Page 48 of A Kingdom of Destruction

She had experience, physically at least. But she’d never given her heart to anyone, too afraid to trust anyone else to open up in the way she needed. There were no romantic entanglements in her life to make things messy. No, her entire focus had been on the war.

Her lips tightened.

“Why do you care?” she grunted. “Why come here at all? Just keep your distance from me.”

“Oh, I’ve been keeping my distance. Things get a little boring when you have eternity to think about.” He said it so lightlyshe wondered if he meant it. “It’s much more fun to watch you react.”

That was what she did, too. She reacted, no matter how she tried to rein herself in and watch herself.

“Look at you, Aven. If you stopped to think instead of blindly fighting, you might be able to actually learn something,” Roran continued.

Time and again he knocked her to the ground. Time and again she rose and came at him again, with everything she had, her hands curling into claws.

“If I had my sword—” she growled out.

“You would what?” Roran arched an imperious brow up toward his silver hairline. “You’d kill me?”

She swallowed hard and let him fill in the answer.

“I know you want me dead, little Princess,” he cooed. Chucking his staff aside and staring at her, giving her an open invitation to hit him a final time. “That’s what makes this so interesting.” He licked his lips. “There is nothing like the threat of violence to add to the foreplay.”

With that, he left her, silent and gawking at him as he strode out of the room. Left her with the blood boiling in her veins and an uncomfortable sensation in her chest and between her legs.

17

“The Crown Prince wants you to wear these leathers.” Nora held out a pair of stitched pants, and Aven stared at them, confusion skewing her lips into a twisted pout.

“Why?”

“I don’t ask the monarchy to explain their whims. Please, Miss Aven, let’s get you dressed.” Nora stared at her pleadingly.

She’d never get used to having a maid, Aven decided, hauling herself out of bed and lifting her arms over her head, subject to Nora’s whims. Or would it be Prince Cillian’s whims?

Back at home, her own maids had bemoaned her independence, and most of them took up positions with her siblings when she repeatedly dismissed them. Their services were unnecessary and much more appreciated by Geleis or Iona. Aven preferred to do everything herself.

Nora either refused to take the hint or Cillian refused to let her go elsewhere.

Aven still hadn’t decided if Nora was a spy for the prince or not. Eventually, she finished dressing Aven and braided her hair on either side of her head, the strands interwoven with delicategolden threads and twisted into a complicated knot at the nape of her neck. Nora smoothed a stray hair away from Aven’s face, her fingers briefly brushing against the phantom runes still fading with time.

“Have fun today,” she said in farewell.

Aven’s stomach gave an audible grumble at the words, and Nora swallowed over a laugh.

The leathers were a welcome change compared to the flowing dresses she’d been forced to wear. The material warmed against her skin with every step as she took the now-familiar path down to the parlor where she and Cillian had been having breakfast. The only thing on the table when she arrived was a note pointing her in a different direction.

The last thing she wanted was to go on a scavenger hunt.

The morning sun streamed in through the towering windows as she pushed her way out the main door and headed into the garden. The trees opened up, and there stood Cillian, his golden hair burnished by the sun as he finished buckling the buttons of his shirt across his chest.

His face tugged at her. Handsome and carved from stone, his lips set in a smile, he was too handsome for his own good. “You found your way.”

She held the note high and grinned. “Mind explaining what’s going on?”

Cillian snapped his fingers, and two liveried servants stepped out from around the corner of the palace, drawing two horses with them. The first one, a rich chestnut, snorted at the sight of the crown prince, and the other cast a silent eye in her direction,an Appaloosa with dappled spots of white amidst a coat of oaky brown.

“I need to see the village today, and I thought you might like to go with me. A ride never hurt anyone. We’ll have our breakfast afterward.” Without waiting for her agreement, Cillian strode toward the chestnut stallion—no doubt it had to be a stallion; the crown prince wouldn’t be content with a mare—and mounted into the saddle.

His grace and fluidity suggested he’d done this a thousand times before. More.

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