Page 151 of Royal Rebel

Desfan’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

She waved at the papers. “For this. For sitting with me the other night and saying exactly the right things, even though I didn’t even know what I needed in that moment. Just . . . thank you.”

His eyes softened. “You’re welcome.”

Under his stare, her heartbeat quickened. Needing an excuse to look away from him—even for a moment—she reached for her glass and took a swallow of wine.

“Imara?”

Hearing her name in his deep, rich voice made her belly flutter. She glanced up at him, still holding her glass.

His gaze was direct. “I think we should talk about the kiss we shared.”

Her chest constricted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I disagree.” He leaned forward, his arms braced against his knees. “I was willing to let it rest once, but not anymore.”

“Nothing has to change,” she said quickly, trying to fend off his words. “We’re friends, Desfan.”

“I don’t kiss my friends.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “It was hardly a kiss. It was a moment of high emotion, that’s all.”

“It was a kiss,” Desfan argued gently. “And I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”

Imara’s heart leapt. But just as quickly, her gut twisted. “We can’t,” she whispered. “We’re both betrothed—”

“Serene wants to end our engagement.”

Desfan’s words halted her breath; they stilled the very air in the room. “What?” she breathed.

Determination lined his face. “Serene is going to see if there’s any political way out of our marriage. With war coming from Ryden and a strong alliance with your father, she and I may not have to marry. If I were free, would you want me?”

She stared at him. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and something in her heart cracked. “Desfan, even if you were free, I wouldn’t be. I’m—”

“Imara, I love you.”

Her lungs locked. Her heart leapt, even as her stomach dropped.

Desfan Cassian had just told her that he loved her. It was a dream and a nightmare—impossible, extraordinary, perfect—and terrible. He loved her, but she could never be his.

Desfan rubbed the back of his neck, color high on his cheeks. “Fates, I didn’t mean to just say it like that—I wasn’t planning on saying anything quite yet. I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, but . . . I can’t keep pretending to ignore what’s between us.”

She struggled to find her voice; even when she found it, her words came out hoarse. “There is nothing between us—just friendship.”

“Imara Buhari, I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I first saw you. I think you know that.”

Silence permeated the room, the only sound their strained breaths.

Tears stung her eyes, and she begged the fates to have a shred of mercy. If she started crying in front of him, she would die.Please don’t let him see my broken heart.

Her throat was tight and hot, but she forced it to loosen. “Desfan—”

Raised voices in the hall cut through the closed door. She and Desfan shared a look, and he was quick to stand as the door was pushed open by a harried-looking Mortisian guard.

“Apologies for the interruption, Serjan—Princess.” He offered an abbreviated bow to them both. “I’m afraid he was quite insistent about being shown up immediately.”

Desfan’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

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