Page 98 of A Crown of Lies

“I mean, we’re together, and committed. But we’re not married. That’d be too… complicated.”

“Marriages are largely political anyway,” Saya said, shrugging. “At least here.”

Mercia frowned. “There’s nothing between you and Niro then?”

She never would have guessed. The two of them were always together, always trading whispers and kisses with genuine smiles.

“Oh, there is definitely chemistry. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a wonderful husband. Sweet, attentive, giving… but Niro is not the partner I would have chosen had I been given the chance, and I know he never would have chosen me.”

“Is there someone else then?”

Saya’s eyes flicked up and met Mercia’s with a coy smile.

“I’m sorry,” Mercia immediately said. “That was prying and rude.”

Saya’s dimples deepened. “Not at all. It’s no secret. No, there isn’t anyone specific. Growing up a Runecleaver, my mate was decided for me long before I ever considered it. But if I had been given the choice, I would not have chosen a male partner.”

“Oh.” Mercia’s face flushed for no reason. “You’re… You like women.”

“I hear that’s frowned upon in human society. Is that true?”

Mercia shrugged and looked away. “In some places. Not in Brucia or most of the Free Cities. The Eight Divines have been recognizing same-sex marriages for some time, even if they aren’t quite as open about it as places like Savarra. In countries like Qet, however, that isn’t the case. They have very rigid ideas about gender and sex.”

“Elves do, too, in some ways.” Saya sighed and turned forward, holding her chin in her hands. “No one cares about lovers and mistresses, especially in the upper echelons of society. However, we are still expected to wed and provide heirs. No care is given to preferences when you have a name like Runecleaver or Wolfheart. All that matters is power and getting more of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mercia said, a genuine ache growing in her chest. She reached out and put a hand on Saya’s arm. “That must be difficult. I hope Niro is understanding, at least?”

She chuckled. “Oh, more than understanding. He and I have an arrangement of sorts.”

“What sort of arrangement?”

Before Saya could answer, the clerk approached with a single long dish. He bowed and placed it before them. Mercia’s eyes widened and her mouth watered at the dish he’d prepared for them. Four little chocolate shells sat on the plate, each one made in the shape of a rose. Inside each shell was a smooth white moose, several red berries that Mercia didn’t recognize, and little curls of white and dark chocolate. Something reddish-gold had been sprinkled over the top the whole thing in a pattern, and heart-shaped swirls had been drawn on the plate with expert hands, berries placed in the center of each.

“Hartberries,” Saya said and plucked one from the plate. “They’re incredibly expensive because they’re so rare, cultivated only with delicate magic in the most controlled conditions. You simply have to try it.” She held it out.

Mercia reached for the elegant looking berry, but Saya pulled away.

“They’re delicate,” Saya offered with another coy smile. “Open?”

Mercia hesitated, glancing over at the clerk, who’d busied himself cleaning up. His back was to them, and he wasn’t paying one lick of attention. She opened her mouth and Saya gently pressed the berry past her lips.

The hartberry was strangely sweet and sour at the same time, almost like a milder cranberry. It made her lips want to pucker at the sourness of it while her teeth ached at the sweetness.

Saya smiled. “It’s even better with the chocolate,” she said, lifting one of the little flower cups and offering it next.

Mercia took the offered bite. The flower cup was too big to fit in her mouth with one bite, and she blushed in horror as some of the vanilla flavored crème spilled down her chin. Her hand shot out to keep it from dripping all over the front of her, but that didn’t save her chin.

Saya just laughed and put the ruined cup down. “Allow me,” she said, and swept deft fingers over Mercia’s chin. She met Mercia’s eyes before sucking the crème from her fingers.

Heat flushed through Mercia, churning in her belly, and pooling hot and wet between her legs as Saya made a show of it. She shifted in her seat, more unsure than ever. Was Saya flirting with her? If she was, how was she supposed to react? Probably not as she was.

Ever since that night at the Starfall estate, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the beautiful, masked woman. She’d never learned the woman’s name, or anything about her, but Mercia could not forget the feel of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the perfect way they’d nearly melted together. It was confusing to think of that, to want someone she knew nothing about, and still want Aryn.

Luckily, he’d been in a mood since then, too. They’d barely been able to keep their hands off of each other ever since that night, much to Ruith’s displeasure.

It made no sense, though. Why would wanting someone else—a stranger—make her want Aryn more? And why was she suddenly feeling the same thing in the chocolate shop with Saya?

Besides, Saya was Niro’swife, and Niro was going to be the next Primarch if Aryn and Ruith had their way. It would be a terrible scandal for Mercia to even admit what she felt, let alone act upon it.

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