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M areleau Harvallis ignored the soft flutter inside her chest. It was a traitorous thing, the way her heart refused to recall that Larylis Seralla was no longer her beloved. Still, she had to admit he looked…brilliant. Brave. Standing up to her father and her uncles, coming up with a plan to save his brother.

She pushed the door open a crack wider, then resumed winding her fingers through the braid she’d been nervously plaiting for the last several minutes.

“We shouldn’t be spying,” Lurel whispered from behind her. They were in the drawing room that stood between the library and council room. It was mostly used by servants to stage food and libations during formal events or much larger meetings. This meeting, however, was private. Not even servants were allowed to be present. Neither was Mareleau but she didn’t need her cousin to remind her that. Seven gods, the girl was annoying. Always so prim and proper.

Lurel tugged the sleeve of Mareleau’s gown. “Our fathers wouldn’t want us listening in. It’s men’s business.”

Mareleau clenched her teeth. Men’s business . So far, nothing that she’d heard had seemed particularly masculine. Why were women thought to be too soft for matters of war? Did breasts somehow make her unable to consider death and bloodshed? She had to deal with blood every month, which was more than any of the men in that room could say.

Lurel tried to pull her away again, but Mareleau elbowed the girl before she could. Doing so jostled the door, drawing the peering eyes of Uncle Ulrich. Mareleau darted away from the gap in the door. She held her breath as footsteps slapped across the floor. A second later, the door was shut the rest of the way with an exaggerated slam.

Damn her uncle.

With her view sabotaged, she spied on the remainder of the meeting by pressing her ear to the closed door, but all she could glean were snippets here and there. From what she could understand, it seemed both Selay and Menah were set on war. It was a terrifying prospect, and that was without considering the part about wraiths and mages. Her only experiences with war were secondhand accounts of battles that happened in other kingdoms. She never thought it was something she’d witness in Selay during her lifetime. Up until now, her life had been one of luxury and peace. Politically speaking, that is. Her love life was another issue all in its own.

A vision of Larylis filled her mind, for reasons she’d rather not dwell on.

Once she heard the meeting come to a close, she strode away from the door and sank into one of the chairs in the drawing room. Lurel wrung her hands before her. “Shall I call for tea, Highness?”

“I don’t want tea,” Mareleau said, eyes unfocused. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she felt a slight pang of guilt over Teryn’s fate. He’d gone to Khero for her Heart’s Hunt, after all. She’d wanted to rid herself of her suitors, but she hadn’t expected it to end like this . Adding to that guilt was the fact that part of her wasn’t sorry. She’d gotten what she wanted. For now, at least. If Larylis’ rescue mission failed, she’d never have to worry about her unwanted engagement again.

Was it so terrible that she was considering such a benefit?

The door from the council room opened, sending her sitting upright. She expected Uncle Ulrich to come storming in to see who’d been spying on the meeting, but it wasn’t him.

It was Larylis.

They both froze at the same instant, their eyes locked on one another.

His mouth hung open for several seconds before he found his words. “I…I was just heading for the library.” He gestured toward the door at the other end of the drawing room. Then, backing up a step, he said, “I can use the main door.”

“No,” Mareleau said, keeping her expression neutral as she rose from her chair. “Lurel and I were just leaving anyway.”

He offered her a bow and began to brush past, not giving her a second glance. She glared at him, her chest bubbling with words she’d smothered in the depths of her heart for the last three years. Pursing her lips, she willed herself to say nothing, to follow Lurel out the door and back to her chambers. Larylis was almost at the opposite door when the words flew out of her mouth.

“Why didn’t you ever reply to my letter?”

Larylis froze with his fingers on the door handle. He turned to face her, expression hard. “Why would I have?”

Heat burned her cheeks, her body flooding with every ounce of rage she’d held on to since he’d broken her heart.

Lurel turned a pleading look on her. “Your parents wouldn’t want you talking to him,” she whispered.

“Leave us,” she said through her teeth.

Her cousin’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “I can’t leave you unchaperoned with a man. Your reputation?—”

“My reputation can go to the seven hells.”

“If anyone found out I left you with him, we’d both get in trouble.”

She burned the other girl with a glare. “Then don’t tell anyone.” Lurel was right, of course. Mareleau would never hear the end of it if either of their parents found out. Still, Mareleau hated being told what to do. And her confrontation with Larylis was long overdue. “Shut the door on your way out.”

“But—”

Mareleau raised her voice to a shout. “Out, you simpering fool. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll…I’ll tell your friends about the time you wet your skirts last year.”

She gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson. “It was two years ago and I was sick.”

Mareleau only shrugged.

