“Perhaps it was for the best,” Prince Kevon squeezes back. “Because my father was absent, I spent a lot of time with the Devotees of Gaia, teachers, and nannies who gave me a rounded view of our world. I also had wonderful cousins who are more like siblings.”
“Like Garrett,” I say.
“When Forelle tells me about her childhood, it seems like another world,” says Garrett, his voice breathy with awe.
I wrap my arms around Prince Kevon’s middle and hold him tight. When he was still disguised as Sergeant Silver, he talked about the beauty and peace of our region. Harvesters are usually too busy struggling to survive. We don’t occupy ourselves with petty ambitions like the people at the Oasis.
If I had to choose, I would rather live with people I love than with riches. It’s terrible that Prince Kevon has lost a father, but I’m glad the country has gained a kind and compassionate regent.
Garrett and Prince Kevon reminisce about the little contact they had with King Arias. They don’t exactly say the words, but the king sounds like he spent his time with various mistresses in different Echelons of Phangloria and particularly enjoyed spending time with the milkmaids of Bos.
I shake away suspicions about that town getting extra rations because the king favored their women. Even if it’s true, it’s not charitable to speak such scandalous thoughts about the dead.
Garrett’s watch chimes, and he excuses himself to walk to the bookcase. He pulls a lever and steps into the driver’s cab, leaving us alone. My mouth dries, and the surface of my skin prickles with apprehension. Part of me knows Prince Kevon won’t retreat into himself as Ryce did after Mr. Wintergreen’s death, but those years I spent pining over Ryce have created an expectation that’s difficult to shake.
With a sigh, Prince Kevon wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me further into his side. The muscles around my torso relax as I sink into his warm embrace. Then I remember that I’m the one who should be giving him comfort.
I tilt my head up and meet his sad eyes. “How are you feeling, really?”
“Bereft,” he says in a monotone.
“What do you mean?” My hand slides over his jacket and settles on the space between his pectoral muscles. There’s no knife in his chest, but I can’t resist the urge to keep my hand there to hold back a torrent of grief.
Prince Kevon bends his neck and kisses the tip of my ring finger. “He said he would guide me through the Princess Trials, but the tsunami happened, and he supposedly left with the navy…”
I nod, understanding what he leaves unsaid. King Arias lied about his whereabouts, and Prince Kevon found him dying in a hospital room. “You were looking forward to spending time with him.”
“The moments I had with my father was precious,” he murmurs. “Believe it or not, the king was a very warm and charming man.”
“He produced you, so he must have had some good points.”
Prince Kevon chuckles and places a kiss on my brow. I tilt my head up and meet his eyes. The longing in his gaze twists my heart. It’s as though he thinks I’ll one day slip beyond his reach. Maybe it’s because of my earlier rejections. Maybe he thinks I’m staying with him because he got stabbed and now because his father is dead, but it’s not.
“I’ll be here for you as long as you need me,” I say.
The corner of his lips curls into a smile. “What if that’s forever?”
My fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket. “How about forever and a day?”
Prince Kevon draws back a few inches. My breath catches. Doesn’t he believe me? He lowers thick, dark lashes, cups my jaw with his warm hand, brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. The touch traces a line of pleasure that makes my eyelids flutter closed.
“May I kiss you?” His deep voice echoes through my senses and makes my nerves thrum.
My heart skips several beats as though not knowing if it wants to rejoice or escape.
I lick my lips in anticipation. “You never need to ask.”
He leans close, engulfing me in his vanilla and nutmeg scent. The warmth of his breath against my skin feels like a hot caress, and my lips part for the kiss. After several frantic heartbeats, nothing happens.
“What are you doing?” I peer at him through my lashes.
“Drinking you in.” Prince Kevon’s eyes are mostly black with a tiny ring of denim-blue. “Even covered in an oversized man’s jacket, it’s impossible to suppress your beauty.” He trails his fingers over my jawline and down my neck with an intensity in his eyes that tells me he means every word.
Swallowing, I glance away and fix my gaze to the leather tomes on the bookshelf. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see this… what did he call me at the ball? The radiance of Gaia, untainted by surgical enhancements.
My throat dries. Even if Prince Kevon prefers dark-haired, willowy girls like me, I can’t match a beauty like Rafaela van Eyck. The silence between us continues, making my pulse race. Aren’t people supposed to say something eloquent at moments like this?
Berta’s words return to haunt me like a vengeful wraith. Girls like me, unadorned Harvester girls who don’t know poetry or politics or what to say in the throes of passion, never get the handsome prince.
“Zea?” Concern laces his voice. “Did I say something—”
“Just kiss me,” I murmur.
He turns my face towards his and descends his lips on mine with a touch that sends sparks racing along my nerve endings. His tongue swipes against the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips and yield.
The kiss is exploring, devouring, as though he’s both consuming and committing me to memory. It’s nothing like the gentle, sweet embrace we shared in the hospital’s roof garden, and there’s an urgency to the kiss like
