Page 110 of A Game of Veils

The concern in her voice is the first definite emotion she’s shown. Jealousy I’m not sure I have any right to feel jabs through my chest and draws me closer to her. “Tarquin’s been pushing him to use his gift too much, but he should be fine once he’s had some rest. Neven wouldn’t have been fine if he’d thrown a fit about it.”

My lips curve into a softer grin. “I’m starting to think you’re not so much a lamb as a shepherdess.”

I was hoping to provoke a smile in return, but she only offers the same impenetrable expression. “I help where I can.”

Anger prickles up alongside another wave of jealousy.

This is all Marclinus’s fault. He ordered me to be a puppet in his psychotic trial; he humiliated both of us.

And he’s going to be the one who has her in the end.

It isn’t fucking right. After what he’s put this woman through, the only thing he deserves is a knife in the gut.

I take another step toward Aurelia, reining in my roiling emotions as well as I can. “You know I didn’t want to be a part of his idiotic test. I didn’t want to be fawning over her with you right there.”

Aurelia shrugs, but heat flashes in her eyes. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve fawned over plenty of ladies when I wasn’t around. I’m not sure why my proximity should make a difference.”

“None of that mattered. It was performing, just like you said.”

“And what do you call what you’ve been doing with me?” she demands.

It isn’t the same. I don’t want the others. I’ve never wanted any of the simpering ladies of Tarquin’s court the way I’ve been burning for this fierce and yet caring woman in front of me.

I saw the full depths of her strength when she fought her way through that wretched illness to cure herself. I knew she’d convinced even Bastien that she wanted to protect our countries as well as her own.

But nothing prepared me for watching her stand up to Marclinus the other night, utterly naked yet unshakably determined, risking her life to save a woman she met only weeks ago. Outmaneuvering the imperial heir in his own sick game.

When her spot remained empty at the breakfast table the next morning, when we realized Lady Fausta must have done something to her—the memory of the anguish that surged up inside me makes my gut shudder all over again.

None of the words I could use feel like enough to convey all that emotion. A strangled sound escapes me.

An urgency I can’t contain—to show her how much she matters, to make her see—propels me forward.

Grasping her waist, I push her up against the nearest tree and plant my lips on hers.

Gods help me, this is a kiss worth all the waiting, all the sniping and sparring of our chaotic flirtation. Her mouth sears against mine, her lips parting like an inevitability. She clutches the collar of my shirt, but only to yank me closer.

I flick my tongue over the seam of her lips to coax them farther apart, and she opens to me. A whimper works from her throat that has me hard in an instant.

The things I want to do with this woman—the things I could do out here in the woods with no one to see?—

Her hands ball against my chest, and then she’s shoving me away.

I let go of her and back up a single pace, heat still flooding my body from our embrace. Even in the dimness, I can see the flush that’s risen in Aurelia’s cheeks, the hungry widening of her eyes.

With a quiver of my gift, I know just how damp her drawers are.

Why is she putting a halt to what we’re both craving?

The words tumble out, harsher than I intend. “We’re not done.”

Aurelia crosses her arms in front of her. “You don’t get to decide that. Not unless you think you’re going to force the issue as Marclinus prefers to.”

The comparison cools my lust while raising my hackles. I wave my hand toward her. “You want this. You’re panting for it.”

“It’s been made very clear to me over the course of the past several days that what I want has little bearing on anything at all.”

Her voice is tart, but the truth behind those words cuts right through the core of me. My anger dwindles too.

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