A Queen's Dowry

A QUEEN ’S DOWRY

…Luke reined his mount to a stop at the crest of a hill and wiped a trail of sweat from his brow. Beside him, Conall—former pirate, and Luke’s newlywed Rannan spouse—paused as well and stared from beneath furrowed brows out at the land that fell out below them. “We’re almost there,” Luke said, and grinned when Conall just grunted and slanted him a dark look. “Lad, you’ve said that near every day for the past week. I’m no longer certain I believe you.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, letting the wind tousle it. “I’m no longer certain this place even exists. Perhaps you’re just pulling the wool over my eyes, and we’ll spend the rest of our damned lives on horseback.” Luke circled his mount around. Just behind them, keeping a respectful but attentive distance, rode the mounted guardsmen that Ranna had sent him home with, to ensure a safe homecoming. Farther beyond them, still struggling up the hill, were the mules and wagons and teamsters that bore the provisions their company would need to sustain them on their progress. Luke spared them all a brief glance and nudged his horse closer to Conall’s, to keep their conversation private. “Are you this crabby because you miss the open seas? Or is something else on your mind?” Conall’s brow only knotted farther. “Of all the things I’d care to have between my thighs for days on end as a newly-married man,” he growled, “a horse is damned low on the list. I’d much rather have a ship beneath my feet and waves rolling under the bow.” He gave Luke a sidelong look and his expression warmed. “And I’d much rather have something else entirely between my thighs…”

ALSO BY AISLINN KERRY Double Feature A King’s Ransom In The Shadow Of The Sun Smoke

A QUEEN’S DOWRY BY AISLINN KERRY

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

A QUEEN 'S DOWRY AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2011 by Aislinn Kerry ISBN 978-1-61124-181-5 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Terra, Cartographer Extraordinaire

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CHAPTER 1 Click. Click. Scrape. Click. Addy’s pulse beat in time with each tumbler as they fell into place. Too slow—a servant might wander by at any moment and discover her here, crouched before the door of the King’s Chamber like a common thief. Only a few months before she’d have never had to worry about receiving anything more than a sigh or a scolding from her father if she’d been discovered picking any lock in the palace. Things changed. This was not the court she’d grown up in anymore. Click. Scrape. Click. The last tumbler fell and the knob twisted in her hand. She grabbed the lamp from the floor and slipped inside. 1

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The lamp’s glow reached out across the room, creating strange, thick shadows. She didn’t dare turn the flame any higher lest anyone passing by notice the light seeping out under the door. She knelt on the floor before the desk, rucking up her skirts so they wouldn’t get creased. Everyone in the palace knew her well enough to know such signs meant she’d been getting up to something she oughtn’t. Everyone except Darrin. If he’d known her at all, he’d never have trusted her father’s locks to keep his secrets safe. The polished wood floor bit into her bare knees as she crouched forward and slid the end of her hairpin into the drawer’s lock. The curved tip scratched inside the mechanism as she searched for the catch. She hadn’t anywhere near the skill picking this lock as she did the one on the door. Her father had never kept state secrets from either her or Luke, even when they were children, even when the truth had been painful or difficult to hear. There had been no need to pick locks, while her father ruled. But now he was dead, and Darrin sat on the throne that rightfully belonged to her brother, insisting all was well when she knew it was not. Darrin had never acknowledged it publicly, but sailors talked, and the whole city knew Luke’s flagship had returned without him, bearing only some barbarian pirate’s demand for ransom in exchange for his safe return. The Adeline had left with little fanfare, and returned just as quietly. Her sailors were not talking at all, not to anyone, and Luke still wasn’t home. Addy had long since grown tired of waiting for answers that Darrin did not intend to provide. The one hope she clung to was that Darrin would not have hesitated to claim the throne permanently if he’d had any solid 2

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reason to believe Luke had perished. He wasn’t dead. Losing her father had been hard enough—the gods wouldn’t take her brother from her as well. Until they brought his body home and interred him, she would hold fast to that certainty. It seemed to take an age for the drawer’s lock to click open, and her thundering heart counted every second. At last it slid free and the drawer opened, revealing a small pile of neatly stacked and folded papers. Addy drew them out and took up the first sheet, breathless with the quiet thrill of victory. “Adeline!” She jumped and froze like a startled hare, her pulse pounding. But the King’s Chamber door remained closed, and the cry had come from beyond it. She hadn’t been discovered, not yet. But she’d already lingered too long. Hastily, Addy folded the paper and tucked it into her bodice. She jabbed the pin back into her hair, snatched the lantern from the floor, and waited until a shadow out in the hall had passed by the door before she slipped out. Her chaperone hurried down the hall away from her, calling her name. The usually sedate woman had her skirts balled up in her fists, lifted high enough to reveal a scandalous flash of ankle as she moved. Addy moved away from the King’s Chamber door and raised her voice. “Mrs. Alcott? What is it?” The other woman froze mid-stride and spun. She gave a great sigh at the sight of Addy and bustled back toward her. “Heavens, child, where’ve you been?” “I was feeling restless and took a turn about the halls.” She pressed a hand to her bodice, feeling the crinkle of the paper 3

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tucked safely beneath. “Why such excitement? Has something happened?” Not bad news, she prayed. Please, do not let it be so. But surely mourning cries would already have gone up within the palace if that were the case… “I’ll say.” Mrs. Alcott brandished something that Addy could not make out across the distance between them. “They’re letters, my lady. A whole parcel of them, come from your brother himself.” “Luke?” Addy snatched up her skirts and rushed to Mrs. Alcott, not caring at all if she flashed an ankle or more in her haste. “He has written? What does he say? Did he write to me? Please!” She reached for the slip of paper that Mrs. Alcott held, but the woman gave Addy a stern look and wouldn’t relinquish it until Addy had put on a facade of ladylike calm and held her hand out in a display of patience. The moment the letter hit her palm, the facade dropped. Addy tore it open with unsteady hands. The wax seal had already been broken, but it bore her brother’s insignia. Still, she didn’t allow herself to truly believe until she unfolded the pages and saw them filled with Luke’s crisp, familiar handwriting. She braced a hand against the wall as giddy relief overtook her. He was alive. She flipped through the pages, running her fingers over the lines of script, certain that her heart would burst with joy at any moment. She found the last sheet and looked for where he’d scrawled the date beneath his signature. He’d written it recently, only a week before. Drawing a slow breath to steady herself, Addy shuffled the papers into order and began to read through them properly. She walked blindly down the hall as she read, ignoring Mrs. Alcott, 4

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who followed after and asked an endless barrage of questions. Her feet carried her without thought, through the halls of the palace and to her own chambers, in and across the sitting room to drop into an armchair as she read the letter through a second time, and a third, absorbing her brother’s words until her heart couldn’t contain any more joy. At last, she set the pages down on her lap and Mrs. Alcott leapt on her, demanding, “Well? What does he say? Is he coming home?” “I can hardly believe it,” she murmured, lifting the letter again and scanning it as though the words might have changed upon a fourth reading. “He says he has married. And not that Ilian girl he’s betrothed to, either, but to a Rannan, of all things.” He’d also said that it was a love match, not a political alliance, which was even more incredible. Addy hadn’t thought she’d ever see the day that Luke would choose his heart over his duty, but she was sorely glad to be proven wrong. That was all he said of it, though. He gave no explanation for how such a thing had come about, only wrote, There is much to say that cannot be put in a letter—more even than you might think— but rest assured I will tell you everything the moment I return. “You and your secrets.” She sighed down at the papers. “You would leave me with such an enigma, when I’ve nothing better to do with my days than drive myself mad wondering.” One thing he had been neither silent nor circumspect in regards to was the fact that he was returning. He had said it clearly and repeatedly, enough so that Addy wondered if the message hadn’t been meant for her at all, but instead as a warning to whoever had broken the seal and read her letter before delivering it to her. It didn’t matter, not to her. Whether a day from then or a month, all that truly mattered was that her brother was alive, and 5

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that he was coming home. *

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Luke reined his mount to a stop at the crest of a hill and wiped a trail of sweat from his brow. Beside him, Conall—former pirate, and Luke’s newlywed Rannan spouse—paused as well and stared from beneath furrowed brows out at the land that fell out below them. “We’re almost there,” Luke said, and grinned when Conall just grunted and slanted him a dark look. “Lad, you’ve said that near every day for the past week. I’m no longer certain I believe you.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, letting the wind tousle it. “I’m no longer certain this place even exists. Perhaps you’re just pulling the wool over my eyes, and we’ll spend the rest of our damned lives on horseback.” Luke circled his mount around. Just behind them, keeping a respectful but attentive distance, rode the mounted guardsmen that Ranna had sent him home with, to ensure a safe homecoming. Farther beyond them, still struggling up the hill, were the mules and wagons and teamsters that bore the provisions their company would need to sustain them on their progress. Luke spared them all a brief glance and nudged his horse closer to Conall’s, to keep their conversation private. “Are you this crabby because you miss the open seas? Or is something else on your mind?” Conall’s brow only knotted farther. “Of all the things I’d care to have between my thighs for days on end as a newly-married man,” he growled, “a horse is damned low on the list. I’d much rather have a ship beneath my feet and waves rolling under the 6

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bow.” He gave Luke a sidelong look and his expression warmed. “And I’d much rather have something else entirely between my thighs.” Luke laughed even as his cheeks heated. Instinct made him want to glance back at the guardsmen and ensure that they hadn’t overheard the innuendo, but Conall would have teased him mercilessly for it. He resisted the urge. “I told you. It seems nothing but earth and grass now, but Samar City sits on the shores of a grand lake, so vast you cannot see one shore from the other. And we’ve boats we can take out when the weather’s warm—” “A ship,” Conall groaned. “It’s a ship I want beneath my feet, not some damned boat.” Luke flinched back from his sudden temper. Conall groaned again and dragged both hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, lad. It’s nerves, that’s all. I know what to do with myself when there’s a ship beneath my feet and wind in my sails, but I’m no good on land.” Luke was quiet a moment. “We really are close.” He pointed toward the hill that rose on the other side of the valley. “Samar City’s just beyond that rise.” “And then the fun really starts,” Conall said with a wry grin. *

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The next morning, couriers arrived and claimed Luke himself had been seen riding the hills of the River Marisk with a full garrison at his back, but no one in the palace credited it, for they’d only just received their letters the day before, and surely he couldn’t be so close so soon. Besides, he’d left with an envoy, but it had been a prince’s retinue, and not a true soldier amongst the lot 7

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of them. The following day, word came that he was riding up the Great Road itself and would be in the city by evenfall, and this time it came on fine stationary sealed with wax and the royal emblem. None could believe it, but Addy caught a glimpse of the letter as a courtier waved it about, and she recognized her brother’s hand readily enough. She’d have saddled her horse and flown south down the Great Road until she found him herself, but Mrs. Alcott had chased after her all her life, and she knew Addy’s tricks too well. She reached the stables only a moment after Addy did, and led her back to the palace stern-faced and scowling. When she forbade her to leave the palace, Addy demurred and swore she wouldn’t. While Mrs. Alcott spoke with the stable hands to ensure they knew better than to let Addy take her horse out, Addy ran up to the highest tower in the palace and climbed out onto the slanted roof. Mrs. Alcott may have known Addy’s tricks, but Addy knew her just as well, and she knew that the woman was deathly afraid of heights. She could disapprove all she liked, but she couldn’t force Addy back inside. Addy slid down to the roof’s southern edge and sat with her knees against her chest, staring down the long, straight scar that the Great Road cut through the city’s center, watching for signs of her brother’s approach. People trickled through the city gate all day in small clusters, but as afternoon wore on toward evening, a thick knot of travelers appeared upon the Great Road, so many that they blotted out its entire width. They rode in regimental formation, arrayed in tidy rows and columns as no common folk come to market ever did. 8

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Addy scrambled up the roof and back through the window, pulling on her slippers as she ran. She took the stairs two at a time and darted through the halls and out into the courtyard that sat at the Great Road’s head, where all arrivals to the palace were received. When Addy had been too young to know better and her father had returned from a long trip, riding up that same broad avenue, Addy had torn away from her nurses and thrown herself into his arms before he’d even had a chance to dismount. And he, who was sometimes stern and harsh with his children, would always laugh and scoop her up and give her the first and warmest welcome. When they’d all been older, and her father too ill to leave his bed, it had been Luke who rode out in his stead, and Addy had thrown herself at him with no less exuberance upon his return. And, laughing, he had slipped from his saddle and caught her up in his own fierce embrace, before mounting again to finish the ride home. This time, she waited at the steps as a princess ought, though it killed her to stand still. This was not a return from a day at hunt, or a week touring the countryside. This was a king returned to claim his throne, and it required dignity. Her governesses might have laughed at the suggestion, but Addy did know how to behave properly, when it was called for. Luke always knew what was right and proper, and he always behaved accordingly. He didn’t slide from his horse in anticipation of her welcome, but his gaze sought her out first before anyone, and the corners of his eyes creased when he caught her gaze. She ducked her head, letting her curls fall forward to hide the entirely undignified grin that she couldn’t restrain. A man rode at Luke’s side, tall and handsome, his spine stiff 9

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with an overabundance of gravity. Addy might have supposed him the captain of the guardsmen arrayed behind them, except that he rode his poor horse worse than anyone Addy had ever laid eyes on. He carried a sword on his hip, though, and Luke kept him close as they approached the small crowd that had gathered to receive them. It was not the same court that had bid him farewell, so many long months before. Many of the courtiers who had been constant presences in the palace all their lives had returned to their estates in the country during Luke’s absence, or stopped bothering to attend or speak up at royal functions. Those gathered around Addy now were mostly newcomers, noblemen with small titles from western Samar, who’d come to the city when Darrin had and formed a new court around him. Even the guards who stood at Darrin’s back were not the ones Addy had grown up around and become familiar with. They were new faces, strange faces, and when Darrin stepped into the courtyard to greet Luke, they came forward with him, marching like an army onto the field of battle. The men who rode at Luke’s back were not the guardsmen he’d left with. They had swarthy skin that wasn’t often found in Samar, and Addy had never seen the like of their armor. Rannan soldiers, she guessed, sent with Luke’s new bride. But as Darrin and his guards approached, they swung off their horses and moved to stand in formation before Luke, their hands on their swords and their faces set with warning. Darrin’s guards bristled just out of reach. The two lines of men squared off with one another, tension rolling off of them like heat from a fire, and while Addy stared on in shock, Luke looked down on the stand-off before him with deep lines set around his mouth. 10

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His expression was grim, but it wasn’t the least bit surprised. What is Darrin playing at? Addy wondered, stiffening with outrage. Luke’s home now, and safe. He can’t possibly think to still keep the throne. Darrin stepped forward from his guards and began the lengthy, formal greeting between the current Regent and the rightful King, welcoming Luke home and professing what an honor it was to serve his liege. He looked as though every word tasted bitter. Luke did not move from behind the guardsmen that defended him. He spoke his half of the script, thanking Darrin for his service and commending him for his duty. He looked little happier with his half of the ritual, but both men kept their spines straight and spoke the words required of them. Addy waited for the tension to break, sick with dread. She wanted to look for Luke’s Rannan bride amongst the company, but couldn’t bear to take her gaze from him so long as Darrin stared at him with such poison in his eyes. At last, there were no more words to be exchanged. The formality was satisfied. Darrin gave Luke a stiff, ungracious bow and spun on his heel, striding back into the palace. His men followed after him, throwing malevolent glances over their shoulder at Luke as they retreated. The rest of the courtiers dispersed, and finally Addy came forward off the steps and approached her brother. Worry kept her steps slow and her demeanor reserved. But when Luke caught her eye, the tension drained from him, and he broke into a grin. She couldn’t help but throw her arms about his neck. He dropped the reins of his horse and wrapped her in a fierce embrace, tight enough to make her ribs ache. 11

