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Ortryingto, at least. Talasyn poked her head out from behind a row of shelves, and the sight of her sent a surge of warmth through him.

Alaric went over to her, shrugging off the summons. His father could wait. Everything else could wait.

It seemed that Jie had been successful in taking sponge and soap to her mistress. Talasyn’s complexion was still rosy from the heated bathwater, which Alaric realized as he drew near had been scented with the candied-lemon tang of elemi oil. She wore a dress of opalescent lavender and silver brocade, with geometric cutouts that exposed the willowy curves of her torso, tantalizing stretches of olive skin that he longed to dig his fingers into as soon as possible.

The neckline was revealing as well, dipping almost to her navel, and Alaric promptly cast all his previous grievances withthat accursed tailor aside and thanked the benevolent universe for the gift of Nenavarene fashion.

“Finished with your work?” Talasyn inquired, returning the book she’d been reading to its shelf.

Alaric nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He stepped closer and something gleamed in her lovely brown eyes—his own heightening anticipation, reflected back at him in the twilight.

“What about you?” His voice came out too low for such harmless small talk, and talking was indeed the absolutelastthing he wanted to be doing right now, but the sense of propriety that had been drilled into him from an early age insisted that one did not simply attack one’s spouse in a library.

“The Lachis’ka’s work is never done,” she dryly replied. “Particularly when the first floor still smells like sewage.”

“I don’t understand why your ancestors built a castle in a flood-prone area.”

“It’s a summerhouse, so of course it has to be by the beach.”

“Madness.” He took another step toward her. She tilted her chin upward, pink lips shaped to receive his kiss.

It was a sudden spark of mischief that prompted Alaric to go straight for Talasyn’s neck instead. When he nipped at the sensitive spot below her ear, she laughed in both surprise and delight, and the sweet, unexpectedly sultry sound made him smile as he worked his way down. He longed to use his teeth but he doubted she would appreciate that. Unlike the high collar of his tunic, which hid the marks she’d inflicted on him yesterday, her dress left little room for subterfuge.

Her breathing grew unsteady as he lavished the valley between her breasts with feather-light kisses, his hands tightening around her waist. The air had become very warm, and the fragrance of promise jasmines wafting from Talasyn’s chestnuthair drowned out the scents of ink and parchment and old wood.

Alaric became faintly aware of a faraway noise, like a creak, as though the door was being pushed open, but it failed to penetrate the desire clouding his senses. His mind, whittled down to nothing but the basest of instincts, instantly dismissed the sound as unworthy of concern while he kissed his way to the freckles atop his wife’s left breast.

A throat was cleared. Loudly.

They froze as their eyes whipped to the library entrance. Prince Elagbi was standing there, arms crossed, a thunderous expression on his face.

Alaric Ossinast, the Night Emperor of Kesath, saw his life flash before his eyes.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Talasyn had always prided herself on being a capable individual. Her quick thinking and resourcefulness had saved her life countless times during the Hurricane Wars. There had never been an emergency that she hadn’t dealt with using her wits, her gumption, and her ability to adapt to a rapid change in circumstance.

But she was drawing a blank on how to handlethis—being caught in the act, or the prelude to the act, anyway, all wrapped up in her husband’s arms with his mouth hovering at her chest while herfatherpostured in the doorway, features contorted in wrath.

How long had Elagbi been standing there? How much had he seen?

Alaric and Talasyn sprang apart to put a good several inches between them, placing their hands at their sides to very emphatically show that they werenottouching. After what felt like an eternity, Elagbi relaxed. He offered the imperial couple an elaborate, courtly bow before walking over to them.

“Dearest,” he said to Talasyn, holding out his arm, “rumor has it that you had a bit of an adventure during the storm.I had to set sail from Eskaya as soon as the skies permitted to make sure that you were all right.”

“The flood earlier todaywasharrowing,” Talasyn joked weakly, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “All those beautiful carpets are a loss, I’m afraid.”

Elagbi tutted. “That’s not what I meant, and you are well aware. Gallivanting off to Chal while a northwester blows in—I never! But no harm done in the end, I suppose. Shall we proceed to supper?”

“Um …” Talasyn glanced at Alaric, whose eyes were as wide as the plates they were going to be eating off of. “Certainly?”

Alaric remained where he was, rooted to the spot, as Elagbi escorted Talasyn out of the library, but this changed when the Dominion prince called out in a booming voice, “After all, there is no reason that the three of us can’t enjoy a nice meal,” which sent the Night Emperor trailing after them.

Elagbi maintained a neutral, amiable expression on the way to the small dining room on the second level—the one on the first level being out of commission as it dried out. Jie and Sevraim were already waiting for them.

Then the most awkward meal in the history of Lir began.

“We had no idea where you and His Majesty had gone off to, Lachis’ka,” Jie piped up. “I’m glad that Prince Elagbi found you without incident.”