Page 86 of To Dance with Death

“There goes the last remnant of a gown I spent years crafting in such painstaking detail it nearly drove me mad.” At that, he plops into a chair. Folds his arms like a child denied his treats and blows a gust to shoot a lock of hair from his eyes.

Once again, I have to suppress a laugh. I think that now, I have truly seen him at his worst. I’ve seen so many versions of him, it’s as if he’s a figurine in my hands, and I’ve examined him from every angle beneath a glaring, unflattering light. The drunkard. The philanderer. The petulant, spoiled boy.

And still he’s so beautiful. Even here, with that painted scowl, his legs kicked out, his head tossed back underneath a bar of sunlight piping through the window from between a stretch of cloud.

“The gown,” I say, teasing. “Had you planned on wearing it yourself, Majesty?”

He doesn’t rise to my bait. “Ademi would have worn it on our wedding day. Lucky me to have avoided such a shackling.”

Princess Ademi, the Lord Sovereign of Serai’s niece. I recall what Gustav told me.They wrote letters. She visited often. But the summer they were set to make it official, she called it off, and he’s refused to speak of it since. I think it hurt him more than he wants to admit.

“I dare you to tell me the full truth,” I say. “About her. The engagement. Why it really ended.” I’ve been longing to know. Besides, I’m starting to think his aversion to love is more than justMoranya’s curse. It’s an existing wound she merely ripped open, and one I need to understand.

“What will you give me in return?”

“I don’t have much to give,” I say.

He presses a thumb to his lips. “I disagree. There are a great many things you refuse to give me.”

“Such as?”

“A kiss,” he says. “At a time of my choosing.”

“You vowed not to touch me like that unless I invited it.”

“If I recall, it was you who set your lips to mine.”

“I was feverish!”

“Feverish enough to let your inhibitions down and claim what you wanted. This time, Vasalie, I would ask that you try it knowing full well what you are doing. Do it afraid.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re the one prying into my love life,” he says, flippant. “Interesting, that. One can’t help but wonder why.” I don’t miss the slight, sarcastic grin making a crescent of his lips, though still he avoids my gaze. “Decide if you wish to pay the cost for pressing on such a bruise.”

I skirt my gaze toward the shelves, biting my lip against the flush of heat along my neck and cheeks.

A kiss.

“I’m not asking for your virtue, Vasalie. I’m asking for you to let yourself have something you want. Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you long for me in return?”

I gulp a steadying breath, only to feel even more unmoored.

“Decide,” he says, impatient.

“A chaste kiss,” I say. “Closemouthed.” I can’t handle more. Not from him.

Not when he’s right. I long for him so deeply. I long for him like a hibiscus in need of rain, its leaves withering and ready to fall. Yet I know that when rain finally comes, it will be a monsoon. It will uproot and destroy what’s left if I can never make him mine.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “If I wish to kiss you until the moon wakes and wanes, I shall do it. The kiss is at my behest. But I vow it to be asinglekiss. Only one, and nothing more.”

My breath seems to vibrate in my chest.

The air grows still and silent.

Still, he does not look at me.

“I want the full story for such a price,” I say. “Leave nothing out.”