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“I am so very glad you’re home,” she whispered, holding on to him. For just a moment, with her brother’s arms around her, her strength wavered. She pressed her face to his shoulder as the grief and fear of the past months rose up and closed her throat. When he released her, she swept it all out of sight again and stepped back, lifting her chin. “You have kept me in suspense long enough, brother. You must introduce me to your new wife at once. And then you must tell me how this has happened!” Luke laughed and ran a hand over his jaw, blushing. She stared at him, shocked by the rising color on his cheeks. She’d never have believed it were she not witnessing it with her own eyes, but it seemed as though Luke had found himself a bride he could lose his heart to after all. Nothing less would have caused him to turn such a delightful shade of pink. “I will, Addy,” he promised. “I’ll introduce you, and tell you everything. But it’s a long tale, and I need to see to the rest of our company. Will you wait for me in the library? I’ll just be a moment.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t keep up the pretense for long. She relented, and hugged him again before Mrs. Alcott took hold of her arm and escorted her back into the palace. To her relief, Luke was true to his word and didn’t make her wait long at all. He found her in the library, where Mrs. Alcott was making her practice her Kaloskan conjugations while they waited. His Rannan guards filed into the library with him, and Addy blinked at them in surprise. She dismissed Mrs. Alcott, then turned to the guards. “A moment of privacy, please.” They hesitated, frowning and casting dubious glances Addy’s way, to her alarm. 12

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“She’s my sister,” Luke snapped at them. “She’s no threat.” “Aren’t I?” She shot him a grin. “I left my fair share of bruises on you, growing up. But where is your wife?” Luke motioned her for patience as he ushered the guards outside and made quick arrangements with them to guard the library doors. At last they filed out, all but the one Luke had kept close by his side all this while, and it was just the three of them left, standing uncertainly before one another. “Addy, this is Conall.” Luke pulled the other man forward. “He— Well. He saved my life, more than once. I wouldn’t be here at all were it not for him.” Addy appraised the stranger anew. He seemed more at ease now than he had at first glance, perhaps because he was no longer seated upon his horse, or perhaps because of the relative privacy they now enjoyed. He smiled at Addy when she dipped into a curtsy. “I am much obliged, sir. My brother’s life is very dear to me.” She straightened and waited expectantly, but Conall was watching Luke, and Luke was watching her. She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful to the man who returned you to me, but your wife, Luke. What of her?” Luke turned pink again, and Conall laughed beneath his breath. Addy had the sudden, disarming sense that someone had told a joke and she’d missed it completely. “What? Heavens, Luke, talk to me.” It was Conall who took pity on her and came forward. “I’m sorry. He’s doing a poor job of it. You’re wanting to meet the Rannan your brother married, yes?” When Addy nodded, he thrust his hand out toward her as though he expected her to shake it like a man. “Then the person 13

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you want to meet is me. Pleased to meet you.” Addy stared at him, taken aback. “But…” She looked at Luke, who didn’t refute it, only watched her with a painful sort of hope in his eyes. When he reached out next to him, groping blindly, and Conall slipped a hand into his and squeezed it without words, Addy’s heart clenched so tight she thought it would burst. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, well— Oh, Luke.” She threw herself at him, and he stumbled back, startled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him so hard she ached. Luke laughed breathlessly and brought a hand up to stroke over the back of her head. “You are not…?” “Not what?” She drew back and looked at him. “Not surprised? I am that. Not…shocked, or appalled?” She shook her head slowly. “Luke, you are happy. I can see it for myself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, and I didn’t know how you’d ever manage it with a bride you married for politics.” She turned and shot a glance at Conall. “So long as he keeps you that way, I’ve no complaints at all. He seems like a fine man.” Conall laughed and scrubbed a hand over his brow. “Oh, lad. You haven’t told her the whole of it. Perhaps you’d better, before she goes and starts getting the wrong idea about me, thinking I’m an honorable man.” “Yes, tell me all of it.” Addy reached to grip Luke’s hands. “I cannot begin to imagine how this might have happened. You weren’t gone that long.” Luke laughed. “It may be long in the telling. We’d better get chairs.” They dragged three of the library’s armchairs together, and Addy dropped down into hers without a care for how it would 14

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wrinkle her skirts. She curled her legs up against her chest and leaned her chin on her knees. “I want to know everything.” Luke settled down into his own seat, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “I suppose it all started when the Falcon was set on by pirates, and I was taken for ransom.” Addy nodded and indicated for him to continue on to the part of the story she hadn’t already heard. “Now, lad, that was an honest mistake.” “Mistake?” Luke turned to look at him, laughing, his face so bright with love and humor that Addy wanted to kiss them both. “The only mistake was that you thought I was a noblewoman.” “Wait.” Addy stared at Conall. “You—” She looked back at Luke, and his sheepish grin was answer enough. “Luke! You married a pirate?” she cried, and bent double with helpless laughter. “Well,” Conall murmured after a while, as Addy wiped the tears from her cheeks and fought to contain her giggles. “She seems to be taking this in stride.” “That’s my sister for you,” Luke said dryly. “Addy, you can stop laughing at me now.” “No, no—” She waved a hand at him and shook her head. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s not that.” She drew a steadying breath, and her face split into a grin. “This is going to cause quite the scandal. I’m so proud of you.” Luke grimaced, chagrined, but Addy motioned for him to continue. “Go on. I have to hear the rest of this.” And so Luke kept speaking, and with the occasional interjection from Conall, they told her about what had happened to them and between them since Conall had boarded Luke’s ship. Addy listened, grinning fiercely as they related their adventures 15

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and their haphazard journey to loving one another, until the tale came to the ransom exchange and Luke fell curiously quiet. “It’s like a story in a book!” Addy hugged her legs against her chest. “Go on, then. They gave him the ransom, and then what? How did he convince you to stay?” When Luke still wouldn’t speak, red-faced, Conall quietly took over. “They did offer me money, enough treasure to keep a man living in luxury for the rest of his days. But it wasn’t ransom. It was blood money.” Addy frowned at him curiously, but even he fell quiet and thoughtful for a moment. When he continued, it was to say, “The coin they offered me wasn’t an exchange for Luke’s life. It was payment for his death. They wanted me to kill him.” “What?” The smile fell off Addy’s face. She jolted upright and stared at Conall in horror. “They wanted what?” Luke glanced up at her, meeting her gaze for the first time since he’d gone quiet. He looked miserable. “They wanted to keep their man on the throne. They wanted to prevent me from returning to claim it.” Addy sucked in her breath. “Darrin.” Luke nodded and leaned forward, his head in his hands. “Luke, that’s treason.” She scrambled off of her chair and dropped to her knees before him. “Why isn’t he in chains? You…you greeted him like family. People must know!” “No.” His voice lashed out, harsher than she could ever remember him being with her. He raised his head and stared down at her. “I can’t say anything. Not yet. Everything must seem normal until I am sure I know who all the traitors are. Darrin wouldn’t have come up with a plan like this on his own, he hasn’t the ambition. Someone else planned this. Someone I trusted. If we 16

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don’t figure out who…” He shuddered and drew in on himself. “I’ll never be safe.” His gaze slid sideways to Conall. “None of us will.”

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CHAPTER 2 The Rannan guards fell into step around Luke and Conall as they bid good-bye to Addy and left the library. Luke hadn’t taken more than two steps outside of the library doors before he was beset by the Baron of Prinsley, who grabbed Luke’s hand despite the guards’ warning rumbles and the way their hands went immediately to the swords on their belts. “Sire!” He pulled at Luke’s hand urgently. “I simply must have an audience right away. For two months Hapsworth has been outfitting a garrison at the border between our lands and Darrin will do nothing so long as Hapsworth has coin enough to bribe him—” Luke reared back, shocked at being addressed by the title that had always been his father’s. The guard nearest him noticed his 18

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tension and moved to intercept the baron, but Luke shook his head and urged him back. “I haven’t even been home an hour, Prinsley. Take it up with the chamberlain, and he’ll set a time for an audience.” Prinsley groaned and tried to dodge around the guard who blocked his way. “But, Sire—” Luke shook his head and continued down the hall, letting the ranks of the guards around him bear Prinsley back. But there were other courtiers to take his place, a seeming endless crowd of them come to beg audience with their new king, or levy complaints, or demand redress for whatever wrongs done to them in the long months of Luke’s absence. The guards circled around Luke when the press of them all grew too much, a living shield bearing them back. Even so, the sheer numbers of them made Luke’s chest tighten until he could hardly breathe. There was so very much to be done. He’d been preparing for this moment his whole life, but it was never supposed to have happened this way. “Lucas.” The sound of Darrin’s voice cut above the others’ clamor, and made tension roll down Luke’s back. He met Darrin’s cold gaze across the distance and the courtiers between them. Darrin gave a shallow bow, hardly enough to be called one at all. “I am sure you’ll be eager to take up your responsibilities, of course. If you’d care to accompany me to the King’s Chamber?” Luke’s mouth tightened. Darrin overstepped himself, to try to give Luke commands, and the last thing Luke wanted was to accompany the other man anywhere. But there was little Luke could do about it, and here with so many surrounding them, it would make him seem petty and insecure in his position to quibble over fine points of protocol. 19

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He led Darrin to the King’s Chamber, rather than follow, and the Rannan guards stayed close around him as he walked. He found their attentiveness reassuring now, with Darrin’s presence weighing on him. He didn’t even protest when half of them accompanied him into the King’s Chamber, though Darrin seemed irritated at their presence. Let him be, Luke thought violently. Treacherous bastard. He’ll not get me alone that easily. The King’s Chamber was crowded with so many people filling it, and half of them, once coaxed to speak, voiced wary concerns that they had been waiting weeks or months for resolution to their complaints, or even the opportunity to voice them at all. It will take me weeks to hear them all out. Luke gazed at the faces around him in dismay. And longer to see to their concerns. I’ll be lucky if I ever catch up. With a deep breath, Luke strode forward and took his seat in his father’s chair. He set quill and ink by his elbow, and waved the first petitioner forward. “Right, then. I had better get started.” *

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When the last of the chambermaids had dumped their steaming buckets in the bath and taken their leave, Luke found himself alone with Conall for the first time in weeks. He shut the door to his chambers and leaned back against it with a long sigh. He shut his eyes as the tensions of the day—of the past weeks, if he were honest—slid away. Conall came and pulled at him, hands curling into his shirt. “Come on, lad,” he said gently. “Before you fall asleep on your feet.” 20

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Luke stumbled to the bath, shedding clothes with each step. He climbed in, hissing at the sting of hot water on his sore flesh. The bath was big enough to hold the both of them, but when Luke invited Conall in, he shook his head. “You go ahead. I want to take a look around.” Luke watched in bemusement as Conall strolled about the room, studying the sculptural work in the legs of his desk, the murals on the walls, the cluster of personal mementos upon a table, as though they were in some marvelous, exotic locale, and not the bedroom that Luke had slept in every day of his life. “What’s so fascinating?” he asked at last, as Conall ran his fingertips over the gilt rim of his lamp. Conall was quiet a moment, then shrugged. “If I’d ever managed to get my hands on loot like this, I’d have been set for life.” “Well, it belongs to both of us now.” Luke leaned his head back so the water soaked his hair up to his scalp. “You’re welcome to it. If there’s something particular you like, let me know. I’ll make sure it gets moved to the new rooms.” Conall made a quiet sound but didn’t answer. Luke glanced at him, then picked up the soap and scrubbed it through his hair, working up a thick lather. He ducked back under the water to rinse the suds out, then quickly scrubbed his skin clean of the dirt from the road. While he washed, Conall settled himself gingerly upon the edge of the bed, as though he feared to dirty it. Eventually, as Luke was stepping out of the bath and drying off, Conall flopped down onto his back with an immense sigh. “If I never had to move again, I should be happy,” he declared to the ceiling. Luke smiled and wrapped his towel about his hips. “Your 21

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turn,” he said, crossing to the bed. But halfway there, his feet stilled and he found he had to just stop and look at Conall, head angled to the side, emotion fluttering beneath his breast. Conall pushed himself up onto his elbows and shot Luke an uncertain look. “What is it?” Luke gave a crooked smile and shook his head as he closed the distance between them. “Do you know, there’s never been anyone but me in this bed? Not once.” Incredulousness washed over Conall’s face. “No one?” He pushed himself the rest of the way up so that he was sitting again. “Dear gods in heaven.” Luke laughed and came to stand before him, hovering his hands over Conall’s shoulders. “Don’t act so disingenuous. I told you I was an innocent. His cheeks burned at the memory. “You made me tell you.” “An innocent, sure, but I didn’t imagine for a moment… Oh, heavens.” He took hold of Luke’s wrists and pulled him forward until Luke climbed up into Conall’s lap, straddling his legs. Conall framed Luke’s face in his hands and drew him in for a greedy kiss. Luke’s laughter died beneath a wave of heat. Conall slid his hands up to cup around the back of Luke’s neck and drew Luke with him as he lay back upon the bed. He rolled, putting Luke beneath him, and kissed him, devouring him. “Oh, lad,” he groaned, hands dragging down Luke’s chest. “I’ve such an urge to do the most wicked things to you all of the sudden.” Luke laughed breathlessly, arching up into his touch. “Here? In the bed I grew up in?” “Yes.” Conall’s fingers curled into his shoulders. His weight bore Luke down on his back and pinned him there. “Here, in the 22

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bed you grew up in, the bed you’ve shared with no one before now.” He groaned and closed his mouth on the skin of Luke’s neck. “Gods. I’ve known entire families who lived in tenements smaller than this bed. It’s a crying shame that you’ve hoarded it to yourself for so long.” “Ours will be—bigger,” Luke gasped. He lifted his hips off the bed and Conall tore the towel away, baring him completely. “I cannot even imagine.” Conall slid down, closing his mouth over Luke’s nipple and sucking at it mercilessly. Luke shuddered and cried out beneath him, twisting at the sharp stabs of pleasure that arrowed through him. “Conall.” He groaned and grabbed at his shoulders. Conall raised his head and looked down at him sternly. His thumb slid over Luke’s wet flesh, another torment. “You’re not going to get shy on me, are you?” He bent and dragged his tongue down the center of Luke’s chest. “Because I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” Luke gave a choked laugh. “No. Not shy. Insist all you like. I’ll not stop you.” He tensed as Conall twisted his nipple between his fingers. “Gods. Don’t stop.” “Oh, you needn’t worry about that.” But despite his assurances, he pushed himself up, not touching Luke, just looking down at him. His gaze slid over Luke’s body, bared and flushed from his touches, until Luke blushed at the scrutiny. “What?” Conall shook his head. “Nothing, lad.” His hand spread over Luke’s shoulder and slid a slow, possessive glide from his throat down to his hip. Conall’s gaze followed it, heated. “You look like you belong here. That’s all.” “I do,” Luke said, puzzled. There was something in Conall’s 23

