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Rian, who had been hunched over a desk with one hand on his head while he read a hefty tome, straightened in his chair, startled. His gaze dazed and unfocused. His pupils were dilated as if they had been glued to the pages for hours. Slamming his book shut, he shoved it underneath his arm, shaking the table as he stood. He detangled his fingers buried in his hair, and the ends stuck up in a wild pattern, making him appear more boyish than kingly.
He cleared his throat as though he had not talked for hours and could not remember how. “Kalisandre, what are you—” He stopped mid-sentence as his attention dropped to the book in Kallie’s hands. “Is that Everling?”
Kallie flipped to the cover where J.S. Everling’s name shimmered in gold foil and smiled. “It is. She’s one of my favorites. Her syntax is . . .” Kallie searched for a word to describe the author’s writing. A term that could encompass how the writer strung sentences together or howshe could make Kallie sit back and reread the ink on the page a dozen times while her heart broke. Sometimes, Kallie would come across a passage and feel like the words on the page were written just for her and no one else.
“Simply superb,” Rian suggested.
Kallie hugged the book against her chest, blushing slightly. “Indeed.”
“She’s one of my favorites, too,” Rian said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“That would explain why the Everling collection is as massive as it is. I expected to see one, maybe two books of hers. But all of them? Color me impressed.”
“What can I say?” Rian shrugged bashfully. “I like to have my library well-stocked.”
Kallie tipped her chin, smiling. “An understatement. It’s an absolutely splendid collection, Your Majesty.”
Despite their conversation’s familiarity, Rian visibly shrunk within himself at the mention of his title, and a wall rose between them once again. And Kallie remembered why she had come here. She wasn’t here to discuss books or their favorite authors, as easy as it was to do for a moment. This was the man she was to marry, whom she was to manipulate and steal from. Pleasantries were one thing, but finding a connection between one another? Foolish, impudent, dangerous.
Connections had blinded Kallie once before. She wouldn’t go down that path again.
Kallie leaned against the bookshelf behind her, her hip popping out to the side. “Are you sure you’re not avoiding me?”
Rian set the book on the table. “Despite what it may look like, Princess, I promise I am not intentionally avoiding you.”
“Oh, but we’re back to titles?”
“I—” He blinked, but then his gaze narrowed. “You did it first.”
Kallie chuckled. “What if you had forgotten who I was? After all, we have only met—what? Once?”
“I do not believe one is capable of forgetting you, Kallie,” Rian said, voice airy and light.
Kallie looked away, pretending to hide a rising blush as she curled a piece of hair around her ear. “I am not one to presume such things.”
“Well, perhaps you should. You are . . .” Rian laughed nervously.
Kallie lifted her gaze as the rest of Rian’s thought remained unspoken.
The little king’s embarrassed. How cute.
Kallie stepped forward, holding the book tighter to her chest and tilting her head to the side. “I am . . . ?”
The candle’s flame flickered, and shadows danced across Rian’s face.
“Rather attractive,” he mumbled.
“Oh?”
Only a table separated them now.
“Mhm.” Rian rubbed that spot at the back of his head again as he avoided Kallie’s gaze.
“You’re not too bad to look at either, My King,” Kallie said.
“Back to titles, are we?” he asked mockingly.
“No.” Kallie laughed. “Just claiming what is mine.”
