Page 56 of Sharpest Court

“That’s all right. I trust you.”

I tutted. “Didn’t Rose Season teach you anything?” I asked wryly. “Never trust a viper.”

“Didn’t Rose Season teach you anything?” He matched my tone, a deeper smile in his voice. “I happen to like vipers.”

I looked toward him and found that wicked dimple creasing his left cheek. My skin flushed as I stepped backward—out from between his knees, but still close enough that he had to crane his neck to meet my eyes.

“I’m very fortunate you stumbled upon this hallway . . .” He arched a brow. “Three hours past midnight.”

I winced. “I locked myself out of my bedchamber.”

His brow rose higher. “So you came to spend the night in mine?”

I glared at him, which only made his smile fuller. We both knew this was not an appropriate conversation for allies. But my specter was fluttering faster inside me again—feeling more familiar than it had in weeks. So, meeting his tease, I said, “I had no choice. Lye doesn’t live here.”

Keil laughter was full and bright, the sound tumbling my stomach. “You wound me, my lady.”

I cocked my head. “Why do you still call me that?”

“Do you not like it?” he asked with that same note of teasing, like he wanted me to admit how much I wanted my name in his mouth.

“We’re allies,” I said. “Allies can address one another by name.”

“All right.” He set his palms on his knees and leaned back in challenge. “Then say my name.”

I gave a startled laugh. “Excuse me?”

“My name,” he repeated, eyes sparkling in the dimness. “I’ve never heard you say it.”

I frowned, rifling through my memory. “That can’t be true.”

“Oh, but it is. You’ve called me by my last name. You’ve called me by my titles. You’ve called me a hundred foul names in your mind, I’m sure—but never my first name. Not to my face.” When I frowned deeper, unconvinced, Keil’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “Believe me. I would have remembered the sound of it on your lips.”

Heat swept over me again. I didn’t realize I’d drifted back between his knees until his scent enveloped me, evoking memories that seemed to exist so far back in time. His arms around me in Carmen’s closet. The touch of his specter on the palace balcony. His soft lips, trailing down my neck as if in worship.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, voice low. His face was tipped upward to take me in, the lantern light gilding the edge of his jaw and brightening the gold in his eyes.

I swallowed, pulse drumming at my throat. “About what?”

“That kiss,” he said hoarsely, and I realized he’d journeyed into the same memory. And, like me, he was struggling to return from it.

My breaths turned shallow, trembling with every exhale. “Sometimes,” I admitted.

“Oh?” Keil’s left hand slowly reached toward me. “When?”

At the first touch of his fingers, gently wrapping around the back of my knee, my entire body lit up. My specter rolled out of its own accord, lapping over Keil’s hand with warm, fluid ripples.

I flushed at the stark broadcasting of my desires. But before I could feel too embarrassed, Keil brushed a knuckle against those ripples in a caress—a reminder that I had nothing to be ashamed of. Especially when it came to my specter.

I swayed closer, and he echoed the movement with a slight pull on the back of my knee, his palm feverish on my bare skin.

“When, my lady?” he asked, so softly that I couldn’t deny him an answer.

“The first time we rode here in the carriage,” I said, breathless. “Earlier, in the inn.” My head emptied as the pad of his thumb drifted over my kneecap, making an absent little sweep. “Now,” I whispered, my heavy-lidded gaze shuttering on his.

Keil’s throat bobbed, his grip twitching around my knee as though he longed to buckle it. To fold me down onto him, so that my mouth might land on his once more.

Instead, his hand traveled a few inches upward, cupping the back of my lower thigh as he drew me closer. So I remained standing over him, cocooned in the warmth of his body, my loose hair gliding over his chest.