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gaze that made Luke reach out for him, not to touch but to embrace and reassure. But Conall rocked back, sitting on his haunches, and patted Luke’s hip. “Roll over, lad,” he said, and Luke forgot about his concern before he’d even fully acknowledged it. Luke obeyed, turning onto his stomach. He propped himself on his forearms so he could twist and look back. Conall’s hair fell forward as he bent to kiss Luke’s shoulder, tickling his cheek. Luke brushed a kiss over the crown of his head, then let his own fall forward as Conall kissed across his back to the base of his neck. Conall’s tongue flicked over the bony protrusion of a vertebra. One hand curved over his side, spreading over his ribs. Luke drew slow, controlled breaths as Conall left a lingering trail of kisses down his spine. When teeth scraped gently over skin, Luke’s breath hitched, and he flexed his hips against the bed. “Conall,” he murmured, purely for the sake of speaking his name. Conall hummed acknowledgment against his skin and continued his progress. His lips brushed down to the small of Luke’s back, and the hand on Luke’s ribs slid to his waist. Luke bit back a small sound as his kisses traveled over much more sensitive nerve endings. He continued down, all the way to the very base of Luke’s spine, and his tongue flicked over his tailbone. Luke dug his teeth into his lip, rocking back against Conall, and Conall’s hand slid unexpectedly under his hips, fingers curling around Luke’s hardening cock. Luke leaned his brow against his fists, eyes drifting shut. He thrust into Conall’s hand and Conall tightened his grip, stroking 24

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him. Luke moaned and thrust again, and made a sharp sound of protest when Conall released him. Conall scraped his teeth over Luke’s hip, then did it again, over the rounded muscle of his ass. Luke caught his breath and stilled, waiting, holding himself perfectly motionless in anticipation. Conall tormented him with it, edging slowly closer to where Luke wanted him, darting away the moment Luke started to think he might give in at last. The first tentative brush of Conall’s tongue between his cheeks made Luke groan and press back into the caress. Conall hesitated, waiting until Luke was crying out his frustration, then returned for a longer, firmer caress. “Gods,” Luke gasped, shuddering, as Conall pressed down between his cheeks and flicked the tip of his tongue across Luke’s anus. “More?” Conall asked, a teasing lightness to his tone. “Please.” “Well.” Conall’s thumbs swept between Luke’s cheeks, parting them as Conall bent over him again. “How can I resist a request made so sweetly?” His tongue dabbed at Luke again, then more firmly, sweeping over the puckered ring of muscle. Luke slid a hand down between his stomach and the blankets to grip his cock, stroking himself as the tip of Conall’s tongue probed at him, easing him open with a patience that Luke himself lacked. His fingers clenched on the pillow, abusing the fine silk case in ways it was never meant to endure. He stroked himself faster, harder, needing more, until Conall caught his wrist and scolded, “I’ve not even started to have my fun with you, lad. Don’t rush me.” Luke groaned and pressed his brow against the pillow. “You’re 25

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a cruel man.” Conall gave a sharp laugh and rewarded him with the pressure of a fingertip against his entrance. “You knew well enough what I was when you wedded me, lad. Now you’re stuck with me.” His hand rubbed over Luke’s ass, stroking away the tension there as though it wasn’t his own fault that Luke was tense in the first place. He continued, teasing, “I know arranged marriages have a poor reputation, but I think you might come to like me, in time.” Luke laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sighed as Conall pressed the finger into him. “You know I love you.” “I know.” Conall twisted his finger as he worked it deeper. “It quite mystifies me.” “Does it really?” Luke rocked back against the teasing pressure, driving him in farther. “I can’t imagine why. I should think it obvious.” Conall grunted but didn’t reply. As he worked a second finger in beside the first, Luke shut his eyes and let Conall’s touch chase away the worries he’d carried with him for so many weeks, and replace it with an altogether different sort of tension. I’m home, he thought with a lengthy sigh. And I’ve problems aplenty to face here, but gods, I’m home. He moaned as Conall slid both fingers in deep. And he’s with me, he thought with a growing sense of wonder. That in itself was more than he’d have ever dared to ask for. Conall drove into him abruptly, all the way to the last knuckle, sharp, faster thrusts now. Luke jolted beneath him and muffled his cry in the pillow. Conall moved up the bed, stretching out above Luke so his chest brushed against Luke’s back and his hair slid across the back of Luke’s neck as he bent and breathed, “Like this, do you, lad?” 26

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“Yes,” Luke cried, pressing back against him. “Conall, gods.” Conall dragged Luke’s earlobe between his teeth. “What do you want?” “You. Anything. Please—” “You are so greedy,” Conall said, laughing quietly. He licked along Luke’s neck and added a third finger. “I quite like it.” The added girth drove Luke’s breath from him with a hiss. He bit down hard on his lower lip, struggling against the urge to demand even more. Conall slid an arm beneath him, wrapping around his chest. He caught Luke’s nipple between his fingers, tugged at it in time with each thrust. Shuddering, needy whimpering sounds spilling from him with every movement Conall made, Luke tried once again to slip a hand down his stomach and provide himself with some measure of relief. Instantly, Conall froze within him. Luke sobbed with frustration. “Please!” “Not this time, lad.” He gave a single, sharp thrust. “When you come, it will be because I brought you there.” “You are cruel,” he whispered. “Conall, I need you in me.” Conall made a quiet, humming sound of pleasure as he worked his fingers deeper. “Need me, do you?” “Desperately,” Luke gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. Conall scraped his teeth over the shell of Luke’s ear. His fingers slid out, leaving Luke empty and aching. But then Conall shifted and the broad, firm pressure of the head of his cock bore down against him. Luke’s breath left him all at once. He pulled his knees up underneath himself to give Conall a better angle and cried out as Conall took the first full, deep stroke into him. 27

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Conall set a slow pace, but it was a relentless one. His hips pistoned into Luke, his cock filling him. Luke panted, shoulders heaving, as the slow glide sent heat curling through him. Sounds caught in his throat, wordless, primal noises. Conall gripped his waist, fingers digging into the skin, using it to pull Luke back into each thrust, driving himself as deep as he could reach with each stroke. “Gods,” Conall muttered, lips pressed against his skin. “Ah, lad.” Luke rocked back into his next thrust, so that Conall’s hips jolted hard against his and forced a needy whimper from him. Conall growled fiercely and drove into him again, harder, faster. Luke drew a great, shuddering breath. “Yes,” he whispered, clutching at the sheets. “Like that. Yes.” Sweat clung to his skin, dripped from his brow. Luke swiped at it impatiently and tightened around Conall with his next stroke, thrilling at his ragged groan. He twisted, straining to look over his shoulder. Conall lifted his head and met his gaze. His eyes were dark and wild, his face flushed. He didn’t stop moving, and every stroke was reflected upon his face for Luke to see. “Kiss me,” Luke whispered. Conall groaned and brought a hand to his cheek, cupping it as he leaned in for a deep, hungry kiss. Luke parted for him, drawing him into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at Conall’s lips. After a moment, Conall grunted an oath against his mouth and wrapped an arm tight around Luke’s stomach. “Wait,” he muttered. “Wait, just one second…” He rolled, tipping them both over onto their sides. The hand he’d spread on Luke’s stomach slid down to curl around his cock, stroking steadily. 28

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Luke’s eyes flew open as he cried out, breaking away from the kiss. He reached an arm up and back, clutching at Conall’s hair, and arched against him, shaking. Conall kissed his neck, his shoulder, the slope of muscle between them, and all the while he was moving within Luke, his hand pumping in time with each thrust. Conall’s breath grew ragged, his thrusts sharp and demanding. Luke bit down on the heel of his hand, moaning with each thrust, gasping and pressing greedily back against Conall each time he withdrew. The way Conall moved in him was not slow and patient any longer, but instead a fierce demand, his body driving into Luke’s, dragging him step by step to delirium. Luke gasped and shook, his lungs heaving, his body straining. Conall’s arm tightened around him, holding him close. He stroked faster, pumping over Luke’s erection, his grip relentless and demanding. Conall was making sounds, too, harsh, half-strangled grunts and growls with every stroke he took into Luke’s ass, so that they both sounded more like beasts than rational men, straining and groaning. Conall pulled Luke back against his chest and leaned forward so his lips brushed Luke’s ear. “Come for me, lad,” he breathed. “Now.” Shuddering, Luke obeyed, keening as his climax rushed through him, a white-hot searing like a lightning strike. Conall slowed within him, not quite motionless, his movements long and slow again as his fist pumped Luke’s semen from him and his hand grew sticky with it. He didn’t stop until Luke gave a shuddering gasp, like a drowning man finally breaking the surface, and reached down to grab at his wrist. Conall moved his hand to Luke’s stomach and nuzzled against 29

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his throat. His breath was warm and damp, his skin tacky with sweat where they pressed together. I’m no better, Luke thought muzzily. He would have to bathe again. In the morning, he decided. When he’d had a proper night’s sleep, in a proper bed. He made a soft sound as Conall slipped out of him. When Conall moved away, letting Luke turn over onto his back, he kept rolling until he’d turned around completely and they were facing one another. He brought a hand up to trace along Conall’s cheekbone, sliding through the faint sheen of sweat. With his other, he reached for Conall’s cock, still stiff against his belly. Conall caught his wrist and stopped him. Luke blinked up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “What is it?” Conall drew his hand away, and with it, rolled Luke over onto his back. He held himself above Luke on one arm and gently brushed his fingers through Luke’s hair where it fanned out upon the pillow. His brows gathered as though in deep concentration. “Have I ever told you how very beautiful you are?” Luke’s cheeks flushed hot. “You said I was pretty once,” he answered quietly. So pretty it hurts, he had said, his voice throbbing as though he might actually have meant it. “But that was before…well, all of this…and I think you were teasing me.” “No.” Conall brushed his thumb along Luke’s jaw. “Not about this.” “Conall.” Luke reached for him again. “Let me—” But Conall shook his head and gently pushed Luke’s hands away. “No, lad. Let me just look at you.” He slid his touch from Luke’s jaw down over his collarbone, his fingers gentle, his gaze so full of admiration of what he saw that Luke’s breath caught in his throat. Slowly, the corner of Conall’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. 30

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“You are beautiful.” He wiped at a trail of sweat that had dripped down Luke’s ribs. “And you look thoroughly debauched.” “I am thoroughly debauched,” Luke countered, smiling at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To do all manner of delightful things to me, here in my own bed where no one but you has touched me?” Heat flared in Conall’s eyes. “Yes.” His hand slipped down to Luke’s stomach, and Luke opened his mouth to protest that he was exhausted by Conall’s attentions, as well as all they had endured together over the past weeks, and he had no stamina left for another round, and all he wanted in the world was to fall asleep now in Conall’s arms and not have to rise until the sun did. But it was his own cock that Conall wrapped his hand around, not Luke’s, and all Luke’s protests died a startled death before he had a chance to voice them. “Conall,” he said uncertainly. “Why won’t you let me help?” Conall just shook his head and stroked himself, his eyes blazing down at Luke, his expression so intense that Luke was held as immobile by it as a physical touch. He watched, helpless to look away from the play of emotions across his face, as Conall stroked himself and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He stared down at Luke as though he was the only thing in the world worth looking at. “Gods.” He groaned. “You look like a painting. Like one of those portraits wealthy noblemen commission and hang on their walls.” “I rather doubt that anyone has commissioned a portrait of themselves like this.” Luke curled his hands loosely atop his stomach, wanting to touch him but afraid that Conall would stop him. “All disheveled and sweaty and—” “Beautiful,” Conall insisted. He stroked himself faster. “I would do it,” he muttered. “Capture you in this moment, just like 31

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this—” “You’ll do no such thing.” Luke frowned up at him. “You may look all you like, but I’ll not have you inviting some artist in here to stare at me.” “No?” Conall gave a breathless laugh. “Well, then. I shall just have to remember for myself, I suppose.” “I don’t see what you need to remember for.” Conall’s eyes were wide and dark, his muscles straining in his arms and stomach, the tendons along his throat standing out with tension. “You shall see me like it again and again for the rest of our lives.” If Conall had a response, Luke never knew it, for his mouth gaped open and he jerked, thrusting into his own hand as his seed spilled over Luke’s stomach, and he didn’t speak except to give a long, aching groan. Tentatively, Luke brought his hands up to frame Conall’s face, but Conall didn’t push him away this time. Luke rose up and kissed him, soft darting pecks, until he let his lips part and let Luke slip into his mouth for a longer, deeper kiss. After a moment, Conall rolled away and retrieved the towel that they’d discarded earlier. He wiped at Luke’s stomach with it. Luke threaded his fingers through Conall’s hair and drew him down. Conall lay his head on Luke’s stomach, one hand resting gently against his ribs, and breathed softly against his skin. Luke stroked his hand through Conall’s hair, looking down at him. “You’re in a strange mood.” “Well,” Conall said, feigning levity, “I have only left behind my ship and my crew and my profession and my home, and come with you to this strange land where my very heritage marks me as a barbarian at best, and an enemy at worst. But of course, you’re right. I’ve nothing at all to be pensive about.” 32

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“I love you, you know,” Luke whispered, aching, uncertain what else he might do or say to help Conall make what was, admittedly, a very demanding transition. “I know.” Conall curved his body against Luke’s, his head a comforting weight on Luke’s stomach. “Get some sleep, lad. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been running yourself ragged. Don’t add me to your burdens.” Luke sighed and shut his eyes, but it hadn’t escaped his notice that though Conall had told him not to worry, he hadn’t said that there was nothing to worry about. *

*

*

Conall’s sudden tension beside him woke Luke from a dead sleep. Before he could even move, Conall laid a hand on his side. “Quiet, lad,” he said, barely a breath of sound. “Stay still.” Luke froze, straining to hear or see whatever it was that had caught Conall’s attention. After a moment, he heard it—raised voices, coming from the hall. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was agitated, and rising by the second. “Gods above,” Luke muttered and rolled out of bed, ignoring Conall’s growled protests. He pulled on trousers and a shirt and strode out of the chamber, across the darkened receiving room to pull open the door that led out to the hall. The Rannan guards had left two of their own stationed there. Their broad shoulders blocked the doorway. Luke rose onto his toes and looked out over their shoulders to see who had caused the disturbance. Darrin. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his brow. There were few people in the palace he would have been less interested 33

