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I crack my eyes the smallest fraction. Bodies press in around us far closer than I expected. On instinct, I stiffen.
Moria immediately adjusts me in her arms, covering my error. “She might have had too much excitement. I’ll take her to rest.”
Tingles race across my skin. The air constricts. Everything goes weightless and spinney as voices, music, and light fade away. I could be fainting for real with the way the air presses in around me.
And then it stops. The pressure slides away.
A high chuckle fills the silence. “You can wake up now.”
The party is long gone, as is the castle. A star-flecked night sky spreads above us. Bats or some other fae beasties flutter past as deeper shadows against the moonlit darkness.
As Moria settles me back on my feet, I finally catch a glimpse of the lake and realize where we are.
“The lake house?”
“You’d rather be back in the royal apartments at the castle?”
“No.” I love this place. I’ve thought about it often since Sigurd brought me here. “But…”
Moria gives me a knowing smile. “Sigurd will be along in a little while. He can’t leave the party too quickly after you, or the others will realize where he’s gone. He doesn’t want to give them a reason to doubt if you win or to think he interfered in the games.”
No, we definitely don’t want that. He’s got enough trouble as it is. “How will he know I’m here?”
“It was his idea.” She winks. “Have a good evening.”
Chapter 30
Moriadidn’tjustdepositme at Sigurd’s favored home. She left me on the balcony outside his bedroom. There’s no sign or anything, but it has to be his. It even smells like him.
My face flames so hot I have to fan myself. The navy sheets on the grand bed standing across the room are still rumpled and unmade. Somehow, it figures he wouldn’t make his bed. A fae lantern emits dim light from the table separating me from that terrifyingly luxurious monstrosity. Simple foods are laid out with a decanter of wine.
I’m expected. Or someone was, and Sigurd doesn’t seem the type to provide such a display purely for his own enjoyment.
I stir in delicious agony, waiting for him to arrive. Just thinking about the look in his eyes earlier tonight has moisture building between my legs. And that dang bed…
The implication isn’t lost on me.
I’d have balked at it days ago. Smacked him on the shoulder and called him ridiculous, no matter that even then he made my mouth go dry and my heart race faster than any man had in ages.
Truth is, I may have wanted him from the very beginning. But with every step I took toward him, something pushed me back, some horrible revelation about his past.
We all have a past though, and not all of it good, no matter who we are.
Would it be so wrong to enjoy his company while I’m still here? My fingers wander to my lips. I close my eyes, remembering the heat of his kiss, the way the whole world faded away in his embrace, the flick of his tongue—
A stiff breeze comes from nowhere to race across my skin and tug at my hair.
And I know. My body, my soul, recognize his presence before I ever turn toward the balcony.
He’s resplendent in the moonlight. It catches his hair, his crown, and the silver threads and buttons of his coat. Sapphires gleam in the rings on his hand and small earrings dangling from each ear.
Sigurd’s chest rises and falls. His mouth opens and then closes.
But I don’t give him the chance to speak, to find whatever words he searches for. I race across the balcony, just like I’d longed to at the ball, and don’t stop till my arms wind around his neck and I’m standing on my toes with my body pressed against him. He sucks in a breath and his eyes go wide, but it doesn’t stop me.
My lips crash against his, seeking that precious feeling from days ago.
He’s stiff—still as a statue.
