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“I used to spend the little free time I had reading,” I tell him as we finish up the food.
“Then I need to take you to the royal library!” he says excitedly. “You’ll love it there. That library has the most books in Pyrthos.”
“But isn’t it just for the royals?” I ask him cautiously.
But Valkus just smiles at me and then winks, before leaning forward to kiss my nose.
“This is what comes from being with a royal painter! I’m one of Pyrthos’s artists in residence, so I spend a lot of time in the palace, anyway. They’ll let you in, don’t worry.”
The thought makes something bloom in my chest, something I don’t understand.
I think I’m falling for him. Now that I know who he really is, I think to myself.
I settle against him, and he puts his arm back around my shoulders.
“I could fall asleep here,” I murmur a little later as we watch the city’s lights twinkle on. “It is so peaceful here.”
“That’s what my parents were going for,” Valkus tells me conversationally. “They may not be the nicest people, but they do have a good eye for landscaping.”
“They really do,” I agree before I sit up.
Valkus turns to me then and brushes an errant strand of hair away from my face before he leans in to kiss me.
And I don’t stop him.
Because I know now that this is exactly what I want.
VALKUS
I’VE FOUND HER.
When Althia and I first kiss, I shudder from the pleasure of it, of her.
Everything about her consumes me, envelops me, and threatens to drive me insane.
Her mouth is soft and generous, and she kisses me back as passionately as I kiss her.
She wants me.
I’ve found her.
My family’s property sprawls on for acres and acres. And I think tonight, I am for the first time admiring the handiwork of the dozens of zagfer gardeners my parents have employed over the years.
Althia and I sit in a little grove on the crest of a hill, overlooking the city of Pyrthos. The bulk of my family’s estate sits at the base of the hill behind us and is surrounded by a small moat to prevent flooding.
This grove has always been my favorite place. I used to paint and sketch here, in a little tower that still stands a few feet away from where we sit when I was a child.
I have always associated the tower with the strong scent of paints, and the sweet, tart scents of nimond bean and rirzed herbs, which grow all over the Elenil property.
But now, as Althia and I cling to one another, those vivid memories dissolve from my mind.
And I know that now, and for the rest of my life, whenever I think of the grove and the tower, I’ll think of Althia’s mouth, too. I’ll think of her perfume and the feel of my hand threaded through her silky hair.
For the first time in my life, there is something more important to me than painting.
When Althia and I pull away from one another, we are both trembling, both gasping, both still reaching for one another.
I swallow, my throat going dry as I look at her. I reach for her face, and her eyes flutter closed when I cup her cheek with my hand.
