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Lachlan was sure it had been anything but.

“And a lit candle to celebrate today,” Tarley explained. “The candle represents a celebration of this new year—your present—added to your old life.”

He looked at the candle flickering.

“Give a blessing,” she said and handed him the plate. “By giving it away, you are offering a blessing to someone else’s year in hopes of bringing a blessing to your new year.”

As Lachlan took the plate, his hand brushed Tarley’s. The spark traveled up his arm and landed in the middle of his back. “What if I want to give it to each of you?” he asked.

Tarley smiled, “You will. We’ll all share the cake.”

He turned and handed the plate to Credence. “Do I have to say anything?”

Credence smiled. “Blessings upon blessings,” she said, and Lachlan recited it. “Thank you, Ollie.”

“Thank you,” he said and turned back to Tarley, who opened her mouth, then closed it before turning and facing the cake.

“Do the rest!” Trevis said. “You can’t skip the last part.”

Tarley took a deep breath but kept her eyes on the cake. “Offer a kiss to seal the wish made on this birthday.” Her eyes slid to his. “Now, you make a wish for your future, and offer someone a kiss.”

Lachlan swallowed, wanting more than anything to kiss Tarley. “The past, the present, and the future?”

Tarley nodded.

He made a wish for his future—that he could be the king Jast needed him to be and that Tarley would want him—but instead of kissing Tarley like he wanted, he kissed Mrs. Barnwell’s cheek. Shetskedwith pleasure, blushed, then smacked his arm, saying something about Mr. Barnwell being jealous.

When Lachlan returned to his place, he looked for Tarley, but she’d moved to the opposite side of the room, standing just slightly behind Genevieve. She glanced at him, then looked away.

After the cake was cut and distributed, they all wished him another united ‘happy birthday’, then stood around the worktable shoulder-to-shoulder, eating the dessert, laughing, and sharing stories of birthdays.

Lachlan had been to many birthdays, but in all his years, he’d never experienced one that gave him greater enjoyment, knowing these gifts were offered at great expense to people giving them. It gave him pause, to consider that in his privileged life, this here, with these people, with—his eyes slid to Tarley across the table, her head bent to listen to Trevis—Tarley, filled his chest with emotions he wasn’t sure how to process.

As the celebration wound down, Tarley plated another slice. “I’m going to give Rose a piece.”

His impulse was to grab Tarley, to drag her to the back stairwell where he’d show his thanks. He wanted to touch her, give her pleasure, in the same way that his heart was pulsing with it. But he suppressed the impulse. The feeling moving through him was too big. For her, especially. Hell, it was too big for him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

So he watched Tarley disappear up the stairs, letting her go and afraid it was all he was ever going to get to do.

23

“Come in,” Queen Keyanna called from inside the room.

Tarley found the queen standing at the windows. “I brought you some of Lachlan’s sweetcake.”

The queen, looking slight in hand-me-downs much too large for her, turned toward Tarley. “His birthday?”

Tarley nodded, setting the cake down on the table where the queen had been taking her meals. She could imagine the queen was feeling cooped up. She would.

“And the sweetcake ceremony?” the queen asked. “I’m not sure Jast has one.”

Tarley smiled and pressed her hands to her skirt. “Of course, your Maj–”

The queen held up a hand. “Rose.” She lifted her skirts and drifted across the room to the table. “Who did he kiss?” Her dark eyes met Tarley’s filled with a mischievous glint.

Tarley often had the impression that the queen was ageless while being an ancient soul simultaneously. But at that moment, Tarley realized Keyanna couldn’t be much older than her sister Jessamine—twenty-nine—give or take a year or so. Under different circumstances, perhaps they might have even been friends. “Mrs. Barnwell.”

“The cook?”