Page 57 of The Promised Queen

I shake my head once. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Her laugh peals across the courtyard, lighter than the storm. “You sound like an old man.”

I arch a brow. “And you sound like a child who doesn’t know better.”

She flicks her wrist, sending a spray of water in my direction. It doesn’t reach me, but the intent is clear. Mischief dances in her eyes.

“Scared?” she asks, tilting her chin.

“Of what?”

“Of a little rain.”

I should turn back. I should tell her to come inside. But my feet carry me forward anyway, one step, then another, until I’m no longer safe under the arch. The first drop splashes against my cheek, warm and heavy. Then another. And another.

Her smile widens in triumph. “There he is.”

The rain soaks through my shirt almost instantly, plastering it to my skin. It should feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. Not when she’s here, spinning slowly in the courtyard like she belongs to the weather itself.

“You’re absurd,” I tell her, though my voice lacks conviction.

“And you,” she counters, “take yourself too seriously.”

Before I can respond, she scoops water in her palms and tosses it at me. It lands squarely against my chest.

I narrow my eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh?” She takes a step back, feigning innocence. “What will you do, Raja-sa? Scold me?”

Instead, I reach for the nearest puddle, splash back with far less restraint. She squeals, laughter bursting out of her as she shields herself poorly with her arms.

“Unfair!” she gasps between giggles.

“All’s fair,” I reply evenly, “in war.”

Her eyes sparkle. “So this is war?”

The challenge hangs between us. Then she lunges, sending another wave of water my way. I retaliate instantly, and suddenly the dignified courtyard of the palace has turned into a battlefield of splashes and laughter.

Her laughter does something to me. I can feel it tugging at a part of me I usually keep locked, the part that remembers what it’s like to be young, unburdened, uncalculated. My chest aches with it in the best way.

She stumbles at one point, her sandals slipping against the wet stone, and instinct takes over—I grab her wrist, pulling her steady against me. She collides into my chest with a surprised gasp.

The rain falls harder now, drumming against the ground, against us. For a second, neither of us moves. Her hair clings to her face, lashes spiked with droplets, and she looks up at mewith that infuriating mix of defiance and vulnerability that I can never seem to guard myself against.

“You’re soaked,” I murmur, though it’s obvious.

“So are you.”

I almost laugh at that. My grip loosens, but I don’t step back. Neither does she.

Her hand rests lightly against my arm, and though it could have been a casual touch, it doesn’t feel casual at all. There’s something charged in the air—whether it’s the storm or her, I can’t decide.

“You’re smiling,” she says softly, as if she’s caught me breaking a rule.

I hadn’t realized I was. But she’s right. A rare, unguarded smile pulls at my mouth, one that I don’t have to think about, one that feels…easy.

“I suppose you bring out the worst in me,” I tell her.