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in interrupting his sleep for. “What is it?” he snapped, letting his irritation color his tone. Darrin’s gaze shot past the guards to Luke’s. His face was flushed, his lips pressed thin and tight. He clutched a folded sheet of paper in his hand so hard that it had crumpled and creased. “Sire.” He spat the title out as though it offended him. “Tell them to admit me. You’ve a disaster on your hands.” You mean a disaster other than the one you left to me? Luke moved back a step. The guards exchanged unhappy glances with one another and with him, then parted reluctantly. Darrin swept in as though he were king. He practically threw the rumpled sheet of paper at Luke. Luke caught it without a word and unfolded it, but he kept his gaze on Darrin, waiting. “It’s from Emperor Shukio of Ilia, of course, and I’m sure you can guess that he’s taken issue with you forsaking your betrothal to his daughter.” Luke glanced up at him. He couldn’t help but shift his gaze past Darrin, to where Conall stood in the doorway between bedroom and sitting room, watching them both with a grim set to his mouth. Luke started to look at the letter, but another outburst from Darrin interrupted him. “They’re sending a delegation to see that this matter is corrected.” Darrin’s spine straightened. He glared at Luke. “I certainly hope you intend to come to your senses.” Conall’s lip curled dangerously, but he was standing behind Darrin, and Darrin didn’t see. Luke spared him a brief glance before he turned his attention back to his cousin. “You are not regent any longer. If you cannot refrain from giving me orders and opening my mail, then I shall be happy to see to it that you’re 34

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escorted home at once.” Darrin’s face turned an even darker shade of crimson. He snapped his mouth shut and glared. Luke ignored him and opened the letter. As Darrin had said, it was from the Ilian emperor, and expressed his extreme distress at having received news of Luke’s marriage to another while he was betrothed to Emperor Shomu’s daughter. “What does it say, lad?” Conall asked quietly. Darrin spun, and tensed at the sight of him. “Who is this?” “He thinks our marriage is a farce, done to avoid my obligations to him and his daughter,” Luke said to Conall. “He’s sent her to us, with a diplomatic envoy to see that I marry her promptly, and properly.” Conall’s brows drew together. “The hell you will.” “Of course not.” Luke waved away his objections. “But it was too much to hope we might get out of this arrangement with a shrug and a heartfelt apology. There will have to be discussions and negotiations and likely a good deal of concessions on my part, to ease the sting of it all.” He gestured with the letter. “The envoy’s already been sent. We’ll see what they want soon enough.” “Sire,” Darrin snapped. “What is it?” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s the middle of the night. You’ve delivered your letter. What else do you want?” For a moment, Darrin looked affronted at the harshness of Luke’s words. Then his brows lowered and he gestured to Conall. “Who is this?” he demanded again. “The name’s Conall,” he said, striding forward to stand opposite Darrin, his arms crossed and one sardonic brow lifted. 35

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“It’s a pleasure.” Darrin stared at Luke. “This is the Rannan you’ve married? This man?” Luke stood toe-to-toe with Darrin, forcing him a step back with his presence. “Yes. This man. Before Rannan officials and magisters and a good deal of her people, as well.” “Our people will never stand for this. The Ilians will never stand for this.” “They are my people,” Luke said, his voice lashing out, “and they will do as I tell them.” He waited a beat, for impact, then added, “As will you.” Darrin’s back straightened. His hand brushed over his hip, a gesture Luke recognized all too well, but it meant less without a sword on Darrin’s belt. Conall recognized the gesture, too, and strode forward. He grabbed Darrin by the arm and started to pull him across the room. Darrin spun, his free hand balling into a fist. “Get your hands off of me, you—” Luke moved quickly across the receiving room and opened the door. The guards outside stiffened at the sight of Conall and Darrin squaring off. “My cousin is just leaving,” Luke told them. “Please see him out.” Darrin protested, but the guards ignored them and led him away. Luke made sure to thank them for their diligence before he shut the door. Conall still looked ready for a fight when Luke turned back to him. Luke sighed and crossed the room to him. “Sorry,” he murmured as he slid his arms around the other man’s waist. Conall gave a sharp sigh and curved his arms around Luke’s 36

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back. “What on earth are you apologizing for?” He leaned his head against Conall’s shoulder. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.” “That we did.” Conall relaxed and drew Luke with him toward the bed. “Well. Can’t say I’ve ever been one to back down from a fight before. Let them do their worst. I wager they’re no match for a pirate.”

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CHAPTER 3 “Well, you’ve created quite a stir,” Addy greeted her brother when she’d finally persuaded the guards outside his chamber door to grant her entrance. “Will you announce it today? No one will give you a minute’s peace until you do.” “Yes.” Luke came out of the bedroom, buttoning up his waistcoat. “This morning, just as soon as possible. Darrin will have the whole palace turned against us if we let him run his mouth too long.” He sighed and crossed the room, taking up a folded and crumpled piece of paper from a side table. Addy’s brows shot up when he brought it to her. “This will not help things any, either.” She opened the letter and scanned it. Her gaze flew up to Luke’s. “They’re sending the princess here? What on earth do they hope to accomplish?” 38

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“A wedding,” Conall said grimly. “He’s already had one of those,” she snapped, scowling at the sheet. “He can’t have another.” “That won’t stop them from making their demands.” Luke took the letter from her and folded it again, then put it back where it had been. “Perhaps we can still make an alliance, if I can soothe their ruffled feathers well enough.” “I’ll do what I can to help with the feathers that Darrin’s ruffling up here.” She rose and kissed Luke’s cheek, then smiled at Conall. “Don’t look so worried. Nothing will come of it.” “It’s not the princess I’m worried about,” Conall grumbled. “It’s only disconcerting to think that everyone here is secretly hoping he’ll forsake me in favor of the girl.” “Not everyone.” Addy laughed as she made her way to the door. “I like you very much, Conall. What does some spoiled Ilian princess have on you?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Let her come. She may sway everyone else in the palace, but I’m sure I won’t like her at all.” Luke laughed. “You’d make a terrible diplomat, Addy,” he said fondly, and came over to hug her for the sentiment. Over his shoulder, Addy could see the way Conall’s expression darkened with concern when Luke’s back was turned. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “But I’m a wonderful sister.” She hugged Conall, too, and murmured in his ear, “I’d fight the whole damn delegation off single-handedly and send them back where they came from, if I could.” Conall smiled as he set her back from him. “You would not. You know I’d be there with my sword at your side.” His smile faded, and he sighed. “If I could.” 39

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*

*

*

The uproar caused by the news of Luke’s marriage was quickly overshadowed by the clamor of other preparations. For a week, Addy could hardly walk through the palace halls without tripping over servants scrubbing dust from the corners or teetering on ladders as they polished the chandeliers to impress the Ilian delegation. And amongst it all, there was their father’s entombing, and Luke’s coronation. Addy thought it should have been a grander affair. By rights, they should have had months to plan it. But the stewards did what they could, and in the end, it was just as well. Luke looked haggard when the day arrived, and he knelt to receive his crown as though it was a prison sentence. She hated that she was forced to stand amongst the rest of the court, and couldn’t embrace him until well afterward. He smiled and told her he was fine, that he was happy. But she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. They’d scarcely had a chance to catch their breath when a messenger came with the news that the delegation was approaching the city. By chance, it was Addy who intercepted him first, and she immediately went in search of Luke to tell him the news. He was not in the Audience Hall or the meeting chambers or any of the other places she might have expected him to be. At last she found him in the King’s Chamber, which she’d have thought was empty were it not for the Rannan guards standing beyond the door. In the past week, Luke had made it clear to all of his guards that Addy was to be allowed in to see him no matter what he was 40

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doing, but even so, she still hesitated outside the door at the sound of the voices coming from within, raised in anger. “The hell you can’t.” The growl was easily identified as Conall’s, and the anger in it made the hairs rise on the back of Addy’s neck. “Conall.” That was Luke, sounding strained and weary. “I did enough to injure their pride by scorning Nume and my betrothal to her. I cannot tell them they’re unwelcome and might as well turn around and go back home. That’s how wars get started.” Conall snarled loud enough that Addy could hear it through the door. “Well, what good is being king if—” “It’s no good,” Luke snapped. Even from the hallway, unnoticed by either of them, Addy flinched. “It’s no good at all. I told you before, it’s a terrible, thankless job. But it’s mine to do, and I’ll do it as best I can. Right now, that means welcoming the Ilians to Samar and doing what I can to appease the hurt I’ve done to their pride.” Addy glanced at the guards, then rapped lightly at the door to give the men warning. The conversation stopped mid-stream, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Luke and Conall turned to her. They both looked haggard. “You’ll want to know,” she said softly. “A messenger’s just come. The Ilians will be here by midday.” Luke closed his eyes and rubbed at his brow, and Conall turned away as anger flashed over his face. “I’ll have to go make sure everything’s in order, then. That’s not much time. Conall—” Luke looked up at the other man for a moment. He reached for his hands and squeezed them. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned for the door. Addy watched her brother leave, her brows furrowed at the 41

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bone-deep weariness she saw in him, but when Conall snarled, “Damn it,” beneath his breath, she turned back to the pirate. He had one hand fisted in his hair, clenched at the nape of his neck so hard his knuckles were white. Addy chewed on the edge of her lip as she stared at his back, then said, “I hope you don’t mind. I overheard a bit of your argument, before I came in.” Conall glanced back at her. He seemed surprised to still see her there. “If you mean to tell me that it’s part of his duty,” he said, “I feel it only fair to warn you that I’m wearing a sword, and I may very well use it.” Addy grinned. Conall’s brows shot up with surprise. “Duty,” she scoffed. “I hate that word. Duty would have me simpering and sighing and speaking only when directly addressed from now until I die. No, that’s not what I was going to say.” She gestured at the door. “You’re worried about this Ilian princess. That Luke’s going to leave you by the wayside and run off and marry her like everyone wants him to the minute she curtsies before him.” “It’s his duty,” Conall sneered. “And I know firsthand how damned determined he is to stand by his duty, however much he may hate it.” “Oh, he is that. But truly, you worry too much. He’s not going to leave you.” Conall slanted her a sideways look. “I see no reason to be so sanguine about the matter. I’m what he wants. She’s…” “Duty,” Addy said softly, and Conall made a sharp gesture. “Yes. Exactly so. And all he has ever done since I’ve known him is sacrifice what he wants for what he feels he must do.” “Conall.” Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm. He looked down at her hand, resting lightly on the sleeve of his shirt, then up at her. His brows were furrowed, but Addy thought it was 42

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more confusion than anger. “He has a duty to Nume, yes, but he has a duty to you as well. He married you, and that’s no small matter. Don’t think he takes that obligation any more lightly than he does his others.” Conall blew out his breath and dragged a hand through his hair again. “He married me,” he said quietly, “because he was told to. It was just his luck that my uncle thought to suggest me for his intended. He’d have married whoever they put before him, if it was his only means of getting home.” “Don’t be ridiculous. He married you because he loves you. If they had put any other woman before him, he’d have demurred because of this arrangement with Ilia. If they had put any other man before him, he’d have never taken them seriously.” She moved to stand in front of him and put her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her. “You should trust me on this,” she said, looking steadily into his gaze. “You don’t know him very well.” Conall jerked back, scowling, obviously insulted by the implication. Addy grabbed his sleeve and wrenched it to get his attention before she continued. “I’ve known him all my life, and most of his. You can’t hope to match that. So for heaven’s sake, trust me when I tell you that he loves you. I’ve never seen him so happy as he is when you’re nearby. He’s not going to wed this Ilian princess, not if it means giving you up.” She smiled brightly. “He can be as selfish as any other man, when the prize is dear enough. You’ll see.” Conall shook his head, still frowning. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I know enough of politics and human nature to know they’ll run him ragged, trying to get him to squeeze water from stones in order to prove his contrition. In the meantime, there is still 43

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someone here who would see him dead, and he’s done naught about that matter, either.” Addy’s smile turned lopsided. “Well, he has had other things on his mind, I’m sure.” Conall made a harsh sound. “Yes, and he’s likely to get poison in his soup or a knife between the ribs while he’s distracted. But he won’t listen to me. All this business with the Ilians has his head spinning.” “And I’m sure it will continue to do so for as long as they’re in residence here. Well…” Addy looked down to hide her smile and coyly shook out her skirts. “I know the people here nearly as well as Luke does. Tell me what you know, and I’ll do the same. Perhaps I can help you find this traitor.” Conall gave her a dubious look. “I don’t know…” Addy raised her chin and shook her hair back, meeting his gaze with her own stare. “Because I am a woman?” “Well—” Conall held up a hand as though to defend against her ire. “Your brother will have my head,” he said at last. “My brother knows that I can take care of myself.” She shut the door to the chamber, ensuring them at least a moderate amount of privacy, and took one of the chairs by the king’s desk. She gestured Conall toward the other. “Now, then. Tell me about this murder plot, and I’ll tell you about the letter I stole from Darrin’s desk, and let’s see what we can do to help Luke out.” Conall’s head jerked up, his brows rising sharply. “You did what?” Addy grinned. “Did you know? Hairpins make excellent lock picks, in a pinch.” She ran her hand over the dozen pearl-tipped pins her hairdresser had used to pin up her curls that morning. Conall gave a sharp laugh and shook his head, grinning. “I’ll be 44

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damned. All right, tell me about this letter you burgled, and we’ll see what we can figure out.” Addy drew the folded slip of paper out from where she’d kept it tucked under the edge of her bodice, so no one could stumble onto it accidentally. She unfolded it and spread it out on the table between them. “Look here, it mentions the Adeline—that’s the ship, of course—and I think they must be talking about that awful trick, trying to pay you to murder him. The question of course…” She tapped the valediction, where it was signed simply, C—. “Who wrote it?” *

*

*

Luke hurried through the halls of the palace, his feet carrying him automatically. He tried to focus on the Ilians and the preparations that still needed to be completed before their arrival, but inevitably his thoughts brought him back around to Conall, his bewildered anger with this whole affair and, beneath the anger, the tension and strain. They’d known it would be difficult from the start, it was true. But Luke was beginning to wonder if perhaps he hadn’t done Conall a disservice. Luke had been raised in the court, had been schooled endlessly in politics. He’d had a decent grasp of the sort of opposition they’d face. But Conall—Conall was a pirate, or had been, and as captain of his own ship, he’d never had to suffer the presence of those who were unpleasant or hostile to him if he didn’t wish it. Any jam he got into, he’d had the ability to sail away from. Not so here, where even one’s enemies must be tolerated, where the currents of the court’s favor were volatile and ever changing. 45

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Courtiers and palace staff tried to catch him as he passed, hurrying to match his pace and asking if there was any word yet on the number of the delegation they’d need to feed at that night’s formal dinner, or informing him that they hadn’t enough clean linens to make up the beds in the wing the Ilians were to be placed in. Luke moved through them all, giving brief answers where they were needed, waving off those whose concerns could wait. The Viscount Morley caught him by the arm and pulled him to an abrupt stop, demanding, “Your Highness, you don’t mean to capitulate to these foreigners’ demands, do you? We must show them a position of strength.” Luke stared at him, startled that there was anyone at all in the palace who might support his position when he refused to forsake Conall to wed the Nume. But not two steps beyond that he was ambushed by the Ilian ambassador, who wasted no time in telling Luke the diplomatic nightmare it would create if he refused their princess, and all the unlikely repercussions that would befall Samar if the treaty between their nations was not finalized and signed into effect. The Duke of Corsan practically fell all over himself to tell Luke how relieved he was that he had come to his senses and was going to marry this Ilian girl as he ought, while Leyburn, the captain of the guard, reminded him that they needed to discuss security while the Ilians were in residence, and Baron Selbourne elbowed Luke in the ribs and winked theatrically at him, wondering, “You old scoundrel, you don’t mean to make up for a lifetime of celibacy by taking a husband and a wife, do you, Lucas?” Luke wrenched himself away. “Enough!” he snapped at all of 46

