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“No,” I tell Harran. “We can talk tomorrow. Go have fun.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Harran dips his head in a bow, turning to Reena as she steps back from Alia’s transformed dress.
Alia inspects her clothing and grins at her friend. They embrace once more. With a quick curtsy to me, Reena slips her hand into Harran’s offered one, and they glide away toward the dancing couples. I drink in the sight of my bride in her restored dress and step close, slipping my arm around her.
She leans against me and closes her eyes with a deep sigh.
We linger like that a while, neither of us speaking or moving. After a bit, we gather a plate of fruit to share and hang back near the columns. Night glimmers beyond the windows, an invitation and taunt both.
Alia slips her fingers between mine. “Do you want to get out of here?”
I squeeze her hand and glance down just long enough to note the impish glint to her eyes. “Absolutely. I’ll meet you in the hall?”
“Only if you hurry, Your Highness. Otherwise, you might have to catch up.”
She winks, pulls free of me, and spins away. Her dress furls about her as she darts between people.
I don’t hesitate. With a nod to whoever’s still looking our way, I take off after her and break right to head her off. Mere seconds before she bursts into the corridor, I lurch into the hall from another door, and she squeaks as we nearly collide. I grab her hand and lead her toward the nearest exit, onto the terrace, and to the wide stone staircase leading into the gardens. As soon as we reach the bottom, we break into a run. Dodging flowerbeds and fountains, ornamental bushes, and glowing lampposts.
We are shadows in the night, making our breathless escape.
In the middle of the garden, I pull her to the left. We plunge down darkened paths until we reach a stretch of the walkway where fountains on either side throw arcs of water to each other. Amber light glitters against the streams, and I finally stop, spinning to face her — just as water shoots over our heads and douses us in the spray.
“Kirran!” With an amused shriek, she throws up her free hand in a feeble attempt to block the mist. She shoves me away with the other. “This isn’t my dress!”
I stifle a chuckle but don’t attempt to hide my grin. “It’s just water —”
“You’re awful.” She wrinkles her nose at me, hikes up the skirt with both hands, and pointedly shakes out the dress.
A few water droplets land on my skin, but I don’t take my eyes off her. Can’t take them off her. In the glow from the moon and intermittent lamps, with her skin cast in the fountains’ faint haze, she shines. Fully alive. More beautiful than she’s ever been.
And she’s smiling up at me like we were never apart, like neither of us broke the other’s heart, like the years haven’t passed at all. Smiling at me the way she did when I asked her to be mine the first time.
“In my letters,” I begin, my voice dropping to a murmur, “I accused you of betrayal, of lying and breaking the most meaningful promises, of being someone I didn’t know.” My heart threatens to beat out of my chest, but I hold her gaze and take a step closer. “But at the end of them, I said I still love you.”
She stills. Her expression softens, turning more serious as she releases the shimmering folds of her dress. Light glistens on her eyes.
“I meant it, Alia.” Another step. “I love you. I never stopped.”
Her shoulders lift and sink with a shaky sigh. Before she can do anything else, I catch her face between my hands and press my lips to hers.
Unlike the kiss last night which left both of us in anguished tears, this one burns through me like sunlight piercing between leaves. I sense myself moving, pulling her against me even as we stumble closer to the fountain’s stone wall. Plunging my fingers between the strands of her soft hair. Deepening the kiss until my head spins and my hands shake and I strongly consider hauling her off to find someone to marry us tonight.
A gentle push on my chest draws enough of my attention to make me pause, and Alia shifts back. She exhales a giggle. “Youare going to knock us in the fountain, Your Highness.”
I speak through a ragged breath. “Who says that wasn’t my plan?”
She chuckles again and pushes a little harder. I keep my fingers tangled in her hair. Her eyes gleam as she searches my expression.
“I’d really rather not ruin Reena’s dress.”
“Take it off, then.”
“Kirran!” Nothing disguises the pink flush of her cheeks.
But she’s laughing.
She’s laughing, free and sparkling. And there is no sweeter sound amid the chirrups of insects and bubbling fountains than her laughter.
