Page 63 of Their Wicked Cage

Riven’s seated with his back to me in his obscenely large bedroom when I enter late that night.

His hair is tousled, flecked with burnished copper from the fire in the hearth.

As I come into his periphery, he springs out of his chair, snapping his book shut and hiding it behind him.

“You’re not Arkyn,” he says, eyes searching my face. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.”

Right.

After the apothecary, I feigned a stomachache and retired to my suite so I could spend the whole day working on the potion.

“I’m fine,” I say truthfully. My stomach isn’t aching so much as fluttering at the sight of him. “Were you reading something forbidden?”

“Need I remind you I’m the king?” His laugh is huff through his nose. “Nothing is forbidden to me.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he frowns.

He knows I know the truth.

Something is forbidden to him.

But not for much longer.

“I don’t know,” I sing. “You jumped up far too quickly for it to be an innocent story.” I jerk left and right to try to see if I can catch a glimpse of the title. “Come on, tell me. Is it something scandalous? Or raunchy?”

His lips quirk as he fights a smile. “No, Gwyn, I wasn’t reading something scandalous or raunchy.”

“What a shame.” I mock pout. “Avaline used to bring me raunchy books every midsummer. She swore it’d help ‘stimulate my imagination’ as I spent my days alone.”

It might be a trick of the light, but his cheeks flush. It’s faint, but it’s there. A slight pink tinge to the apples of his face, making his usual sharp demeanor somehow boyish.

His eyes trail down the length of me, and it’s then I remember I’m in a thin, silk chemise that cuts off at mid-thigh, with an even thinner silk robe thrown over top. After dinner, Lettie insisted she get me ready for bed, and I couldn’t resist without drawing suspicion. Neither garment does anything to hide the peaks of my nipples as they draw his attention. I force myself to remain still as his gaze lingers there, chest rising and falling faster than usual, before he peels his eyes back up to mine and licks his lips.

He clears his throat and sets the book down on the chair, covering the title with a throw pillow. “What brings you to my bedroom after midnight, little witch?”

“Arkyn said you were looking for me.”

“Yes, but he also said you weren’t feeling well, which I’m starting to suspect was a lie.” His mouth twists to the side. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“Why would I be avoiding you?”

His gaze drops to my lips.

Oh.

“No,” I say, looking away. Suddenly shy and terribly aware of how inappropriately dressed I am to be meeting with the king I agreed I’d help find a bride. “I made you something.”

“You… made me something?” The confusion in his tone has my gaze drifting back to him just to find a small v between his brows.

I nod and hand him the vial with the sparkling tangerine-colored liquid.

He holds it up to the light. “What is this?”

“It’s a potion.”

“And what does it do?”

“It, um, is meant to help you with your… issue,” I say, voice rising on the last word and turning it into what could be mistaken as a question.