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them. “I haven’t the time for this. Gossip amongst yourselves, if you like, but I’ve business to see to.” He spun on his heel and left them all behind him, looking startled and insulted. *

*

*

Addy and Conall spent the better part of the morning sequestered in the King’s Chamber, their heads bowed together as Addy wracked Conall’s memory of the men who had betrayed her brother. But of course, he hadn’t been paying attention to the features of the men, or noticed the little details that might have determined whose command they had been under or why they might have wanted to harm Luke. Addy would have recognized them, but they wouldn’t have meant anything to someone who wasn’t intimately familiar with the politics of the Samari court. “I don’t know!” Conall snapped when she pressed him for details one time too many. “It’s the man I love who’s endangered by this—don’t you think I would tell you if I knew?” “Of course. That’s not what I mean.” Addy picked up the paper she’d written notes on and tucked it and the letter back into her bodice. “This will do. It’s a start. We’d best be going. It must be near lunch time, and Luke will certainly want you by his side when the princess and her retinue arrive.” Conall cut her a sideways glance. “Do you think so?” He opened the door and held it while she stepped through. She hesitated just past the doorway, so that when Conall tried to follow her out, he came toe-to-toe with her and could not pass until she allowed him. She waited until he had met her gaze again. “He needs you there,” she said quietly. “He’d never tell you as much, but truly, he does. Stand by him, give him your strength. 47

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He’s not resting, I’m sure, and he’ll need you to keep him strong.” Conall grunted, but didn’t voice his opinion. Addy thought wryly that his expression made it clear enough without him having to say a word, but she let it stand, and she led him through the palace to the assembly room where the Ilians would present themselves to Luke. A small crowd had already gathered, Darrin and the royal advisors and a handful of others important enough to be present at such an event. Luke was there, evident amongst the crowd because of the knot of guards that surrounded him, keeping the rest at a distance. Addy threaded through the group, drawing Conall along with her, until they’d reached Luke’s side. He had his head bowed in conversation with Addy’s instructor on Ilian customs, receiving some last-minute advice about how not to further the insult he had already given them, but he gave Conall a relieved smile when he saw him. “There you are. Just give me a moment here.” “Don’t worry,” Addy said cheerfully, to cover the strain evident in both of them. She hooked her arm through Conall’s and added, “I’ll see he doesn’t run off.” Conall glanced down at her, a bemused smile lurking about his expression, as she turned him away from Luke. “Come,” she said quickly as she noticed Mrs. Alcott trying to make her way through the crowd. “I’ll make your introductions.” Conall laughed quietly and shook his head. “I doubt anyone here would deem me an acceptable escort to a princess, my lady.” “It’s Addy,” she snapped. “And you can just stop that right now.” He jerked his head around to stare at her. “Was that not the right title?” 48

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“I’ll say,” she muttered. She looked up at him and sighed at his stricken expression. “You’re nearly my brother, by rights, and I’ll not have you calling me anything but my name. If you start in on this ‘my lady’ business, then I’ll have to start calling you ‘my lord,’ and I absolutely refuse. I like you too well for all that nonsense.” Conall twisted a little to look down at her. “Why on earth would you call me that?” Addy’s brows rose. “Because you are married to the king of my country, of course. Were you a woman, you would be queen, you know.” She let out a soft breath and looked out on the people gathered in the hall. “As it is, we don’t exactly have a word to refer to a king’s husband, but don’t you start fretting about proper titles. You’re a higher station than anyone here but Luke.” Conall’s brow knit with consternation. “I am a pirate,” he said, “and a whore’s get.” “Well, you have come a long way in life, then, haven’t you?” She patted his arm. Soon enough a bell chimed, and a hush washed over the hall. The courtiers found places against either wall, and Addy brought Conall to stand beside Luke at the head of the room, facing the doors where the Ilians would enter. Addy took her own place just behind and to the side of him, close enough to show her support, but far enough back that there was no question who it was Luke stood with. The great doors swept open and the Ilian procession came forward. It was a grand, stately affair, headed by more diplomats than Addy thought any one country should ever have need for. They wore the formal dress of their country, which Addy’s tutors had drilled into her so well she could have named every button and 49

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bauble, had anyone bothered to ask her. The bright colors of their garments seemed shocking to Addy’s eye, used to the subtler, more muted colors preferred by the Samari court. But their expressions were stern and severe as they strode down the length of the audience hall. Behind the diplomats were an army of liter-bearers, loaded down with a staggering array of boxes and crates. And behind them were servants and maids, all of them dressed in blues and pinks and emeralds. They looked like flowers, or pennants in a breeze, with loose sleeves fluttering behind them and sashes trailing long, graceful ribbons. Tucked amongst them all like a gem was Princess Nume herself. Addy’s breath hitched as the crowd shifted and the other woman came into view. Unlike the servants behind her, she wore the finest silk, dyed in brilliant shades of red and gold. She bore no diadem or other marker of rank, only wore her long black hair pulled back loosely from her face in a clip of pearls, but she walked with a stiff sort of pride that Addy had seen in Luke all too often. The procession was impressive, of course, but Addy had seen her share of them before. She had never in all her days seen Princess Nume’s like. The company came to a stop before Luke and Conall. Addy, standing behind them, couldn’t see anything through their ranks. She fought back the urge to edge off amongst the courtiers and find a better vantage. Diplomats and their gifts bored her to tears, but she wanted to see more of this woman who had come to stake a claim on her brother. “We welcome you,” Luke said, his voice strong and proud, and bowed to the company before them. Conall bowed with him, as smooth and easy as if he’d been drilled by tutors all his life, as 50

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Addy and Luke had been. A murmur rippled through the crowd, Ilians and Samari alike, as people realized that when Luke said “we,” he meant it literally. This was not the royal plural of a king speaking on behalf of his country, but instead one that included Conall in the welcome, and counted him as an equal. After that there were speeches, an ungodly number of them that seemed unlikely to ever end, professing how very honored the Samari were to welcome the Ilian delegates to their shores, or how very much the Ilians respected Samar and her people. Samar and her people, Addy thought bitterly, careful to keep her expression impassive, But not her king. At last, when it was all Addy could do not to fidget to relieve the strain from her aching feet, the Ilian company split down the middle and ushered Nume forward to greet her intended. She walked with slow, measured steps, her head held high, her gaze steady. She climbed the steps to the edge of the dais and hesitated there, her gaze flicking across the court arrayed before her. Then she gave two Samari-style curtsies, each so perfect Addy’s tutors would have wept to behold them. The first she directed to Luke, and the second to Conall. A muted roar erupted within the audience hall, Samari and Ilians alike whispering furiously to one another and gaping at the display. And Addy stared, her heart hammering beneath her breast, a thrill of excitement running down her spine as she gazed at this woman, whom she had expected to be dreadful, but who was instead beautiful and serene and courageous enough to cast them all in an uproar with a single, simple gesture. The Ilian diplomats behind her look stunned and outraged by her actions, and Addy could guess well enough that she’d catch hell for it later. But she’d 51

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done it anyway. Luke stepped forward, through the noise, and gave Nume the kiss of greeting upon her cheeks. “And you are welcome, too, your Highness,” he said in a voice that somehow managed to be gentle yet still cut above the clamor of the rest of the court. “I have been very much looking forward to meeting you.” Nume offered him a tentative smile and said something in Ilian. Addy couldn’t help but move forward, straining to hear her voice. Luke responded in Nume’s own language and stepped back. She turned to Conall, and he stepped forward and kissed her cheek as well, only a little awkwardly. Addy clasped her hands at her breast as she watched the exchange, so thrilled that she could have hugged each one of them. She had expected nothing better of this meeting than an unmitigated disaster. She’d never have dreamed that Nume might do something so magnificently forward as to greet Conall like royalty, so obviously against the wishes of her diplomats and countrymen. The three of them stood facing one another, a small, quiet eddy in the midst of the hall’s chaos, speaking kindly, cordially with one another. It couldn’t have gone any better if they’d planned it. *

*

*

Addy hurried out of the assembly hall after Luke. Mrs. Alcott followed in step and hissed for her to remember propriety. For once, she took a breath for patience, and slowed her steps so Mrs. Alcott could keep up with her. She hesitated a few paces away when she saw Luke turn to Conall and exchange brief, heated words. Conall scowled and 52

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made an impatient gesture, then started off in the opposite direction. Addy chewed on her lip, then hurried after Conall. The courtiers circled Luke like vultures, and she wanted a moment with Conall before they thought to trail after him, too. She called his name as she neared, and he jumped as though she’d frightened him. His expression was dark when he turned, but he saw her and it eased somewhat. She threaded her arm through his and fell into step beside him. “Let me walk you to your room?” One brow climbed as he looked down at her, but he neither stopped nor shook her off. “Why?” “Because it will please Mrs. Alcott to be allowed to supervise me in the company of a notorious scoundrel,” she said breezily. “And it behooves me to keep my chaperone happy, from time to time.” Conall chuckled and relaxed somewhat at her side. But as they turned the corner, they encountered another knot of activity, and he stiffened again. These were not Samari courtiers, though, but a group of the newly-arrived Ilians, and Nume was at the center of their attention. Addy cried out happily and hurried forward, drawing Conall and Mrs. Alcott both along with her. “Oh, what luck! I was hoping for an opportunity to meet her.” One of the Ilian diplomats was speaking to Nume, and though they conversed in their own tongue, his tone seemed sharp and harsh. Nume frowned at him, lines gathering between her brows and her arms wrapped tight around her ribs. Since she seemed displeased by the man and whatever it was he was telling her, Addy stepped in before him and stole her attention. “I’m so pleased to find you here,” Addy told her eagerly. “I 53

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hate those formal introductions, you can’t get any sense at all of a person, and there’s no real way to—” She broke off because Nume was shaking her head, still looking displeased by something. “No,” Nume said, quite firmly. Addy rocked back on her heels and regarded the princess, nonplussed. “No? I only meant to introduce myself properly—” “No,” Nume said again, and reached out. She placed her fingers over Addy’s lips. Addy stopped mid-sentence, startled silent. Her lips seemed to tingle beneath Nume’s light touch. After only a moment, Nume drew her hand away and touched her own lips, then shook her head again. “Samari? No.” Addy’s mouth fell opened. “Oh heavens. You don’t speak Samari? At all?” Nume gave a rueful grimace and shook her head. “They sent you all this way and didn’t even bother to teach you the language?” Addy stared at her, appalled. She spun, seeking the diplomat. “You.” She caught him by the sleeve. “Surely you speak Samari.” “Adeline, really,” Mrs. Alcott scolded, but Addy shook her off and stared at the man, waiting for an answer. He glanced unhappily at her and Conall, then reluctantly answered in stilted but serviceable Samari, “I do, your Highness.” “Who is her translator?” Addy demanded. “Do not tell me she wasn’t sent with one.” “Well, it is certainly not me,” the diplomat snapped. “I’m not here to play nursemaid or trot about on her heels waiting for her to have something to say.” “I have something to say,” Addy said coolly. “If you will not tell her, then I’ll wait here until you’ve found someone who shall.” He stared down at Addy, his expression growing tight with 54

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anger and indignation. At last, he snapped, “Say it and be done.” Beneath his breath, he muttered something else in Ilian. Nume turned white as a sheet and Conall’s hand lashed out, grabbing the diplomat by the arm. “That is unbecoming a man of your station,” he growled, bristling, “and you will apologize to her for it.” Addy looked between the three of them in bewilderment. Nume was staring at Conall now, her mouth fallen open slightly. The diplomat glowered up at him as though Conall were not a full head taller and twice as broad. “Unhand me,” he snapped, shaking with outrage. “You’ve no right to touch me, you’re nothing but a common thug—” “A common thug who knows better than to speak such words in front of a lady, much less to her,” Conall growled, shaking him by the arm. His voice deepened, darkened. “You will apologize, or I’ll see to it that everyone in the city knows how the Ilian delegation feels about our princess.” Bright spots of color burned on the diplomat’s cheeks, but he straightened himself and shook off Conall’s hand. He turned to face Addy and gave a stiff, shallow bow, muttering so quickly the words slurred together, “My most humble apologies, your Highness. My mouth ran away with me.” Addy nodded and waved at him to straighten, too disoriented to know what else to do with him. Nume rounded on Conall, her face bright and animate. She chattered at him in a rapid stream of Ilian, gesturing with what seemed to Addy to be excitement. But Conall held his hands up like a man fending off an attack, and shook his head hard. “No,” he said. “No, my lady, please— No— Iye—” Addy grabbed him by the arm. “You know Ilian? You 55

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scoundrel! Why didn’t you say anything?” Conall looked up at her, his face shining with desperation as he tried to hold Nume at bay. “No,” he cried again, “your Highness— damn it, Addy—please, I know only a very little, and none of them words that are fit to speak where ladies might hear.” He glared at the diplomat. “Tell her I don’t know enough to speak with her.” The diplomat said something sharp, cutting Nume off. Whatever he actually told Nume, Addy doubted he’d conveyed the spirit of Conall’s words, because it turned Nume’s expression dark with unhappiness, and made her spine straighten. She snapped something back at the diplomat, which he didn’t bother to translate, and then something else, pointing toward Addy and Conall. The diplomat shook his head and answered her, but Nume cut him off and pointed again, imperiously. She and the diplomat glared at one another for a moment. He broke away first, growling, and said to Addy, “Her Highness wishes to know if she might have the very good fortune to be seated next to you at dinner tonight, for she would be well pleased to have the opportunity to get to know you better.” He bowed sharply at the waist, said, “Good day, my lady,” and turned to take Nume by the arm, drawing her away with him. Addy stared after them for a moment. “My goodness.” She sighed. “How very unpleasant.” Conall gave a choked laugh and shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it.” She glanced up at him. “No, I suppose not. What did he say about me, then?” “Gods.” Conall rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You’ll not make me tell you, will you? I mean it, it’s not fit for polite company.” 56

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Mrs. Alcott seemed distressed by the very notion. She made a low sound and pulled at Addy’s sleeve as though to lead her away. Addy shrugged her off. “Have you not noticed?” She flashed a grin at Conall. “I am only polite when I must be. Tell me, Conall. I’m fit to burst with wondering. It must have been dreadful, to make a pirate blush the way you did.” Conall crossed his arms over his chest and looked down on her in consternation. “You needn’t sound so delighted about it all.” “Well, what should I be?” she demanded. “Insulted?” She waved a hand, dismissing that notion. “It will do neither my brother nor my country any good if I take insult at something as petty as a name. But I’ve a right to know what’s being said about me, so tell me.” Conall sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He dropped it and tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling as he said, like a man giving an unwilling confession, “Cunt,” he muttered. “He called you a loud-mouthed cunt. Begging your pardon, my lady,” he added to Mrs. Alcott when she gasped in shock. When Addy burst into laughter, he startled and stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Loud-mouthed!” She beamed. “Well, I certainly am that, and if he were still here, I’d thank him for the compliment.” Shaking her head and still chuckling, she hooked her arm through his again, and resumed walking with him down the hall, letting Mrs. Alcott keep beside them. “And here you are coming to my defense like a proper gentleman. Oh, Conall, I’ve been called much worse, and most likely earned most of it. Folks don’t like a woman who speaks her mind, especially when she’s a princess.” Conall looked down on her in silence for a moment. Then he shook his head and muttered, “I’d never have expected his sister to 57

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be someone like…you.” “Luke, you mean?” Her grin stretched wider. “Because he’d sooner cut off his arm with a dinner knife than say something untoward?” Conall nodded, looking chagrined. “Well, that’s what little sisters are for, isn’t it? To blurt out all the truly scandalous stuff you’d never dare say yourself.” Conall’s brows rose as he looked down at her. A sly grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I just bet you did, too.” “Well, you know, it’s hard being a little sister,” she said airily. “Always trying to live up to an older sibling’s example. Sometimes my mouth just runs away with me, and I can’t help myself. But I always feel just terrible, of course,” she added, feigning sincerity, so that Mrs. Alcott’s aggrieved sigh was lost beneath Conall’s laughter. “Well,” he said. “You’re my kind of princess, I’ll tell you that.” Addy grinned and dipped a curtsy. Conall stopped before the door to the King’s Chambers, and turned to face her. “Thank you for your company, Addy,” he said with quiet sincerity. She rose up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “I shall stop by before supper, so Mrs. Alcott can keep us from getting up to any mischief on our way to the Great Hall, too.” Conall laughed and pushed the door open. “If you insist.” She grinned at him. “I most certainly do.”

