the broad shoulders, slightly caved inward, the determined set of the profile, a recognizable curl of hair standing up in an odd direction.
