Page 90 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

I smile, shaking my head. “No.”

“It’s the safest room in my suite,” he points out. “The only way someone can get to you is through me.”

I walk in, surveying the space. It’s lovely, with roses stitched onto the coverlet and gossamer curtains covering the windows. It’s a dainty room, a pink room.

“For a man who claims to be indifferent to the flower, you’re certainly surrounded by them,” I say.

“This was my mother’s room once,” Brahm answers carefully. “When she and my father were first married. Before her eldest sister died and she became queen.”

“I thought you said your mother hates roses?”

“She hates them now, but there was a time she adored them. They represented Father and the woods where he lived. It’s hard to believe, but they were happy in the beginning.”

“Wait.” I turn toward Brahm. “Before her sister died and she became queen?”

“Mother was second in line to the throne. Winnalynn was in front of her. She died before having children, and the crown passed to our family.”

“Did your mother kill her?” I ask bluntly.

Brahm is quiet for several seconds. “I don’t know.”

Now that I’m aware this was the queen’s personal room, I don’t know how comfortable I’ll be sleeping here. Maybe I should brave the real roses.

“We leave tomorrow morning?” I ask, deciding I can manage one night.

“That’s right.” Brahm walks back into his room, leaving the door open.

I follow him partway, hovering between the rooms.

“We need to prepare for dinner,” he says. “Mother gets fussy if people are late.”

I watch as he loosens his cravat. “You make her sound like a toddler.”

He raises his eyebrows as if finding that idea humorous. Walking to the armoire, he unbuttons his waistcoat and then tosses it aside.

“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.

Next goes his shirt.

“I already said—I’m preparing for dinner.”

I gape at Brahm rather shamelessly, letting my eyes rove over his broad, muscled shoulders and strong back, and it strikes me again that he’s not a slender and slight man as I’d assumed most Faeries to be. He’s built like a warrior.

My mind wanders a little further, to the night he came to me covered in blood. I touched him, ran my hands over his skin. At the time, I was able to put these thoughts aside and focus on my task, but now…

I should probably retreat into my room, but I’m having trouble convincing my feet to take me away.

Brahm turns back, holding a black doublet. I avert my eyes, pretending I wasn’t admiring him.

He pauses, making me think I wasn’t stealthy enough.

I turn quickly, ready to hide in my room and pretend I don’t still want him as badly as I do.

A strange tug at my wrist catches me off guard, and I turn back, questioning it. When I glance down, I realize the tether is once again visible.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, my voice hitching.

Brahm looks as conflicted as I am.