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CHAPTER 4 Luke finally managed to extricate himself from the demands of his courtiers and the palace staff, with hardly enough time left to prepare for dinner at all. He slipped into his quarters and leaned back against the door, letting the back of his head thunk quietly against the wood. Conall came out and scanned him from head to foot with an appraising glance. “That took a while,” he said dryly. Luke shoved his hands through his hair, working his fingers deep to scratch over his scalp. “Yes,” he said, his voice terse and unhappy, despite his best efforts to keep emotion out of it. “Quite.” Conall crossed the room and offered him a goblet filled with crimson wine. The open bottle dangled from his other hand. “Here.” 59

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Luke glanced down at the cup, brows raised, and Conall said gruffly, “I figured it might, and that you’d be wound tight as a spring by the time you made it here. Thought you could use something to help you relax.” “Wine before supper?” Luke said mildly, but reached out to take the offered drink all the same. “The court would be positively scandalized.” “The court can go to hell,” Conall snapped, his expression turning livid. “It’s none of their damned business how you cope with the demands that they’ve put upon you.” “Of course it is.” Faint bitterness turned Luke’s words harsh. He pushed away from the door and strode past Conall, dropping into a chair on the other side of the room. He took a long sip of the wine, then twisted the stem of the cup between his fingers, watching the gleaming silver spin in the lamp light. “I’m their king. Everything I do is their business.” “It doesn’t have to be.” Conall came over to stand near him. Sitting, Luke had to crane his neck back to look up at him. Conall noticed and dropped down to a crouch before his chair. His fingers dug deep furrows in its upholstered arm. “You could tell them to mind their own business.” Luke laughed and drank some more from the goblet. “No. I could not. I could tell them, but they would not heed me.” Conall sat back on his heels, his brows lowered. “Well, that’s no way to rule.” Luke glanced up at him, and Conall blew out his breath on a sigh. “Lad, you don’t think my men knew everything about my business, do you? It’s not their place. They knew their tasks, and they knew they could trust me to steer them true. They don’t need 60

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any more than that.” “You ran a ship,” Luke said softly, trying to keep his words gentle so Conall would not take offense. “I run a country. It is not the same.” “It’s not so different as you might think.” “No? You can leave any of your men who displease you at the nearest dock to look for other work. What am I to do with the ones who displease me? I cannot purge the country of them. I must endure and work with them, despite it all.” He sighed and rubbed the heel of his hand over his brow, but it did little to ease the tension that was making his head throb. “And I cannot afford to speak my mind and give insult to those who I am meant to be entering diplomatic negotiations with. Conall—” He dropped his hand and looked at the other man. “What were you thinking?” Conall rocked back on his heels, his brows climbing high. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Luke checked his impatience and studied Conall’s face. “You mean it,” he muttered, and brought his hand up to his brow again. “Gods, that’s almost worse. Conall, you can’t go around insulting the people who upset you. Now they’ll be less willing to make concessions when it comes time to negotiate, and my job will be ten times harder.” He brought his other hand up, too, and pressed their heels against his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath. “I am trying to send them away satisfied despite the fact that I will not give in to their ridiculous demand that I forsake you. You are not making this any easier for me.” “You heard about that, did you?” Luke dropped his hands to his lap and stared at Conall. “You didn’t really imagine that word wouldn’t have gotten around, did you? You threatened that man—” 61

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“I did no such thing.” Conall surged to his feet. “And I sure as hell hope you didn’t hear the whole story, for I’d not have expected you of all people to criticize me for coming to her defense.” Luke raised his head. “What?” he said quietly. “Her? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” Conall snorted and shook his head. “Well, you haven’t even heard the half of it, then.” “Will you tell me?” Conall dropped into another chair and drank from the open bottle. “Your sister, lad. Addy. He called her—” Luke waited, but Conall’s mouth screwed up and he didn’t continue. Luke straightened, leaning forward. “What? What did he say about her?” “Gods.” Conall dropped his head against the chair’s back. “You’re as bad as she is, forcing me to repeat it.” The corner of Luke’s mouth turned up, but he could not summon a terribly bright smile. “A pirate unwilling to curse?” Laughter lurked in his voice. “Who would ever believe it?” Conall glowered across the distance between them. “I’ll swear all I please, but not about your sister.” “Just tell me,” Luke said softly. “I’ve a right to know what’s being said.” Conall grunted, then gave a half-laugh. “That’s what she said, too. You’re more alike than I sometimes give you credit for.” The look he sent Luke was reluctant and appraising. “A loud-mouthed cunt,” he said, like a child gulping down a vile medicine just to be done with it. “That’s what he called her, and more besides, but that was the worst of it.” Shock washed over Luke first, followed quickly by anger. His 62

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spine straightened, and his hands clenched on the arms of the chair. “He said that? To her face?” “In Ilian.” Conall watched him warily. “I don’t think he intended her to even realize that she’d been insulted. From the look on his face, it obviously never occurred to him that a pirate might have some familiarity with the saltier phrases of his language.” “Gods.” Luke leaned forward, resting his brow on his palms. “Gods damn. Now I shall have to deal with them, for I cannot let an insult to my sister stand. But we are meant to have our first meeting for negotiations tomorrow, and it will sour everything when I do. We need this to be a friendly meeting, not a hostile one.” “What’s left to be dealt with? He’s apologized, and she’s accepted. Gods know he didn’t mean it, but I suspect that fight would be a losing battle. I took care of it, lad,” he said, softer. “That’s why they’re so upset with me.” Luke lifted his head, just enough so that it was his chin propped in his hands, rather than his brow. He looked across the room at Conall. “You’ve no sense of propriety at all,” he said, his words gentle and warm so Conall would not take it for an insult before Luke had made his point. “But you’re better at this than you think you are.” He drew a deep breath and admitted, “Than I thought you would be.” “Well.” Conall sat back, nonplussed. “That’s high praise.” Luke smiled at him. “You earned it.” He watched as the warmth of his smile lit up Conall’s face. He rose, walking across the rug to where Conall sat. Conall shifted back in his chair as Luke approached. Luke climbed up onto it with him, into his lap. He spread a hand on either side of Conall’s face and leaned in for a slow, soft kiss. 63

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“Thank you,” he murmured, drawing back. “For helping me, even when I didn’t realize it.” Conall laughed softly and wrapped an arm around his back, drawing him in. “You’re quite welcome, lad, if this is the thanks I get.” Luke grinned and leaned in again, and let him curve a hand around the back of his neck, so he couldn’t move back or break the kiss. Conall’s chest rose and fell sharply beneath Luke’s hand. “There is, of course, another way to relieve tension,” he murmured against Luke’s lips, slipping the arm around his back down and snaking a hand under Luke’s shirt. His work-roughened fingers spread wide over the small of Luke’s back. The feel of Conall’s skin dragging over his made Luke shiver and press in closer. Luke laughed breathlessly. “I do not think my courtiers would approve of this method any more than they would of the wine,” he said, half-hearted protest. But when Conall slid his lips down to his throat, Luke let his head fall back and stifled a quiet moan. He slid his hands from Conall’s face, fingers gliding down his neck and over the hollow at the base of Conall’s throat. He tugged Conall’s shirt open to reveal his chest as Conall pushed Luke’s shirt up. The skin along Luke’s spine prickled at the chill that hung in the air. The sound of a knock, nearly missed beneath the headiness of Conall’s breath rasping in his ear, made Luke jump. He straightened and turned even as the door swung in on quiet hinges, and the guards admitted a maid come to announce that supper was ready. “We’ll finish this conversation later, lad,” Conall murmured in his ear as they followed the maid out. Luke shivered at the heated 64

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promise in his voice. *

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When Luke proposed an alteration to the seating plan at supper that put Nume in a position of honor directly to his right, Addy immediately claimed the seat on her other side. The Ilian diplomats protested, wanting to seat one of Nume’s attendants at her side, but when they noticed Luke watching the exchange, silent but attentive, they swallowed their complaints and took their seats. I suppose they’ve decided giving me insult once in a day is enough, Addy thought, amused. The only detriment to the arrangement was that it freed the seats beside them to be claimed by Darrin and his advisors. They crowded in close beside Conall, across the table from Addy, and looked like they had something unpleasant in mind. Luke took his seat at the head of the table, freeing the rest of them to sit as well, and servants came around to fill their glasses with wine and lay the first courses on their plates. “It’s an Ilian wine we imported,” Luke told them once their cups were full, and then said it again in Ilian for Nume’s benefit. Conall chuckled, and Luke sent him a sidelong look. “You bite your tongue,” he said with warm fondness. “Don’t you tease me.” Addy had been sniffing the pale wine, but she lifted her head at his comment and looked between the two men. “There’s a story in that, isn’t there?” Luke glanced at her, his eyes alight with restrained amusement, and he didn’t have to answer for her to know that there was. “I’ll tell you later,” he murmured. “In private.” He’d have known that that would only increase her curiosity, of 65

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course. But she subsided and sipped at her wine instead. “Oh!” She looked at Nume in surprise. “It’s very good.” Luke translated and Nume smiled at her. Addy started to ask her a question about the wine, but before she could, Darrin spoke up, declaring the wine weak and flavorless, loud enough for the Ilian delegation at the other end of the table to hear. Luke turned his attention to their cousin, cutting him off with a sharp word before he could give further insult. Addy waited, but then one of the noblemen asked Luke a question, and then another, and Addy rolled her eyes and abandoned any hope of getting a word in edgewise. They brought out course after course. Bowls of soup with a fleet of little rolls fashioned to look like ships floating on their surface that made Luke laugh and Conall look chagrined. Bouquets of flowers fashioned out of turnips and radishes and other vegetables. Platters of braised pears drizzled with wine and honey. Addy capsized her ship into her soup and watched Nume from the corners of her vision. With Luke preoccupied by everyone else’s demands and the rest of the Ilians seated at the other end of the table, she looked a little forlorn. Addy plucked up one of the roses—ivory petals fashioned from the pale flesh of a radish, stained pink along its edges—and offered it to her. A smile bloomed across Nume’s face. She took the flower from Addy and made a show of sniffing it, her eyes bright with mischief when Addy laughed. The servants came by to clear their plates and lay another round before them. Addy summoned another to refill her glass, and while her back was turned, Nume made a choked sound of surprise and distress that required no translation at all. Addy spun back toward her. There was a bite missing from one 66

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of the rose’s petals, and Nume was hastily spitting it out into her napkin, her eyes wide and bewildered, her face already flushing. “Oh, heavens.” Addy clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling not to laugh, and offered Nume her glass of wine. “You’re not supposed to eat them. They’re awful. They’re just meant to look pretty.” Nume drank deep from the wine, then passed the glass back to Addy. She carefully put the rose on the edge of her plate and gave Addy a sideways glance, the corners of her mouth turning up with amusement. Addy couldn’t help but burst out laughing, even though it attracted the attention of Darrin and his sycophants, and they frowned disapprovingly at her. “Here.” She snagged a plate from one of the servants who were coming around with the dessert course. It was a miniature tiered cake, decorated with a cascade of candied orchids that made Nume grin with delight. Addy plucked one of the confections from her own dessert and showed Nume as she ate it. “See? These ones are good.” She gestured at Nume’s plate. “Go on. It’ll cleanse your palette.” Nume broke a petal off one of the flowers and ate it delicately, then smiled at Addy. Addy picked at her own cake, watching Nume while she cut into hers. It was flavored with orange blossom, so moist and tender it melted in Addy’s mouth. Nume made a sound of pleased surprise and glanced at Addy again, startled, then took another bite, more hastily than proper manners allowed. Addy just laughed, pleased by Nume’s obvious delight. But one of the Ilian diplomats snapped harshly at her from his seat farther down the table. Nume froze and turned her head toward him. Her lips thinned to a defiant line, but she said nothing. She 67

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tucked one hand in her lap and resumed eating with slow, measured bites. “Are they always like that?” Addy shook her head slowly. “Heavens. I don’t know how you haven’t gone out of your mind.” Nume glanced sidelong at her, her gaze curious but blank. Down in her lap, where no one else could see, Addy pointed toward the diplomat and then rolled her eyes dramatically. Nume bit down on her lip, fighting a grin. With her fork, she gestured at him, and then prodded at the carved rose she’d tried to eat earlier, pushing it around on the edge of her plate with a comical grimace. Her gaze sought Addy’s, curious, as though wondering if Addy’d understood what she’d meant to say. Addy nodded and gestured surreptitiously at Darrin, sitting only a few places down the table, and then, too, at Nume’s bitter rose. Nume’s lips twitched. She ducked her head to hide a smile and glanced at Luke. She gestured to him, and shot Addy a curious look as she pointed to her cake, rather than the rose. “Oh, certainly.” Addy nodded eager agreement. “But I’m sure you’ve figured that out already, seeing as how you can actually talk to him.” Nume hesitated, then glanced at Conall, and back to Addy, her gaze questioning. “Oh, the cake. Definitely cake.” Addy pointed emphatically at the dessert. Nume smiled, her expression lightening. She nodded once, decisively, as though she’d already expected it and Addy had simply confirmed her suspicion. While the rest of the diners kept Luke occupied with their incessant stream of questions and demands, Addy and Nume made 68

