Page 57 of The Dragon's Promise

He didn’t stop, and curse him, he was going in the right direction.

Fast as he was, he’d had only six months to explore the palace’s vast gardens. I’d had seventeen years. I diverged from the pebbled paths, dashing through the bushes across a plot of flat limestone rocks, and past the reflection gallery. Thanks to my shortcut, I arrived at the Cloud Pavilion—a hidden retreat nestled between two begonia trees—seconds before Takkan.

I twisted my lips, relishing the stunned look on his face when he realized I’d beaten him. He bowed, partly to acknowledge my victory and partly to lean forward and catch his breath.

“All that dallying with the ministers has you out of shape, young Lord Bushi’an,” I teased. “What happened to the runs you went on every morning in Iro?”

A smile spread across Takkan’s face, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the mist that suddenly touched his eyes. “I’m only out of breath from seeing you again, Shiori.”

Shiori. The way he said my name hadn’t changed, like the first notes to a song he loved to sing. Suddenly I was glad I’d bathed and changed.

A blush crept up my cheeks. “The ministers surely didn’t teach you to talk like that,” I said hastily. “You sound like you’re quoting one of those silly love poems my tutors used to make me read. You should know they always made me laugh. No one’s that romantic.”

Takkan was still smiling. “Then laugh,” he said in all seriousness. “I’ve missed the sound of you.”

I’ve missed the sound of you. Only Takkan could make something so ridiculous seem like a fact. I could barely summon a breath, let alone a laugh, and before I could stop, I threw myself into his arms and said, “I’ve missed all of you.”

He held me close, and I let the beat of his heart wash away the noise of summer. Even in this secluded veranda, the cicadas trilled stridently, and Kiki, who had long since flitted off, was exchanging throaty calls with the other birds. There was nowhere in the world I would rather be.

“How’d you even know about this place?”

“Hasho said you used to run off here when you skipped your lessons.”

I made a face. “Traitor.”

Takkan laughed. “He said it was your favorite pavilion. It’s become mine too.”

Maybe not so much a traitor, my youngest brother. I liked the thought of Takkan spending his mornings here, reading under the trees or painting or just thinking…about me.

“When did you get back?” he asked.

“Dawn. But I’ve only been in the palace a few hours. Word didn’t spread to the Hornet’s Nest?”

Takkan raised an eyebrow at the name, but he didn’t question it. “We’ve been in meetings all day.”

“Then you ought to thank me for saving you,” I said cheekily. “Wouldn’t you rather be here with me than with all those stuffy old ministers?”

“I am stuffy. And older than you.”

“Only by a year.” I grinned at the face he made. “Still miss the sound of me?”

Takkan traced the dimple that had appeared on my left cheek. “Always.”

Just like that, my entire face warmed. I became acutely aware of how close we were—side by side, elbows brushing—and how impulsive it had been of me to lead him alone into the gardens. I hadn’t meant for this to be a tryst, but no one else would know that.

The gossip would be lurid if we were found out. Not that I cared.

For an entire winter, I had lived in Takkan’s home, Castle Bushian. Thanks to Raikama’s curse, my face was hidden under an enchanted wooden bowl and I hadn’t been able to speak. Yet even then, Takkan and I had grown to care for each other.

It had taken me far too long to realize I loved him, and I could count on one hand the number of times we’d been so close and alone. We’d never even kissed before.

I wished I had the courage to give him that kiss. Just reaching out my hand to touch the ends of his hair made my heart thump riotously. Still, I didn’t draw back. More than a few black strands were out of place, thanks to our sprint, and as I tucked them behind his ear, I let my fingers linger.

He’d gained some color from Gindara’s blazing summers, and in my head, I traced the outline of his features—the straight, sloping nose, the tapered jaw and tiny divot in his chin, the most honest eyes I knew.

Gods, I’d missed him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

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