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His wicked eyes lift, and his breath steams out between his lips. Hisice-coldlips. Which he pursed before sucking my flesh into his hot mouth.

The noises that escape me are a strange mix between squeals and screams as my feet patter on the floor, and I’m catapulted over the edge into a maelstrom of bliss so strong my vision whites out. His hot breath gusts out around his icy lips as he moans my name. Heat sweeps through me. Blind with rapture, I wrap myself around him as tightly as I can.

I’m left breathless. Boneless. Mindless.

Slumped backward, it’s only Sterling’s arms that keep me from falling to the floor.

“I take it you liked that?” Sterling jostles me, pulling me upright before I collapse forward onto his chest.

“You…” I slap his chest a few times as I struggle to push myself upright again and force a glare. “You used my own trick against me. Channeling your magic into your flesh.”

He has the audacity to chuckle as he catches my arms so I can sit up. “I’m not so arrogant I won’t try to learn something new just because someone else thought of it before me.” His lips, still chilled, capture mine, sending shivers through my body. “You’re not cold, are you?”

Struggling to get my mind working again, I pull my fire to the surface of my skin, bathing it over him. “I know a good way to warm things back up.”

He sighs and twitches. “And that would be?”

“I’d rather show you than tell you.” I lean forward and focus, trailing a nearly burning hot tongue over the edge of his ear.

His arms go slack as he relaxes.

Spurred by a surge of fresh energy, I haul myself up, then off his lap. Grabbing my nightgown, I saunter toward his bedroom while plotting how to use this new magic touch against him. “I think I might be getting the hang of this.” I peer over my shoulder to stick my tongue out at him. “Care to join me and test this out?”

Sterling is behind me before I even make it through the door, and I know neither of us will get much sleep tonight.

ChapterThirteen

“Lady Lark, I’m sorry to wake you, but Crown Prince Knox has requested your immediate attendance at the transition ceremony in the throne room.”

Rhiann’s voice breaks through the pleasant dreams I’m having, and I pull the blanket over my head to drown out the sounds. Reaching out an arm, I find Sterling’s side of the bed cold and empty.

Oh gods above and below. I’m in Sterling’s room. And Rhiann caught me!

Hot embarrassment flares across my cheeks as I clutch the sheets to my head, wanting to burrow so deep I’ll never be discovered. So much for sneaking around.

Wait.I peek out from under the covers and find her standing at the edge of Sterling’s bedchamber, near the open door to the private sitting room. “What did you say, Rhiann?”

Her gaze doesn’t waver, and her expression betrays nothing but decorum.

Strained lines carve around her eyes—subtle hints of concern. “Crown Prince Knox is entertaining unexpected guests in the throne room. Several nobles showed up with their families today. And he has requested your help in dealing with them.”

“Unexpected guests?” I narrow my eyes, sitting up in bed. Rhiann never gossips, never shares gossip, and never seeks it out. It’s clear from the stiff way she’s holding her shoulders that something troubles her. And it’s not my nudity. “Knox needs me?”

“Indeed, he requests your presence.” The corner of her eye twitches ever so slightly.

Pushing the blankets aside, I climb out of bed. Today, I’d planned to follow Sterling’s orders to train and research, maybe even sneak in a visit to the dragons. But those things will have to wait.

Nodding, I will myself not to blush at what I’m about to admit. “I’ll need to go back to my rooms to get dressed.”

At the clap of the Lady of the Bedchamber’s hands, a middle-aged maid I’ve seen in passing, dressed similarly to Rhiann with a long white apron over a sensible yet fashionable gown, enters the room. She’s a classic beauty—smooth dark skin, high cheekbones, shiny black hair pulled up in an elegant twist—and there’s not a hint of reproach or judgment in her kind brown eyes.

Even though it’s been more than a week since Jasper’s death, it still feels odd not having to sneak around to spend time with Sterling.

The maid presents a dress, laid out along her arms to display its full glory.

While the style is simple enough to be worn during the day, and the white color is appropriate for the transition ceremony, the cloth shimmers when it catches the light. Stepping forward, I run a gentle hand over the silky material. The fabric is as smooth as glass, the weave so fine that I can’t detect a single thread.

“Finest hand spun silk.” Rhiann dips her head. “The belt is woven gold. It will match perfectly with your wings.”