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their way around the table, pointing to each courtier and diplomat in turn, discussing through gestures whether each were pleasant and good and liked, like cake, or awful and unappealing, like the hot radish Nume’d bit into. Addy made sure to take special note of the few members of the Ilian party whom Nume looked on favorably, so she could let Luke know later which of the delegates were more likely to be willing to consider compromises. When she and Nume had gone all the way around the table and were struggling to stifle fits of giggles, and the nobleman sitting to Addy’s left had been declared neither wonderful nor awful, but entirely nondescript, like the loaves of bread that had accompanied their dinner, it seemed the game was at an end. But Nume caught her by the sleeve and tugged at it to get her attention. When Addy looked back, Nume pointed to her, as they had at everyone else in turn. “Me?” Addy laughed and shook her head. “Well, I’m beautiful and entrancing, just like cake, obviously. Though I suspect most anyone else you asked would disagree.” Nume’s gaze wasn’t curious or questioning, though. It was decisive, as she pointed to Addy again, and then to her own cake. She made a gesture, holding her palm flat above the top of the miniature cake, and then lifting it high. “A big cake?” Addy beamed at her, pleased more than she’d have expected by the silly compliment. “Well, thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever not said to me.” Nume turned in her seat to face Addy more fully, and answered Addy’s smile with one of her own. She reached out to touch a lock of hair that curled by Addy’s cheek and her smile softened, warmed. Addy’s heart beat harder as she stared back. She felt flushed 69

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and warm from the wine and the conversation, and the way Nume’s eyes creased at their corners as she smiled at her, like she really meant it. Her lips were the pale pink of carnations, and they looked soft and sweet as she smiled at Addy. Addy wanted to reach out and skim her fingers over them, to see if they were really as soft as they appeared. She wanted to lean in closer and find out if it was really Nume who smelled so enticingly of orchids, or if it was just garnish on their plates. Her thick, dark hair hung over her shoulder, gleaming like silk. The urge to stroke it was irresistible, and Addy started to lift her hand from her lap before she caught herself. Addy turned away abruptly and twisted her fingers together to keep them in her lap where they belonged. But she couldn’t help glancing at Nume from the corners of her vision and wondering what it would be like to be able to touch her. It wasn’t long until the dessert course was finished, bowls of rose water were passed around for guests to wash their hands, and the dinner ended. As they all rose from their seats, Addy caught a glimpse of one of the Ilians making his way from the far end of the table, his gaze fixed on Nume. Addy caught her arm before he reached them and drew her over to Luke and Conall. Luke smiled at her as she neared. “I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Addy.” “Oh, certainly. Though I dare say we might have enjoyed it more if your attention hadn’t been monopolized through the whole thing.” Luke grimaced and looked around at all three of them, chagrined. “I’m sorry—” “Don’t be sorry.” She grinned at him. “Just make it up to me.” His brows climbed. “How do you propose I do that?” 70

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“Breakfast, tomorrow, in your chambers. Just the four of us.” “Breakfast?” He looked thoughtful. “I’m supposed to meet with the Ilian ambassador to discuss—” “Discuss it later, then. They monopolized you at dinner, it’s only fair we get to monopolize you at breakfast.” When Luke looked as though he might protest, she raised her voice to speak over him. “I won’t take no for an answer.” Luke hesitated. He glanced at Nume and said something to her in Ilian. His voice rose at the end, like a question, and she smiled and nodded as she answered him. Addy could guess well enough what Luke was going to say, even before he spoke. “Very well,” he told her. She beamed, delighted at the victory. “We’ll meet tomorrow for breakfast, just us four.” “Wonderful. I shall see you both then.” She hooked her arm through Nume’s and began to lead her away. “Come, I’ll walk you back to your rooms, before they saddle you with some odious attendant. Mrs. Alcott is little better, but at least you won’t know it.” *

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Addy woke well before any of her maids came to rouse and ready her, too restless and full of pent-up energy to linger in bed until they came. Soon she would be dining with Nume, and that simple fact made Addy’s pulse trip and speed, chasing away the last threads of sleep. And Luke would be there to translate for them. They could actually have a conversation, one that didn’t require gestures and pantomime. Addy could talk to her. The idea was thrilling. As soon as her maids had finished dressing and primping her, 71

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Addy hurried out into the palace. It was too early yet for breakfast. Addy thought longingly of venturing to the Ilians’ wing and visiting with Nume before their meal, but Mrs. Alcott would have had an apoplexy at the notion. Besides, they still couldn’t converse with one another, and the chances of finding an Ilian who would willingly translate seemed slim at best. “Damn them all to the depths of hell for sending her all this way and not teaching her how to speak with any of us,” Addy muttered beneath her breath. “Adeline! Such language.” Mrs. Alcott stared at her as though she’d never heard the words pass Addy’s lips before. Addy ducked her head and murmured an apology to appease the woman. On a whim, she turned her steps toward the king’s library, tucked into the end of the royal wing so that light poured in through the windows set in three of its walls. This early in the morning, the light was still rich and buttery, casting a golden glow over the shelves and books. It was here that Luke and Addy had played at their father’s feet as he read on topics too weighty for their young minds even to conceive of, and here where Addy had brought Luke endless pots of tea as he’d pored over his Ilian texts, mumbling to himself as he studied tirelessly to learn the language of the woman he was meant to marry. Addy remembered the books, the thick spines with gold-leaf letters, and she searched the library for them now. Surely there must have been a phrase book or primer amongst the lot of them. For all that it was a private library, it was not a small one. It took her time to search the shelves, and she came away with frustratingly little to show for it. Whatever Luke had done with his 72

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instruction books, he hadn’t kept them here. She’d only been able to find one book that had contained both Ilian and Samari, and it seemed to be a collection of romantic poems, each written down in both languages. It was better than nothing, she decided. Better than pantomime and gestures. She tucked it under her arm and hurried from the library. The search had taken long enough that it nearly would be time for breakfast by now. She didn’t want to be late. *

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The warm press of lips against his nape drew Luke from sleep. He was groggily aware of Conall behind him, pressed against his back, one arm wrapped around his waist so Conall’s hand spread low on Luke’s abdomen. Luke murmured and pressed back against Conall, and was rewarded with Conall’s quiet chuckle and another kiss along the slope of his shoulder. “Good morning, lad,” Conall murmured against his skin. Luke laughed softly and turned his head, looking back. “It is certainly a good way to start it.” “Oh, I was hoping you’d think so.” Conall’s hand slipped down his stomach. “What do you want?” Luke laughed breathlessly. “You’re the one who woke me up. Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Conall drew back and rolled Luke onto his back, the corners of his eyes creased with amusement. Luke relented. “Surely you know by now.” “I’m sure I could hazard a guess.” Conall slid a hand around Luke’s waist, down over his hip. Luke’s muscles tightened beneath his touch. “But I do so love to hear you say it.” “You,” Luke whispered, catching Conall’s lip between his 73

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teeth. “Every way I can get you. That’s what I want.” Heat blazed in Conall’s eyes. “I hope I never get used to hearing you say that, lad,” he murmured. “It’s thoroughly delightful.” Luke choked out a laugh and tugged on handfuls of Conall’s hair. “Stop being delighted and fuck me.” Conall quirked a brow and grinned down at him. “Well. You’re in quite the rush.” “I want to have my fun with you while I can,” Luke said, tugging Conall’s mouth down to his. “Before anything—” Before he could even finish the thought, there was a knock at the door. Luke sank back onto the mattress with a sigh, but Conall followed after him, still kissing him. “Whoever it is,” he murmured against Luke’s mouth, “tell them to go very far away, for a very long time.” Luke laughed and broke away from the kiss. “It is probably my chamberlain, come to prepare for breakfast.” Conall kissed down Luke’s throat and chest. “Send him away.” Luke curved his hands around the back of Conall’s head, stilling him. “He will leave, if I tell him to. But then it will be Addy or Nume interrupting us.” Conall groaned and leaned his brow on Luke’s sternum for a moment. “It is a wonder you royalty ever manage to procreate,” he muttered, and rolled off. He got up and began to dress. Luke slid out of bed and dressed as well, then wandered out to the sitting room to answer the door. It was the chamberlain, with an army of servants behind him bearing in covered platters of food, tableware and silverware and bowls of scented water to wash their hands in. They were still arranging things on Luke’s private dining table when a sound at 74

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the door made Luke turn. Nume smiled at him as she moved out of the way of a servant bearing a bowl of fresh rolls. And then she smiled at Conall, just as warm as she had Luke. “Good morning,” she said, using the Ilian plural to address them both. Luke conveyed her greeting to Conall, and grinned at the startled expression that flashed across his face. “Well, good morning right back at her,” he murmured, nonplussed. Addy came in at a half-trot, out of breath and clutching a thin leather-bound book beneath her arm. “Sorry!” She grinned unrepentantly at Luke when he raised his brows at her. “I hope I didn’t keep any of you waiting.” “No more than usual.” She made a face at him, then gestured to Nume, her expression brightening. “Tell her I brought something for her.” Luke relayed the message. Nume’s eyes widened with pleasure and surprise. “For me?” She started to reach for the book. “Is that it?” Luke continued to translate between them. Addy nodded eagerly, grinning fit to split her face in two. “Here.” She thrust the volume out toward Nume. “Look.” Nume took it from her and opened it carefully. She turned through the first two pages, then gave a startled cry. Her head snapped up and she stared at Addy, her mouth fallen open. “Oh, it is perfect. Thank you!” Addy beamed, even before Luke told her what Nume had said. It was clear enough from Nume’s expression that she was delighted by the gift. “What did you give her?” Luke asked Addy quietly. “They’re love poems,” Addy said, and scowled at him when he 75

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burst out laughing. “I didn’t have much of a selection to choose from. All your Ilian phrasebooks have been pilfered. But the poems are written in both languages, and I thought we might be able to cobble together what we want to say, if we keep it simple.” Nume was already flipping through the pages, her head bent over the book, whispering beneath her breath. After only a moment, she looked up and fixed her gaze on Addy. In heavilyaccented Samari, she said, “Thank you. Much.” Addy clasped her hands at her breast, looking as though she might burst from excitement. Abruptly, she flung her arms around Nume and embraced her tightly. “Oh, you are so welcome.” When Addy released her, Nume started chattering at her, so excited that she lapsed back into Ilian as she went on about how thoughtful the gift was and how much it meant to her to be able to communicate for herself, even if only haltingly and painfully slow. They all settled around the table, Conall and Nume at either side of Luke’s place, and Addy sitting opposite him. The servants bore away the covers that had kept the platters warm and the four of them were left alone. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Addy said brightly as she began to scoop food onto her plate, “but I intend to take my time at this meal, and enjoy the peace while it lasts. My gods, it’s like we’ve stirred up a nest of hornets every time we venture out of our rooms.” “I suppose we have.” Luke glanced at Conall. “We knew we were going to.” Conall gave him a lopsided smile, but Addy laughed. “You knew, perhaps. I thought you were coming home with a wife.” “And how sad would you be if he had,” Conall teased her, “and you missed the opportunity to make the acquaintance of such an 76

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uncouth scoundrel as me?” “Devastated.” Addy flipped her hair and sent him a wink. “I don’t know how I’ve managed all my life without a notorious pirate to offer me his arm and lead me to my rooms and scare away any who dares to insult me. We shall start a trend. Soon every mother in Samar will want to have a pirate to look after her daughter’s virtue.” Conall laughed loud and long, and sent Luke a wicked look as he did so, making color rise to Luke’s cheeks. Nume touched Luke’s sleeve, drawing his attention, and said with a teasing smile, “You are telling jokes, and not sharing them with me?” Luke shook his head. “It isn’t a joke.” He groaned. “He is teasing me, that’s all.” “About what?” She regarded him curiously. Luke just groaned again, and shook his head harder. “It’s completely inappropriate—” Her smile turned wry. “I had hoped that we, at least, might be able to dispense with concerns of appropriateness and formality. We would have been wed, after all, had things turned out otherwise.” Luke started to respond, but her words stopped him. “Would have been?” he said softly. Of course, she had acknowledged Conall during their first introduction, but he hadn’t gone so far as to imagine that she might cede the claim of her betrothal contract so readily. She ducked her head, and a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Well. On that note, there is a matter I would discuss with you, your Highness.” Luke’s brows furrowed. “I thought you didn’t wish to stand on formality. Please, you must call me Luke.” 77

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“Luke, then.” She inclined her head in acknowledgment. To either side of them, Addy and Conall had set down their utensils and were glancing back and forth between them, following the flow of conversation even if they could not understand it. “But this is a matter of state, and not to be treated lightly.” Luke set down his own utensils and sipped his tea to clear his mouth. “Very well. What is it you wish to discuss?” Her lips curved a little, a slight smile. “I’m sure you can guess. It is the matter I have sailed all this way to discuss with you.” Luke’s food turned to lead in his stomach. He steadied himself with another sip of wine. “Our betrothal, you mean.” Nume released a soft breath, almost a sigh. “No,” she said gently. “Your Highness—Luke—” She glanced at Conall, then looked back at him. “You do not wish to leave this man. I, in turn, have little desire to be wed to a man who would rather be with someone else. We would only make ourselves miserable, if we insisted upon this foolish marriage.” Luke shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. If I don’t wish to marry you, and you don’t wish to force me, then what have we to discuss?” “Our alliance, of course. One does not need a marriage to forge an alliance. What does my country care whether I sit in a throne at your side and wear a diadem upon my head? It’s not a queen that my country wants of you, in truth.” She folded her hands in her lap and met Luke’s gaze across the table. “It’s an heir.”

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CHAPTER 5 Luke stared at Nume, sitting there placidly as though she’d done no more than compliment the tea. “I’m afraid I must ask you to clarify. I can’t imagine what you mean.” He could imagine well enough, but it was impossible. Unthinkable. Nume shrugged and picked at her plate. “It’s a child they want of us, Luke. One with Ilian blood, who will keep Ilia’s interests in mind when he takes his place on the throne. Not a betrothal, not a wedding. Just a child.” “A bastard, you mean.” She glanced at Conall, then back at Luke. She raised her brows. “How exactly do you intend to get an heir between the two of you?” “I’ve time enough to decide upon that.” He waved her 79

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objection off impatiently. “I’ve not thought on it.” “Well, I am offering you a solution.” She folded her hands in her lap again, the very picture of composure. Luke stared at her, the silence stretching between them until Addy grabbed him by the arm and broke it. “Luke, what is it? You’ve turned positively ashen.” Luke shook her off, unable to tear his attention away from Nume or her preposterous suggestion. “This is what you want?” “It is what my country wants.” He gave a disbelieving laugh. “To set you up as a king’s mistress? No, that I cannot believe. It is undignified, and an insult to their pride.” “Perhaps,” she conceded, inclining her head. “Let me rephrase. It is a way to get what my country wants. Of the options available to me, it is the one I prefer.” “A king’s mistress,” he echoed, dubious. She raised her chin and met him with a gaze filled with fragile pride. “Better that than an unwelcome bride. Will you agree to this arrangement or not? It is not so unreasonable. You will keep your husband, as you want. My country will have their heir, as they want.” “And what of what you want?” he asked her softly. She rocked back in her seat, her eyes going wide with surprise. “What I want?” She recovered quickly, gathering her poise. “I want you to say yes, Luke.” “Ah, gods.” Luke scrubbed a hand over his brow. “This is— It’s madness. It is entirely unconventional—” “You have a husband,” Nume pointed out, smiling faintly. “What exactly about this arrangement is conventional?” Luke shook his head slowly. “No. I cannot. Not—not yet. Give 80

