Page 10

The young ifrit whirled around, her eyes widening in recognition and fear. In an instant, she positioned herself between her companion and us, her stance protective.

“Princess Talia,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “What are you doing here?”

The human looked confused, his gaze darting between Leona and us. “Lee? Who are these people?”

“Aaron,” Leona said, not taking her eyes off us, “they are... from home.”

Understanding dawned on his face. Worry, anger, and fear rushed in soon after. He threw a quick glance toward the door we blocked and the emergency exit a few aisles over, and reached for Leona’s hand.

I raised my hands, palms out. “We just want to talk. We’re not here to hurt you.”

Leona’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here? Did my cousin send you?”

Beside me, I felt Talia go rigid.

“Your cousin?” she asked, her tone suddenly sharp.

“Emil,” Leona confirmed, her chin lifting slightly. “He said he would help us.”

Emil Malum. The name clicked into place as a noble with distant royal blood. I’d heard of him through security briefings, but never paid much attention to court personalities beyond assessing potential threats.

I glanced at my mate, watching as her face transformed. The haughty princess vanished, replaced by a warm, concerned friend I’d never seen before.

“Emil sent us,” Talia said, her voice gentle and reassuring. “We’re here to help.”

I nearly choked on my own tongue. The lie rolled off her lips so smoothly that for a moment, I questioned my own reality.

Leona’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though wariness still clouded her eyes. “He said he would arrange safe passage.”

“And he has,” Talia continued, moving closer with a conspirator’s smile. “We’re to take your place here while you move to the next location. Make sure no one follows your trail.”

The human—Aaron—finally spoke up. “And where, exactly, is that?”

Talia turned to me, considering for a moment. “London?” she asked, as if confirming a plan we’d discussed at length.

I had no fucking idea what she was doing, but I nodded and forced confidence into my voice. “London will be perfect.”

Talia beamed at me before turning to nod at the shadow behind her. “Griffin, will you get the penthouse open?”

The male nodded, and vanished in a cloud of red smoke.

Leona’s tail swished nervously behind her. “Why would you help us? You’re the crown princess.”

“And you’re in love,” Talia said simply, as if that explained everything. She softened with a small sigh and smile. “If I wanted to drag you back to court, I would have done so already. But I understand wanting to choose your own path. Your own mate, perhaps?”

The words hit far, far too close to home.

Talia draped an arm over Leona’s shoulders and eased her toward the door before anyone voiced another objection. “Now, you booked a room somewhere close, yes? Let’s get your things packed. Griffin will accompany you once he’s returned.”

An hour later, we’d moved into the B&B room Leona and Aaron had vacated.

Griffin had teleported the couple to Talia’s London penthouse, promising to return by morning.

The room was small but comfortable, with a queen-sized bed dominating the space.

I tried not to think about sharing it with Talia later.

“I’m surprised you let them go,” I said, watching her as she explored the room, running her fingers along the dresser and peering out the window as twilight settled over the town.

The proud tilt of her chin, the fire in her eyes, the full lips that had been pressed against mine just hours ago.

She was infuriating and brilliant and beautiful, and despite everything, I wanted her.

“Are you?” she asked, not looking at me. “I would have thought you’d be pleased. Isn’t this what you wanted? To avoid dragging an unwilling female back to a fate she didn’t choose?”

I moved to the well-stocked minibar the lovebirds had left behind and poured us glasses of whiskey from tiny bottles. “Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be the one to suggest it.”

“I did it for more than sentiment for the happy couple.” She turned to face me, fingers drumming against the windowsill. “Emil is playing some game here, and I want to know what he’s planning.”

I studied her face, trying to read beyond the mask she wore so effortlessly. “And the quickest way to find out is to step into his plan.”

“You might not be hopeless at ruling after all.” She smiled, a small, genuine thing that made her shine. “Though I’ll admit, I prefer when kindness isn’t wrapped in politics. But I will take that kindness wherever I can find it.”

The admission caught me off guard. This small crack in her perfect facade, this glimpse of the woman beneath the crown…

I liked it. Too much.

“And in the meantime, two young lovers get their happily ever after.” I offered her a glass of whiskey, which she accepted with a nod of thanks. Our fingers brushed, the contact lingering a heartbeat too long.

Her eyes met mine, and for once, they weren’t calculating or guarded. They were simply... seeing me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “For what Javed did to you.”

I stiffened, the glass halfway to my lips. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve noticed your reactions,” she continued, her eyes dropping to where my free hand had clenched into a fist at the mere mention of Javed’s name. “The way you tense when someone mentions control or compulsion. What he did with those relics...”

The glass nearly shattered in my grip.

“I don’t want your pity,” I growled, retreating across the room to stare out the window.

“It isn’t pity, Kaz.” Her voice followed me, quiet but firm. “It’s understanding. If this mating is to work, we need that between us. We’ve both survived him.”

I kept my back to her, watching the tourists below laugh and stroll without a care in the world. Normal people living normal lives. No royal bullshit, no arranged marriages, no scheming.

“Understanding,” I repeated, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

In the reflection of the glass, I could see her waiting.

The princess who’d tracked me across countries with ruthless determination.

The same woman who’d lied without hesitation to Leona, slipping into Emil’s scheme to further her own goals.

The female who’d shown me a small kindness when the memories threatened to drown me.

And beneath it all, the sister of the man I’d killed.

I took a long swallow of whiskey, letting it burn down my throat. “We need to figure out what Emil is up to.”

Talia sighed, but didn’t push back on the change of subject. She moved to pour herself another tiny bottle of whiskey and took a graceful seat on the edge of the bed. “We confront him directly. We go to the lake house under the guise of traveling with Leona, and make him tell us what he’s after.”

I snorted. “Just walk up and ask? That’s your grand strategy?”

“Sometimes the direct approach catches people off guard.” She sipped her drink, watching me over the rim of her glass. “Emil expects elaborate schemes and political maneuvering. He won’t be prepared for bluntness.”

“And if he refuses to talk?” I raised an eyebrow.

Her smile turned sharp. “Everyone has a pressure point, Kaz. Emil is ambitious. He wants something badly enough to risk moving against the crown. We just need to identify what it is, and leverage it.”

“And if what he wants is the throne itself?”

Talia’s eyes gleamed in the fading light. “Then he’ll have to go through both of us to get it.”

The casual threat from those perfect lips sent heat straight through me. Not a princess claiming her birthright, but a warrior marking our shared territory. Understanding, she’d called it earlier, but this was something deeper. This was Talia choosing to stand with me, not just endure me.

Like this was real. Like we were... partners.

Mates.

“You know,” I said, moving closer, “for someone raised to be the perfect princess, you have a surprisingly vicious streak.”

“For someone raised to be a mercenary,” she countered, not backing away, “you have a surprisingly soft heart.”

“I wouldn’t call it soft,” I growled.

“No?” Her tail brushed against mine. “What would you call it, then?”

“Selective judgment.” I plucked her glass from her hands and set it on the nightstand with my own. “I choose my battles carefully.”

“And am I a battle worth fighting?” she asked, leaning back on her hands to keep our eyes locked.

I moved closer, tracing my thumb along the curve of her jaw. Her skin was impossibly soft beneath my calloused fingers. “Oh, I’m certain you’ll make me wage wars for your heart.”

She laughed, the sound sending a shiver down my spine as her cheek pressed into my palm. “At least you’re honest.”

“I try,” I promised. “Even when it’s inconvenient.”

“Like now?” Her breath ghosted across my thumb. “When you’re thinking about kissing me again?”

Fuck it.