Page 39

Six and a Half Years Ago

B RIONY NEVER HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING IN E VERMORE . The breezes seemed to sing to her on hot nights, and she never underestimated the benefits of a cool bath instead of a warm one.

But in Bomard, the chill at night turned to pins and needles in her legs.

She thought perhaps she was having a growth spurt, like all the boys had, but the nurse had said that at eighteen, she should be done.

She’d sent her off with an elixir for relaxing at night, but it was now the third time this week that Briony had rolled out of bed, tugged on a thick robe, and gone for a walk after midnight.

And it was the second time she’d run into Toven and Larissa fooling around in the hallways.

Briony stopped dead as she turned the corner, the itching sensation in her legs giving way to a weighted feeling, like prey ready to run.

When she’d found them three days ago in a similar state of passion, Toven had been crowding Larissa against the stone wall near the staircase, his long body pressed to hers and his thigh shifting forward to press between her knees, drawing moans from her throat.

That time, Briony had quietly backed away and run back to her shared suite with Rory, throwing the covers over her blushing skin and just waiting for the pins in her legs to cease.

But now Larissa was seated on the ledge of the window, her legs twined around Toven’s hips and her head tilted back, exposing her neck to his ravenous mouth.

He had an arm snugly wrapped around her waist; otherwise, Briony thought, she might fall back and out the window.

And his other hand had slipped below the fabric of her skirts.

Briony was frozen still as the muscles in Toven’s back moved under his thin shirt, and for some reason, her first thought was— why aren’t they cold?

Larissa’s lips parted on a silent sigh.

They had obviously mended things after the state dinner where they’d been playing games, using her as a pawn. It was all but given that they would marry after school ended.

She should sneak away. She should ignore the couple and just go walk the twenty feet between her room and the opposite hall one hundred times until her legs stopped bothering her.

But this was her landing. Hers and Rory’s. And yes, it was clearly a great place for groping someone because it was so isolated up here by the heir’s private suites, but it was her floor.

Briony crossed her arms and cleared her throat.

Nothing happened. Toven’s arm tightened around Larissa’s waist, and she turned his face to kiss him. Briony watched the hungry way his mouth moved over hers, as if Larissa could barely keep up.

She rolled her eyes. “They say across the sea, when the lord and lady become intimate, the entire village is made aware of it. Is that what you’re trying to accomplish here?”

Larissa seemed to slowly come back to the present, her mouth going slack and her eyes fluttering open to glare at Briony. Toven, on the other hand, moved his lips back to her neck, unaffected.

“See something interesting, Princess?” Larissa drawled, pushing Toven back slightly. He took a deep breath with his eyes closed, then twisted to land his gaze on Briony.

“Interesting? Not at all,” Briony responded. “ Grossly brazen is the phrase I would use.”

Larissa opened her mouth to retort, but Toven beat her to it.

“It must be difficult,” he said loftily, “being so wound up that you have to ruin everyone else’s good time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am not … wound up. I simply think you should fondle each other on your own floor.”

His eyes sparkled. “Do you do your own fondling up here? Are you out for a clandestine meeting yourself? Or do you manage that part solo?”

Heat rose in her cheeks. Why were Bomardi so crass?

Before she could snap back, Larissa leaned in to his ear and whispered loudly, “Perhaps her brother does manage it for her.”

“You spend an awful lot of time wondering what my brother and I are up to, Larissa,” Briony said.

“And you seem to care a great deal about our intimacy—”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “I just wish I didn’t have to see it.”

“Perhaps you could learn a thing or two,” Toven whispered.

His eyes glittered on her, black pools of desire that hadn’t faded yet. She saw him shift his arm, and then Larissa gasped. Briony flushed with embarrassment. He was still … working her …

She spun on her heel and all but ran away. “Have a grand evening, you two,” she called.

“Do come back anytime you need to stretch your legs, your grace.” Toven’s voice followed her down the hall.

It wasn’t until she was in bed again, heart racing and fighting the memory of how their mouths came together, how his shoulders flexed, how his hand slid between her thighs—that she realized Toven Hearst knew about her pins and needles without her saying it.

Which would be preposterous.

Because only incredibly advanced mind magicians could read one’s thoughts. Not even Briony had learned the skill yet.

And Toven Hearst was a heart magician.