Page 12

I hum to myself as I make my way through to my private sitting room. It's still new to me to have a place like this that's all to my own, especially as the servants don't come in without asking, but I like it. And it is certainly one of the many advantages of moving to Falhaven.

The window rattles and I look over in time to see Felicia squeezing herself through the gap.

"Where have you been?" I ask my cat. "You're a castle-cat, not an outdoor-cat."

She gives me a look that says she's not impressed by my choice of address and continues to do a lap of the room, checking for anything of interest, though I'm not sure precisely what that might be.

I ignore her, knowing that it's best for me to wait for her to come to me when she wants fuss, and go to sit at my desk and write to Mamá instead. A streak of black and grey fur is the only thing I see as she jumps onto my desk, knocking over one of my ink pots as she does.

"Felicia!" I grab it, trying to stop the spread of the ink before I waste a lot of the paper.

She doesn't care at all and starts to walk across the desk, leaving a trail of ink footprints behind her.

"Oh, no, you don't." I scoop her up and grab a cloth so I can wipe off her feet. "How many times do I have to tell you not to walk over things when I'm planning on writing?"

"Meow."

"I thought as much." I place her on the cat tower, much to her indignation, but she seems to like several of the cushions that Arthur put there.

I return to my desk and pull my chair closer, getting ready to write to Mamá.

I pause with my pen over the page, not entirely sure what I want to write. I know Mama wants to hear about how I'm settling in at Falhaven Castle, but all I can think about are the things she shouldn't be told about. Like the way it had felt to have Arthur's hands on my skin last night.

I shake my thoughts aside and focus on the letter I'm supposed to be writing. There are lots of things I can tell Mamá about my time in Falhaven that don't involve any impropriety on my part. I can tell her about my visit to the Winter Fair, and getting to know Arthur's sisters.

Except that no matter what I start to write about, I find my mind drifting back to last night.

Warmth fills me at the memories, and without even fully realising what I'm doing, I reach for a second sheet of paper and put Arthur's name at the top of it.

Something about writing his name like that opens the floodgates within me, and I start writing him a letter, describing all of the things we did last night in a surprising amount of detail.

A feeling I now recognise settles inside me, growing stronger as my words stray from memory into fantasy.

I find myself describing what it might feel like to feel his hand smooth under my skirt, his lips following the same path, and perhaps finding another spot, somewhere that could make me fall apart.

I swallow hard, my skin flushed and my thoughts racing. I'm not entirely sure what's possessing me to write all of this. The only thing I know is that I want it. I want him .

Something I need to figure out how to tell him that without him thinking that I'm wanton and not like the proper princess I should be. Except, he's not going to think that. I'm not the only one who lost control. He was with me yesterday, and he clearly feels some of the same needs I do.

I lean back in my seat, contemplating what I'm supposed to do now. There's been a feverish rush of words, and it's hard to distinguish some of them. And while it feels good to have put them to the page, I can feel the need inside me glowing hot and unanswered. I never thought I could feel this way.

A knock sounds on the door to my sitting room. I quickly cover the page with another, not wanting to risk anyone seeing it, not when I don't know how they'd react to what's written there. In reality, there's only one person I would even consider sharing them with.

"One moment," I call out, assuming it isn't one of the servants from the fact that they haven't just come inside. I get to my feet and smooth out my dress, almost as if I expect it to be wrinkled from the tryst I've written about, when in reality, they're completely untouched.

I head over to the door and pull it open, revealing the object of my desires standing in front of me.

"Good morning," he says, his voice welcoming in all the right ways.

I gesture for him to step inside. "I was writing to my mother," I say.

"Oh, then I shouldn't interrupt," Artie says.

"You can," I respond. "It wasn't going very well, about the only thing I've managed to write is a request for her to send me more lemon drops now I've run out." I bite my bottom lip without meaning to, drawing his attention to it.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe I can read what you put..."

"Oh, erm..."

"Sola? Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine," I promise. "It's just...I was trying to write to my mother, but then I started writing about last night."

He raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure that's the kind of thing the Queen of Someil would like to hear about."

"No, I don't think she would." Feeling bold, and knowing that he won't think badly of me for it, I return to my desk and get the letter, holding it out to him.

"Are you sure?" he asks before he takes it.

"Yes. I think. If you hate it, don't tell me."

"I've loved all of your writing," he says softly. "I doubt this will be any different."

"Perhaps not." Or perhaps he'll decide that he can't marry someone with thoughts like that.

I watch as he reads, his expressions revealing a lot and a little all at the same time. After what feels like an age, he clears his throat. "We didn't do some of this."