“You’re…you’re so cruel. I’m only trying to help you.” Without another word of argument, she turned on her heel and fled into the council room, closing the door behind her.

Mareleau shot a withering look at Larylis, but her stomach flipped as she met his stare. He leaned against the other door, arms crossed. His gaze locked on hers, his eyes narrowed to remind her that he didn’t love her anymore. Maybe he never did. She bit her lip, wondering if it had been a grave mistake to speak to him. Did she really want to know why he’d chosen to abandon her?

She wound her fingers through her makeshift braid, desperate to do something with her hands. “Then you admit you at least received my last letter.”

He shrugged. “If you can call it that.”

A stab of pain struck her chest. She’d poured her very soul into that letter. “Then why didn’t you respond? You could have said something .”

“You made it clear you never wanted to hear from me again.”

She blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

He pushed off from the door and began walking toward her, his words dry and rehearsed. “ We cannot see each other anymore. I can’t explain. All you need to know is that I can’t love you. I could never love a bastard .” He paused several feet away from her. “Do you deny you wrote those things?”

She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but she stopped herself. His words echoed through her mind, slamming against ones her heart had never let herself forget. “Why are you taking my words out of context like that?”

He gave her a bewildered look. “What other context was there? You wrote me three lines.”

“I wrote you far more than that,” she said, voice catching on the lump in her throat. She mirrored what he’d done moments ago, walking toward him while she recited her letter, every word punctuated with rage. “ Larylis, Father has said we cannot see each other anymore. I’ve told him how much I love you. I’ve told him that I will have only you. He will not listen. He thinks you’re simply a fancy I’ll grow out of. No matter what I say to try and explain the depths of my feelings, he tells me I could never love a bastard .”

She paused when only a foot of space remained between them. Larylis’ complexion had gone pale, his face slack. She wasn’t sure what his countenance meant but it gave her no small amount of satisfaction.

She continued reciting her letter, her voice quavering with emotion. “ But he’s wrong. I love you. You need to know that. No matter how they try to keep us apart I will always love you. I can’t live without you, and I know you feel the same about me. Let us proceed with our plans without their blessing. Meet me at the Godskeep in Salissera at dawn on the twenty-first. I don’t care if I lose my place as heir. All I need is you. Please come. Please. I’ll be there .”

Mareleau felt cold in the wake of her words. She felt empty, stripped of pride and anger alike. All that was left was truth. Vulnerability. She searched Larylis’ face, aware of the way he trembled, the way his hands curled into tight fists. When it was clear he had nothing to say, she spoke again, doing her best to keep her voice level. “You never came. I waited for you for two days. I was…humiliated. Heartbroken. Mother found me.”

Larylis let out a shaky sigh. They stood so close, Mareleau felt his breath warm her face. She knew she should put space between them, but she couldn’t move. Finally, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t understand. I never received that letter. I received only those three lines.”

She frowned. How was that possible?

“The letter you wrote to Teryn?—”

“I never wrote him a letter.”

Larylis dropped his eyes from hers and ran a hand over his face. “Seven devils,” he said under his breath. “Your letters were forged. Two taken from one, each word copied from truth.”

A chill ran down her spine. She wanted to deny the plausibility, but the facts made it painfully clear. No letter left the palace without someone knowing about it. After she was caught kissing Larylis in the stables three years ago, which resulted in her being forbidden from seeing or even speaking to him, it made sense that her parents would do anything to keep her from embarrassing herself further , as they’d liked to say. She’d thought she’d been discreet when she’d sent the letter, but was it possible she’d overestimated her own cunning?

Larylis slowly met her gaze again. “Everything about that letter, from the slant of your script to the length of your loops looked exactly as if it had been penned by your hand. Teryn showed me the letter he’d received. It looked the same.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Neither letter’s content clued you in to the truth? You couldn’t possibly have believed I’d be so cold to you while being even remotely warm toward your brother.”

“I found out about your engagement to him as soon as I returned home. I figured you’d changed your mind, that you realized he was a better match?—”

“How could you believe such a thing?”

“What else was I to believe? Every word in that letter was true.” His face twisted with agony.

“No—”

“It was. I am a bastard. You…you can’t love me.”

