There’s a marked pause. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting. His sister lives there as well, Harriet.”
“You don’t think there’s any other reason he might be staying at Waterford Palace?”
“Such as…?”
“The queen.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Didn’t you see them dancing together at her coronation? And… the way he’s always watching her across the room, whenever they’re at the same event… I don’t know, it’s like he’s in love with her or something.”
I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. Carter is a statue behind me. I swear, neither of us is breathing anymore.
“How dare you imply such a thing!” Ava practically screeches, her anger cracking out like a bolt of lightning. “Carter Thorne would never even look twice at a pathetic girl likeEmilia Lancaster.He could have anyone in the kingdom. Anyone! Why would he waste his efforts on some frumpy size six with no style, purple hair, and the manners of a dirty peasant?” She hisses out an incredulous breath.
“Of course, Ava. S-Sorry,” Harriet stammers worriedly.
The silence is stony. When Ava speaks again, she’s managed to get her anger under control; her voice is smooth as the surface of a frozen lake. “Once Henry is officially out of the picture, Carter and I will fall back into place. We’re meant to end up together. We always have been. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on him, when we were no more than children.”
My eyes press closed, as if to shut out the poison of her words. I want to turn to look at Carter, to read the truth on his face. To shake him until he promises he’ll never tie his life to Ava Sterling’s. Because, even if he’ll never be mine… I can’t bear the idea of him being hers. It’s too awful.
“You two are like…destiny.” Harriet sounds dreamy. “Your wedding will be the event of the season.”
“Season? Try century.” Ava scoffs. “Our mothers are already in contact, making preliminary arrangements. Carter and Iwillbe married — within the year, if I were to put a timeline on things. No trashy girl masquerading as a royal can interfere with the joining of our households.”
I can almost hear Carter’s teeth grinding together behind me. Waves of anger are emanating from him, a steady pulse in the darkness. He’s about two seconds away from vaulting out of our hiding space and letting Ava have a piece of his mind, I’m sure of it.
Fearful of exposure, I reach backward in the dark, seeking his sleeve again to hold him in place. Instead, I brush against bare skin. His hand. Strong and slightly callused. I’d recognize it amongst a sea of thousands; I have memorized its every line, kissed its every digit, traced each tiny scar that mars its strong knuckles.
The wind leaves my lungs in a whoosh.
Carter’s hands.
I dream about his hands. Touching me. Holding me together. Wiping my tears. Setting my skin on fire. Time and again, they find me in the darkness and… I lose myself completely.
This is no exception.
The effect of his touch is staggering. Potent. A gateway drug to undeniable dangers. Heart thundering in my chest, I try to jerk away, to find his sleeve instead, but his fingers capture mine before I can. In the space between two heartbeats, our grips are twined tightly together in a hold I couldn’t break even if I tried.
The feeling of his palm against mine makes my heart clench painfully inside my chest.
Why is one chaste touch enough to unspool me?
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ava. Even if Carter is in love with the queen, it won’t happen. She’s technically his stepsister, for god’s sake! Can youimaginethe scandal?” Harriet’s mouth is practically frothing at the prospect. “Plus, I heard she is to be married off to the Earl of Lund, Edgar Klingerton, quite soon. They were spotted out courting several months ago.”
“Carter isn’t in love with her!” Ava snaps, ignoring her friend’s assurances. “Stop saying that, Harriet! It’s ridiculous. He’d never touch her. He’d never even consider it.”
Carter’s nose skims the pulse point at my neck, a direct contradiction to her venomous words. It would almost be funny, if I could feel anything resembling humor at the moment. With Carter pressed against me, dominating me in the dark, mere feet from detection by my mortal enemy…
The last thing I feel is amusement.
“Don’t,” I breathe, the word hardly audible over my thundering heartbeat.
He doesn’t say a word, but his nose disappears from my neck. For a foolish moment, I think I’m safe… until I feel the tip of his tongue tracing my jugular vein, tasting my obvious desire like an appetizer for the meal yet to arrive.
Fuck.
His mouth sucks the sensitive hollow beneath my ear and I nearly come apart at the seams — back arching involuntarily, lips clamping down to contain a gasp. My every sense is singing, oversaturated with sudden, unquenchable hunger. To be held. To be touched. To be ruined — by him, for him, beneath him. Up against this stone column, under the stars, uncaring that anyone might stumble upon us.