Page 112 of The Promised Prince
“Wait!” He scooted off the green unit. “I’ve been avoiding you. Now here you are.”
Slowly she turned around. “I thought I was the one avoiding you.”
He chuckled, just a soft laugh, the kind you give more out of courtesy than anything. “How have you been?” he asked.
Renna’s brows bent as she thought back over the last week and a half. The loneliness. The heartache.
Her face must’ve given something away, because he quickly added, “That was a stupid question. Don’t answer that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously nervous.
She tried to ease both their anxiety. “How was Axville?”
“Frustrating. Sad. Disappointing. I just wish I could do more for the people. I repaired some damaged homes. They probably won’t invite me back.” He shrugged. “I’m not that great with tools.”
Not knowing what else to do, she looked to the sky. “It’s a beautiful day.”
He twisted his body to look upward. “Isn’t it? The weather couldn’t be any more perfect.”
“They say it’s going to get cold soon,” she added.
It’s going to get cold soon?
He must have felt the ridiculousness of their conversation as well. “I can’t believe we’ve resorted to talking about the weather.”
She smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”
He smiled too, the big smile that she loved, the smile that gave hints he was about to say something charming. “First of all, I’d like to apologize.”
“For what?” He was going to bring up the kiss.
“For not locking the door behind me the night of the ball.” He smiled, but it didn’t hide everything; it didn’t hide his shame. “They make locks specifically for reasons like that. Specifically, so that your future mother-in-law doesn’t walk in on you kissing somebody other than the bride.”
Renna raised her eyebrows. “They make locks specifically for moments like that?”
“Mm-hmm.” He nodded. “Can’t you picture the lock makers sitting around a table, discussing the worst possible things a human can do? Things you wouldn’t want anyone else to see?” His laugh was cynical. “Kissing your fiancée’s stepsister has to be top of their list.”
She longed to ease his guilt—guilt she was all too familiar with herself. “There are probably a few other things that are worse.”
A hint of playfulness touched his eyes. “Well, maybe a few.” He took his seat back on top of the unit, casting his eyes across the land. She didn’t dare sit by him. Instead, she kept close to the door. It was always good to have an exit strategy.
“There are so many people at the palace right now. I had to get away for a minute. Clear my mind,” he explained.
“Me too.” That wasn’t entirely true. She’d come to the roof not to escape, but as a way to say goodbye to the city that had been her home for the past month. She wasn’t going to tell him she was leaving. He wouldn’t try to stop her, and him not stopping her would hurt more than everything else combined. So she wouldn’t tell him; she wouldn’t test him that way. She’d go on pretending that if he knew, he would surely make her stay.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a slight smile. “Actually, you came up here because you knew I was here. You’ve been following me, waiting for a moment when I was alone so you could”—he slowed his speech dramatically—“killme.”
“Kill you?” She balked at his choice of a storyline, but she was grateful for something light-hearted to talk about. Everything else between them felt so heavy.
“Yes, you came up here to push me off the roof,” he said matter-of-factly.
She smirked. “For not locking the door?”
“Exactly.”
Renna questioned his plan. “Why wouldn’t I have just poisoned you at dinner?”
His head wiggled back and forth. “Too hard.”
“Or shot you from across the room?”