“But I…” She paused, debating what to say. Everything inside her yearned to reach for him, to wipe that look off his face. She didn’t know what would happen if she did. If she let go of three years of hatred, resentment, and indignation…what would be left? He’d broken her heart, unwittingly or not. Then again, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit she’d never fully given up on him. No matter how shattered she’d become, no matter how many thorns had pierced her aching heart and split it into shards, threads had remained, connecting every fragment. She’d ignored them, burned them into rage, but despite her best efforts over the last three years, they’d come back. Every time she’d thought of him, remembered their time together, a thread would return, weaving through the hurt and the betrayal to repair the broken pieces. Now more than ever, those threads were there, growing. Piece by piece by piece, what she’d thought was broken collided back together. Her chest felt warmer than it ever had before. It bloomed into words that she rolled around on her tongue, warm and sweet with only a hint of bitter. She tasted them, tested them, before they breached her lips. “I still do,” she whispered.

Larylis’ throat bobbed. His brow was furrowed, eyes glazed.

She took a trembling step closer and reached a tentative hand for his chest. He inhaled a sharp breath as her fingers landed on his silk jacket. Her own breaths came hard and fast, her breasts heaving above her lace bodice. Part of her dreaded his answer to her next question, but she had to know the truth. Locking her eyes on his, she asked, “Do you? Do you still love me?”

His answer came out low and deep. “I’ve never stopped.”

Her hands came to his collar at the same moment his wound behind her back. She claimed his lips with a greedy kiss, one of fire, desperation, and regret. They’d never kissed like this, like the other’s lips were their only source of air. She arched into him, pulling him closer, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue moved against hers and hers against his. They were in perfect tandem, perfect agreement. One of his hands wove into her hair, sending pins clattering to the ground, while the other cupped the front of her bodice. She gasped against his mouth and reached for his neckcloth, untying it with frantic fingers. Once it was free, she slid her hands down his chest, beneath his jacket. He aided her efforts to free himself from it. Then she began working the buttons of his waistcoat, all the while never taking her lips from his. His palms moved to her shoulders and down the length of each arm, pausing when his hands landed on top of hers. She was still struggling with his buttons when he gave her fingers a soft squeeze. Only then did she realize he was pulling away from her. Her heart sank as her lips left his. She searched his face, saw desire still burning in his eyes. But the longer she watched him, the more his expression began to fall.

With her hands still gathered in his, he removed them from his waistcoat and took a step away. “I can’t do this,” he said, letting her hands slide from his palms. “You’re engaged to my brother.”

She gaped at him for several moments before she could find her voice. It came out breathy, still shallow in the wake of their passion. “I will never marry him.”

“Your engagement is more final now than it was before.”

She shook her head. “No, I will never allow it to be. I was set against it when I thought you despised me. Now that I have your love again, I won’t give it up. I promise you, Lare, I will do everything in my power to end it. To be with you instead. And that’s only if he returns?—”

She knew at once she’d said the wrong thing. All remaining desire drained from Larylis’ face as he took another step away from her.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.

“It is, though, isn’t it?” His voice was cold now. Empty. “That’s why you sent him on some ridiculous quest for the Heart’s Hunt, right?”

A spike of anger surged through her. “You can’t blame me for not wanting to marry him.”

He studied her for a few moments. “You’ve said that before. The evening of the poetry contest. I thought then…I thought it had been because of the scandal. Because of Menah’s debt. All this time…you’ve been cruel to him because of me .”

“I never chose to marry him. Our parents arranged it. But it’s you I want to be with. I’m tired of letting them keep us apart. I was able to bear it these last three years only because I thought you didn’t love me.” She closed the distance between them, reaching for him. “Now that I know the truth, I can’t?—”

“No,” he said, stepping out of her reach. “I…I’m not like my mother. I will not do what she tried to do.”

Mareleau balled her hands into fists. “You stubborn fool! This is nothing like what happened with your mother and father, because Teryn and I aren’t married yet. I’ll be damned before we ever are. Besides, doesn’t it matter what I want? Why has no one asked what I want?”

He looked at her as if seeing her with new eyes. “What do you want?”

The answer was easy. “I want the crown in my own right. I want out of an arranged marriage. And I want you. Larylis, with everything I am, I want you.” She placed her hands on his chest again. “Tell me you don’t want me too.” His heart hammered beneath her palm. She could see his answer written in the depths of his eyes as they flickered to her mouth.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his words gravelly. “I can’t say I don’t want you. So badly I do.”

Mareleau unraveled with relief. Heat spread low in her belly at the timbre of his voice. She tilted her head back, desperate to taste his lips once more.

“But I can’t be with you. I…won’t do that to him.”

Her heart plummeted to her feet as he moved away from her once more. Without another word, he grabbed his discarded jacket and neckcloth off the floor and left.

She wasn’t sure which door he’d used.

Wasn’t sure she’d even watched him depart.

All she knew was she’d give anything to erase the last several minutes they’d shared—that instead of opening her heart, she’d stayed quiet. Angry. Resentful. Any of that would be better than the pain of his rejection renewed.