Page 79 of Gilded

“You just compared me to black-hearted demons. Don’t tell me that was a compliment.”

He laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The gold flecks in his eyes glittered in the candlelight, and when next he spoke, it was so quiet that Serilda barely heard him, even right at his side. “This is … very new to me.”

She wanted to say that this was very new to her, too, but she wasn’t entirely sure whatthiswas.

Only that she didn’t want it to end.

She gathered her courage, wanting to say as much, when the candle began to splutter.

They both looked at it, desperate for it to not go out. For the night to not be over. But the flame was hovering precariously on the last tiny bit of wick, moments from being doused in the dark wax.

As it flickered again, they heard footsteps.

A key in the lock.

“Serilda.”

She looked at Gild, wide-eyed, and nodded. “I’m satisfied. Go.”

He looked, for the barest of moments, like he didn’t know what she was talking about. Then his expression cleared.

“I’m not,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Please forgive me this.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Serilda gasped against him.

She did not have time to shut her eyes, to even think about kissing him back, when the key turned. The lock clanked.

Gild vanished.

She was left trembling, her insides like an entire flock of sparrows taking flight. The candle went out. Its light was almost immediately replaced with the torches from the corridor as the door was thrust open and the Erlking’s shadow fell over her.

Serilda blinked up at him, but for a long moment, she couldn’t really see him. Her thoughts lingered on Gild. The urgency of the kiss. The desire. As if he feared it might be his only chance. To kiss her. To kiss … anyone.

And now he was gone.

It took all her mental strength not to reach up and touch her lips. Not to slip away into a daydream, reliving that tremulous moment again and again.

Luckily, the king had eyes only for the gold. He ignored her as he sauntered into the room and eyed the stacks of bobbins.

“I would ask that you keep any fits of displeasure to yourself,?” he said serenely, as his fingers grabbed one spoke of the spinning wheel and gave it a quick turn. “This spinning wheel is original to the castle. I would hate to see it broken.”

Serilda glanced over at him. She’d completely forgotten that the spinning wheel had fallen onto its side.

Gulping, she pushed herself up to standing, making sure to lock out her legs so that her knees did not quake. “Forgive me. I … think I fell asleep. I must have kicked it over. I meant no harm.”

He smiled slightly as he turned to her. “Congratulations, Lady Serilda. I will not be gutting you this morning after all.”

It took a moment for his comment to register in her flustered mind. When it did, she responded dryly, “You have my gratitude.”

“And you have mine.”

She couldn’t tell if he was ignoring her ire, or willfully oblivious to it.