I exhale, noticing how shaky the action sounds, how shaky my body has become. I pull back the bowstring as another finger traces under my forearm, grazing my skin.
My arrow lands two whole rings away from the center but my mind is elsewhere, on the phantom touches making their way up and down my arm. I don’t remember grabbing another arrow, but it’s nocked onto my bow when I look down.
Slowly, so damn slowly, she lets her fingers slide over my skin, heavier than before. A single touch has never made me feel so on fire. And she knows exactly what she is doing. She knows that barely feeling her at all will drive me mad in a way I can’t explain, in a way I’ve never felt before.
“You’re a cruel, little thing, you know that?” My voice is deep, desperate.
“But I’ve barely laid a finger on you,” she says softly, emphasizing her words with a single finger tracing up my forearm.
“Exactly.”
Maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe I chose to distract her because I knew she was too stubborn to not do the same to me. Maybe I did it all just because I wanted her hands on me too. Because it was an excuse for me to hold her, for her to hold me. And now that she isn’t, I’m craving her touch. Craving her.
I fire the arrow, not bothering to wait and see where it lands before I’ve thrown my bow to the ground, spun around, and gripped her wrists instead. I pull her towards me, staring into her startled eyes. Her lips part, either in surprise or because she’s about to tell me off, I’m not sure.
“Don’t,” I pause, swallow, exhale slowly, “play with me like that.”
She stares at me. Her mouth opens and closes again, clearly hoping words will fall out. I hold her gaze as I guide one of her hands to my arm, dropping her other wrist to pull her closer by the waist. Her palm meets my skin and it’s almost like I remembered how to breathe again. I press my hand on top of hers, holding her skin firmly against mine. I smile now that she’s finally, fully touching me, rather than taunt me with tips of teasing fingers.
A single touch from her, or the lack of it, is enough to drive me mad.
What has she done to me?
I take my hand off hers, fingers trailing down her arm before dropping it to my side. But she doesn’t drop hers, instead leaving her palm in place. She stares at where her skin meets mine before her gaze finally trails up to my face. She smirks, but it’s as weak as her voice. “I didn’t realize a single touch could affect you so much.”
“Neither did I.”
Her eyes dart away from mine, almost looking timid as she lets her hand trace down my arm before dropping it completely. Then she cranes her neck, looking around me at the target behind.
She smiles at what she sees.
“You lost, Azer.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Paedyn
“Focus, Paedyn. Just calm down and focus. You can do this.”
I nod in response to Kitt’s reassuring words, shutting my eyes before taking a deep breath. After a moment, I peek at him and nod again. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Kitt heaves a dramatic sigh, his eyes filled with amusement. Then he says, slowly, “Three…” I smile knowingly back at him. “Two…” I tilt my head up. “One.”
In a flash, he throws something into the air. I open my mouth expectantly, ready to savor the sweetness of the chocolate, only for it to land on my nose before bouncing off onto the floor.
Kitt’s laughter echoes off the walls of the busy kitchen, and I catch the servants smiling at the familiar sound. He holds a hand up to me when I start to speak, clearly needing a moment to collect himself before he looks at me. But when he finally straightens and meets my gaze, he’s laughing again.
“Okay, so my coordination when it comes to catching food in my mouth isn’t…great,” I mumble, unable to stop my smile from spreading.
“Isn’t great?” Kitt runs a hand through his messy hair, still choking on laughter. “Tell that to Gail who has wasted half her chocolates on you.”
I cross my arms defiantly. “Well, you didn’t catch every chocolate either, Your Majesty.”
Kitt leans closer and flashes me a smile. “True. But I at least ate the evidence. You, on the other hand,” his gaze slides to the floor now littered with sweets, “did not.”
I snort, drop to the ground, and begin collecting the tiny chocolates in my cupped hand. Kitt’s suddenly crouching in front of me, helping place them in my awaiting palm. I stare at him for a moment, still stunned with every show of kindness or shared smile. But with all the time I’ve been spending with him lately, the differences between the king and his son seem to surprise me less and less.
A partnership I only accepted to get noticed by the people has now blossomed into an unlikely friendship. It isn’t hard to spend most of my days talking and spending time with the future king to find the tunnel for the Resistance. None of it is hard, though the guilt that is eating away at me for doing it is. I selfishly find myself wishing he were more like his father because it would make this betrayal far more bearable.
A small, pretty servant passes by, gasping at the sight of us. “I know, I know.” Kitt sighs, “She’s horrible at catching things in her mouth.”
“No, no, Your Highness!” The servant rushes over, alarm written all over her face. “Please, don’t trouble yourself! I’ll clean this up right away!” Before I can speak, she’s already dropped beside me and begun plucking the chocolates from my palm.
“Thank you, Liza,” Kitt says, standing. He holds out his hands for me, and I take them, letting him pull me to my feet.
Liza smiles at her prince. “It’s my pleasure, Your Highness.”
Of course he knows his servants by name.
Dozens of them bustle about around us, bumping into each other in their haste to get where they need to be while a booming voice calls out to us. “Kitt, I love you, dear, but I don’t think my kitchen can hold one more person!” I spot Gail eying us from across the room, smiling at what she sees. Then she gestures with her hands, shooing us out the door. “But since I’m kicking you out, you will have to come visit me again soon.”
Kitt chuckles and places a gentle hand on my back, and I don’t flinch away from his touch. He guides me towards the door while calling out, “Oh, you couldn’t keep me away, Gail.”
The hallway is teeming with servants, all busy and bustling in preparation for the next ball tomorrow night—a reminder of the dwindling time I have left to find the tunnel that leads into the box.
I have spent day after day with Kitt, earning his trust all while crafting a plan to get the information I need.
I almost run into a servant, or rather, they almost run into me. The gangly boy shouts his apologies before scurrying off to wherever it is he needs to go.
Perfect timing. Here goes nothing.
I turn towards Kitt and force out a laugh. “Don’t you ever just need a break from the chaos of the castle?” Even as I say it, I already know the answer. He practically admitted to feeling trapped in the palace, in his position, when we were stuffed in the saferoom together. And yet, here I am, using that information he trusted me with against him.
He looks at me, eyes seeming to search mine with a certain sadness. “You have no idea.”