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“Of course,” Anya had replied. “But I must only be an accent. It is the King who must shine.”
That had changed the mood in the room. Considerably.
And it was not until later that Anya—who would once have ripped off heads if anyone had suggested she was anaccentto a man—realized that somehow...she meant that.
The realization hit her like a blow as she stood in her glorious shower, and when her heart kicked in, she froze. She expected the panic to rush at her, to take her to the shower floor. She expected to sit there, naked and wet and miserable, until it finished with her.
But the panic didn’t come.
No nausea, no hyperventilating, no worries that she might aspirate her own saliva and choke while unable to help herself.
The hot water rained down upon her. Anya pressed the heel of her hand into that tightness in her solar plexus, hard.
But still, though she could feel that she wasagitated, there was no panic.
“Because I chose this,” she whispered out loud. “I chose him.”
It was hardly a thread of sound, her voice. She could barely hear herself over the sound of the water.
But it rang in her, loud and true, and kept ringing long after she left the shower and dried herself off.
The night they announced their engagement, Tarek did not eat dinner with her the way he’d been doing, too caught up was he in matters of state. Anya ate alone, enjoying her solitude now that it was not enforced. She read a book. She caught up with her far-flung friends, many of whom could not make it to this remote kingdom on such short notice, no matter how they wished they could. She let herself...be part of the world again.
After she ate, she sat outside. She found she couldn’t get enough of the desert evenings. The sunsets were spectacular, a riot of colors that never failed to make her catch her breath. And even in the dark, she could feel the desert itself, stretching on and on in all directions, almost as if it called to her. She wrapped herself up in a blanket when she grew cold and stayed tucked up under the heaters, watching the magical old city bloom as the lights came on. Her aides had taken her on a guided tour of the narrow streets, the ancient buildings stacked high, and the more she saw of it, the more she loved it.
A mystery around every corner. History in every step. And wherever she turned, the people who smiled at her and called out their support of Tarek. Making her foolish heart swell every time she heard it.
They were not the only ones who adored him.
She didn’t think she fell asleep, but one moment she was gazing out at the city and the next, he was there. As if she’d conjured him from the spires and lights that spread out behind him.
Anya smiled, then studied that face of his, sensual and harsh at once. “What’s the matter?”
She was learning how to read him now, this man she would marry in seven days. He was always fierce. He was always, without question, the King. But there were different levels of ferocity in him, and tonight it seemed...darker.
Something inside her curled up tight in a kind of warning. The knot inside her grew three sizes.
But she kept her gaze on Tarek, and ignored them both.
“Nothing is the matter,” he told her, standing there at the foot of the chaise where she was curled up. In a voice that was little more than a growl. “Save my own weakness.”
“You have a weakness?” Anya asked lightly. “Quick, tell me what it is, so I might exploit it.”
Tarek didn’t laugh at that. His hard mouth did not betray the faintest curve. Anya ordered herself not to panic, or note that it felt too much like loss.
Or worse, ask herself how she could feel the things she felt after so little time.
“I spent the night in tense negotiations,” Tarek said, staring down at her as if he couldn’t quite make sense of her. Or as if Anya haddone somethingto him. “It is the kind of diplomacy that I abhor. Snide remarks masquerading as communication. All employed by men who would never last a moment on any kind of real battlefield. Still, these things are part of what I am called to do. As such, they deserve my full attention.”
“I’m sure you give everything your full attention.”
As it happened, Anya had become something like obsessed with the force of Tarek’s full attention. With the sorts of things he could do with all thatfocus. Her body shivered into readiness at once, her nipples forming hard peaks, her belly tightening, and the soft, yearning place where she wanted him most like fire.
The ways she hungered for this man never ceased to surprise her. But the way he looked at her now did. As if she’d betrayed him in some way.
“The only thing I could think about was you,” he told her, his voice a rough scrape against the dark.
It was not a declaration of feelings. It was an accusation.