"We didn't," I respond slowly. "I suppose I was just thinking, and then I started writing. It's not the first time we've written something that we wanted to do together."

"Is that so?" His lips quirk up. "I didn't realise you thought about this kind of thing."

"I'm sheltered, not naive," I point out.

"Well, I'm sure we can arrange it." He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair out of my face, his dark blue eyes boring into me as he studies me intently.

I lean in, putting a hand against his chest even as he closes the gap and captures my lips with his. The kiss is deep and full of barely restrained need. As is something else that I'm now very aware of.

"Arthur," I murmur.

"Mmm?"

"We should..." I gesture towards my bedchamber. It's the middle of the day, but I don't think anyone is going to be looking for us. This is the perfect opportunity to spend some more time with him and to work out some more of my curiosity.

He searches my face, and must see what he's looking for, because he nods and takes a step back so that we can do that.

The door creaks open before we're able to move much further, and I close my eyes, letting out a groan. Given that I'm in my private sitting room, there's only one person who can come in.

"Solana..." My aunt stops in her tracks and looks between the two of us.

"Lady Aunt," I respond, with a curtsy. "Prince Arthur was just coming to tell me about this evening's banquet."

"Prince Arthur should not be here," she says in Someilian. "Your mother would be horrified to learn you're alone with him."

To Artie's credit, he keeps a remarkably straight face while she speaks and doesn't betray any of what we were talking about.

"It's his castle, Lady Aunt," I respond, switching to Falhavien.

"And you are still unmarried," she reminds me.

Arthur bows to my aunt. "I'm just leaving, Duquesa. I was too excited to tell Princess Solana about the Solstice banquet tonight, and didn't realise she would be unchaperoned."

"Hmm." She doesn't look convinced.

"I should return this to you," he says to me, holding out the letter.

I clear my throat. "You should keep it."

He raises an eyebrow. "If that's what you'd like."

"It's for you," I say firmly.

He folds it into a square and slips it into his breast pocket. "I shall keep it safe with the others."

"The others?"

"Yes, the other letters you've sent to me over the years."

"You kept them?"

"Of course." The way he smiles at me makes my heart flutter.

"So did I." My gaze slips to the box containing his letters and his portrait.

The expression on his face is easy to read. If we were alone, I believe he would kiss me. But with my aunt in the room, that isn't possible at all. Instead, he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss there.

It's surprisingly intimate and makes something spring to life within me. No doubt it's the reminder of how his lips feel when they're on other parts of my body. His gaze meets mine, and the thoughts only intensify, before I remind myself that we have an audience.

"I look forward to seeing you later," he says.

"I do too." I'm unable to take my gaze away from him as he leaves the room.

"They are entirely too bold in Falhaven," my aunt mumbles.

"Bold how?" I ask, stumbling a little over switching back to Someilian for speaking. It's strange how comfortable using Falhavien has already become.

"He should not have been in your room alone," she points out.

"He will be my husband next week," I remind her. "It hardly feels as if it's much of a problem for us to be spending time with one another. Is it not a good thing for us to get to know one another?"

She huffs. "It is a strange kingdom. They do not care for what is proper, and Prince Arthur is not the Crown Prince."

"His sister is in line to inherit the throne," I point out. "With two other sisters in line between the two of them."

"As I said, a strange kingdom. Their girls can inherit over the boys."

"It isn't strange just because it's not the way we do things in Someil," I respond. "I quite like it this way.” Especially as it means I'll have more freedom married to the current fourth in line, rather than the first. It sounds like it could be exhausting.

"I still do not understand it here."

I take a deep breath. "I suppose it's not for us to decide what is right or wrong here," I say.

"My parents want this marriage, as do the King and Queen of Falhaven.

That means that we have to abide by their customs." I don't add that I like that, or that I think that the way Falhaven is approaching things is likely better than back home.

I don't think she wants to hear it, especially when she seems annoyed about Arthur coming here.

"I suppose that is true," my aunt says.

"I was writing to Mamá," I say, gesturing to my desk and feeling grateful that I decided to give Arthur the letter. I doubt my aunt would approve of the contents at all. "Would you like to send something with me?"

"I will likely be back on Someilian soil before the letter arrives," she says. "I should have a rest before the banquet tonight, I don't wish to be tired."

I nod, a little frustrated that she hadn't done that before, interrupting the two of us.

If she'd done that, then we could be in my bedchamber now and I'd have some answers to questions spinning around my mind.

But there's nothing I can do about that.

I suppose the fact that Arthur now has what I wrote and knows what I'm thinking about can still be taken as a good outcome for today, but the truth of that remains to be seen.