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me time to think. I think we could both use time to think on it.” Nume’s smile spread a fraction. “I have thought on it enough to know my own mind. But I’ll not begrudge you some time. It is, as you say, a highly unconventional proposition.” “Lad,” Conall growled, pitching his voice low. “What the hell is going on? If I didn’t know better, I’d think negotiations had fallen through before they’d even begun, but she’s smiling far too nicely for the words I hear coming out of your mouths.” Luke startled, staring up at the other man. “You understood that?” An awful weight settled in his stomach. “I recognized a few words.” Conall scowled. “And like I told you earlier, none of the words I know are fit for polite company.” He hesitated, his expression growing bewildered. “Gods, lad, you’re not really calling her a whore, are you?” He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I suppose it’s only fair, I’m fair sure she called you a bastard a minute ago, but even so I’d not have expected it of you.” Luke rocked back, staring at him, agape. “What? For heaven’s sake, why would you— Oh gods, no. No, we’re talking about— Bastard children. And mistresses. Gods help the whole lot of us.” Conall glanced at Nume, then regarded Luke with a wary expression. “I suppose you’d best start at the beginning, and clue me in to this conversation, then.” Luke sighed and brought his hands up to his face. He told them about the conversation he’d had with Nume, and the proposition she’d made, and he didn’t have to look at Conall to sense the tension that slid through the other man. He grimaced, expecting anger and a wholly-justified tirade. What Nume proposed was infidelity, after all. He did not expect Conall to throw his head back with laughter. 81

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Luke stiffened and raised his head, scowling. “This is hardly a laughing matter.” “No? It is, a little bit.” Conall’s face stretched into a grin. “Your princess is not so clever as she thinks. I know you, lad, and I know well enough what you like. This Ilian girl is not going to please you.” Luke’s cheeks burned like a brand. Addy choked with laughter, her hand flying up to her mouth. Conall glanced at her and his expression twisted with consternation. “Oh gods, my mouth—” “Don’t stop on my account,” Addy said, giggling. “By all means.” “It’s nothing to do with pleasure,” Luke snapped, scowling at their mirth. “Only procuring an heir.” Conall’s grin was lopsided and far too amused for Luke’s taste. He glanced at Addy, then lowered his voice and murmured, “You think you can manage the one without the other, do you?” Luke pushed away from the table. “You are taking this in stride. I had not thought about it so well at all, for it had not occurred to me that you might favor the idea!” Conall laughed again. He took Luke’s hand in his and gripped it when Luke tried to pull away. “Lad,” he murmured, still watching him with a lopsided smile. “Don’t think I like the idea, by any means. But you said it yourself. It’s a matter of progeny and heritage, not love or passion. I am a whore’s son—I am well acquainted with the notion of sex as a business transaction.” He let go of Luke’s wrists and slid his hand up to cup Luke’s jaw, tilting his face up to meet Conall’s sobering gaze. “I do not want to lose you,” he murmured. “And we all know it is the only option the Ilian delegates will offer in negotiations. If keeping you and keeping the peace means letting you get a woman with child— 82

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Well.” He eased back, letting a bit more space between them. “Gods know, I will not be bearing you any.” “Conall,” Luke chided, frowning. “This is not a matter for levity. Please, be serious.” “Oh, I am,” he assured Luke. “As serious as it gets.” His thumbs brushed over the line of Luke’s jaw. “You, in exchange for an heir? Yes. It is a barter I’d be willing to accept.” “But…” Luke drew backward, putting space between them. His chest felt much too small, his heart pounded much too hard. “No. This is madness. It couldn’t possibly work. My people—our people— They would never accept this.” “How well do you think they’d accept a king who has no intent to produce an heir?” Addy asked from the table. “That’s a nice way to throw us all into civil war. Our people will suffer if you let your country go to war because you’ve died without an heir and everyone wants a piece of the throne.” She made a low, harsh sound. “Look at what’s happened with Darrin. We had an heir, and he still tried to take the throne for himself.” “Traitor,” Luke groaned. He turned back to Conall. “And you. You were supposed to be…” He trailed off, uncertain of what he meant to say, and Conall gave a warm laugh. “What’s that? Jealous and possessive and irate?” He took Luke’s hand in his own again, and squeezed it tight. “How’s this for possessive?” he murmured. “You’re mine, lad, and I’ll not share you with another. But this princess of yours…” He glanced across the table to where Nume sat, then sighed and pressed a kiss to Luke’s knuckles. “She’s not trying to keep you. She’s trying to help us, I think. As best she knows how.” “Some pirate,” Luke muttered, chagrined. “Letting some woman waltz in and claim a share in your bounty.” 83

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Conall laughed and kissed him again, hard and firm upon the lips, despite the audience. “Well, we’ll see if it comes to that. Perhaps the diplomats will be more reasonable than we expect. Perhaps a lot of things.” He grinned. “But I still think she’s illequipped to satisfy you, lad.” *

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It seemed to Addy that the whole of the palace had crowded into the receiving hall to see what tribute the Ilians had brought with them. Crates and boxes crowded the walls, stacked high as a dozen Ilian servants rushed about trying to put order to it all, so that the elegant space seemed more like a storeroom than anything else. An area had been cleared in the center of the hall, and a few crates opened. Addy rose onto her toes, trying to peer past Luke and Conall to see the tribute as it was lifted and displayed. There were mountains of brightly dyed silks in the top of the first crate. The diplomats lifted them out, displaying gleaming, polished gems beneath, and then furs patterned so wildly that it seemed they must have been dyed, loops and whorls and stripes in shades of russet, ivory, brilliant orange, deepest black, more dramatic than any game found in Samar. A small box made everyone catch their breath, more precious than all of the larger ones combined because it was filled to bursting with precious spices from Ilia and the countries near her, glass jars filled with saffron and bundles of long, dark vanilla bean pods, curls of cinnamon bark, clusters of star seeds, more spices than Addy could even name. They perfumed the air with a heavenly scent, and even Luke’s expression, set hard and impassive so as not to reveal anything before negotiations started, 84

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seemed surprised and impressed as he set that box aside and moved on to the next. There was a box, carefully packed with hay, which bore rare Ilian orchids in bright shades of fuchsia and vermillion. Others carried examples of Ilian artwork, from painted canvases with an ethereal, dream-like quality to delicate porcelain figurines in tiny, painstakingly detailed traditional Ilian garb. There was a box of fireworks that the Ilians promised they would demonstrate some night soon, when a suitable clearing had been located, and another that bore a strange assortment of trinkets. Addy stepped in close to the box to examine them, puzzled. They seemed more like children’s toys than a princess’s dowry, little clockwork gadgets, tiny articulated men and women who bowed and curtsied and danced with one another. She picked one up, enthralled that the Ilians had managed to construct such complex mechanisms in miniature. But when she flipped open the little hinged door on the back of the figurine, she found it hollow and empty inside, limbs moving of their own volition and gears spinning on open air, connected to nothing but working all the same. “Magic,” she breathed, her gaze flying up to find the Ilians’ upon her, cool and amused. Her awed whisper was taken up by the rest of the Samari gathered around them, rippling out like waves. The Ilian diplomat bowed to her, and when he straightened he said, “They are amusements, that is all, trinkets our mages thought up to entertain your court. These are nothing compared to the feats one sees within Ilia.” Addy passed the doll to the next person eager to see the Ilian magic for himself, and bent over the edge of the box to see what other marvels it contained. Soon everyone was pressing forward, 85

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peering curiously and wanting to see the figurines for themselves. While the Ilians demonstrated the small coins that could be used to bring the trinkets to life with a touch, Nume slid forward and lifted a small, ornately-carved box from the bottom of the crate, where it had been packed in straw to protect it for the journey, and drew Luke and Conall away from the crowd. Addy left the toys to the others and followed after, curious. In the back of the hall, Nume stopped and faced them both, holding the box before her. As Addy sidled closer, Nume began to speak, and Luke glanced at Conall as he began to translate. “This is not tribute. It’s a gift.” Nume hesitated and glanced at Luke. Color rose on her cheeks as her lips curved up with a sly smile. “I meant to give it to Luke upon our wedding, but I think you will get more use out of it than we would.” Conall accepted the box from Nume, looking puzzled. “Thank you, my lady.” He bowed to her. As he straightened, he opened the box to see the gift inside. “Good heavens!” Conall snapped the lid shut and stared at Nume, color rising on his face. Addy couldn’t help but edge closer, wondering what on earth Nume might have given them that would make Conall of all people blush. Before she could reach them and ask, one of the Ilian diplomats pushed past her, stalking straight for the other three. He grabbed Nume by the arm, snarled something at her, and dragged her out of the hall, berating her with every step. Addy stared after them, blinking, then hurried over to Luke and Conall’s side. “What was all that about?” Luke shook his head slowly. “He said she was being inappropriate, and acting shamefully. He said if she couldn’t behave herself, he’d see that she was kept away from the court so 86

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she couldn’t embarrass them while we conducted negotiations.” “They’re going to lock her away?” Addy stared after them, appalled by the notion and more than a little dismayed by the prospect. “I don’t know.” His voice hardened. “But I mean to find out.” He squared his shoulders and stalked out of the hall in the direction Nume and the diplomat had disappeared. Addy watched him leave, then glanced at Conall. He was still looking in the direction Luke had gone, and still holding the box from Nume in his hands. Addy nudged him to draw his attention back and gestured at the box. “Well? What’d she give you, then? It must be good, it made you turn about six shades of crimson.” Just reminding him of it made the color rise up his throat again. He shook his head and shifted the box away from Addy. “None of your business, that’s what.” Addy narrowed her eyes and darted after him, grasping for the box. He swiveled and ducked away from her, but the more he tried to keep it from her, the more she laughed and was determined to find out what had embarrassed the pirate so thoroughly. Dodging backward, Conall stumbled against a chair. Addy snatched the box from him while he got his feet beneath himself and danced backward, holding the box to her chest and laughing at him. Conall groaned and stalked after her, scowling. Before he could reach it and take the box back, Addy flipped it open. Lying inside on a bed of velvet was a smooth silver object, cast and polished in the shape of a phallus. Addy hooted, attracting the attention of the courtiers near them. While Conall grabbed the box back from her and rolled his eyes, she sat on the edge of a crate and laughed until tears streamed 87

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down her cheeks. “Oh, Conall. I’m terribly sorry.” She wiped her cheeks and grinned up at him. “But I’m afraid I was wrong when I vowed not to like her. I think she’s marvelous.” Conall grumbled and tucked the box under his arm, looking chagrined. “Well, she’s a far cry from what I expected, too, I’ll give you that.” “You’re going to keep it, aren’t you? Luke will turn red as a beet when you show him.” Conall grinned, embarrassment fading away beneath his mischievous expression. “I’m counting on it.” *

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“It is ungodly early,” Conall said from the bed. “Where are you off to at such a ridiculous hour?” Luke glanced back at him from where he stood before the armoire, hastily deciding upon clothes for the day. A wry smile pulled at his mouth. “You ought to be able to guess.” Conall gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped down onto his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “The Ilians,” he said ruefully. “Of course. Lad, all you’ve done for a week is meet with these people, and what has it gained you?” It was true. They’d met for discussions and negotiations constantly in the week since they’d presented their tribute to him in the receiving hall and, in that time, the Ilians had done little but drag their heels and circle around his concerns. No one, not even Luke, had been allowed to see Nume, not even when he reminded them that he was meant to be her betrothed. “I’m through with their games,” he told Conall. “They can’t 88

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keep her locked away forever. I won’t stand for it, not in my own palace.” Conall sat up and dragged a hand through his hair. The sheets fell down to puddle around his waist as he straightened. Luke hesitated as he reached for a shirt, letting his gaze travel over the muscled planes of Conall’s torso. Goodness knew he’d have no chance to appreciate it for the rest of the day, and when he finally retired to bed he’d likely be too exhausted. So he took a moment now, and Conall caught him looking and smiled. “You could come back to bed,” he suggested, his voice a low purr of temptation. “There’s only one good reason to be up at this hour, and gods know, it doesn’t require waistcoats or cravats.” Luke let himself laugh, but shook his head and pulled a shirt from the armoire. “I’m sorry. I really can’t. If I don’t show up, they’ll come looking for me and then we’ll be having this meeting around the bedside.” He carried the shirt with him as he crossed to the bed and knelt on its edge so he could lean in and kiss Conall lightly. “And I doubt you’d appreciate that terribly much. So off I go.” As he tried to draw back, Conall hooked his fingers in the waist of Luke’s trousers and held him in place. “Stay,” he murmured against Luke’s lips. “What’re the guardsmen for if not to keep unwanted visitors at bay?” Luke’s skin heated beneath Conall’s touch. He laughed and twisted away, reluctantly drawing away from that warmth. “I’m fairly certain your uncle didn’t send them with us for the purpose of allowing you to keep me in bed night and day,” he said as he pulled on the shirt. When he stuck his head through the neck hole, Conall was out of bed and standing before him, looking wry and unconvinced and very naked. Luke’s mouth went dry. He 89

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deliberately turned his back on the sight. Undeterred, Conall pressed up against Luke’s back. His arms snaked around Luke’s waist, and he propped his chin on Luke’s shoulder, so Luke could meet his gaze in the mirror. “He sent them with us to do as we bid them,” he murmured, fingertips stealing under the hem of Luke’s shirt. Luke jumped at the touch of cool fingers on his stomach. “Whatever we bid them.” Luke covered Conall’s hands with his own and pulled them to less distracting territory. “I really have to go.” Conall took hold of his shoulders and turned him around. He bore Luke back until he hit the wall, then pinned him there with the broad strength of his chest. “They can wait just a moment longer.” He bent his head to Luke’s. Luke moaned at the first brush of Conall’s lips against his. He’d have agreed to anything when Conall kissed him like this. “Just for one moment,” he whispered against Conall’s mouth. He curled his arms around Conall’s neck and parted for his kiss. Conall swept into his mouth with a greedy possessiveness, staking his claim and demanding his due like a proper pirate. Luke surrendered to it, but just until his breath began to hitch. He curled fingers in Conall’s hair and tugged him back. “That’s enough.” “Sure about that?” Conall brushed his fingers along the edge of Luke’s jaw and leaned in again. Luke held him at arm’s length. “Quite.” “I suppose I’d better let you go, then.” Conall pressed in to steal one more kiss, then relented and let Luke push him back. Luke reached for his shirt, but Conall caught his hands and swept them aside. “I’ll do that. It’s only fair, since I distracted you.” Luke chuckled. “That’s very understanding of you.” Conall’s hands worked over the buttons, moving slowly up Luke’s chest. 90

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Luke fastened his cuffs and tried not to think about the constant, faint caress of Conall’s fingers, until his shirt gaped open and he stared down at Conall’s long, clever hands. “I had that half done up a minute ago.” “Did you? How silly of me.” Conall’s knuckles brushed his skin. They slid down toward his navel, then continued on even farther down. “Conall—” Conall held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, lad. How do you expect me to actually be able to keep my hands off you, though?” They were already back on him again, as though to prove Conall’s point. His hands slid up Luke’s chest, and Luke tolerated it with bemused exasperation until Conall pushed his shirt off his shoulders. The fastened cuffs caught on Luke’s wrists, pinning them behind his back. “Conall!” Conall grinned at him, unrepentant. “It’s not your best color, lad.” “If I thought for a minute that that was your real reason—” “Then you wouldn’t be half so smart as I give you credit for.” Conall moved in close, pinning him to the wall again. Luke pulled at his arms, but couldn’t get his hands up between them. Conall laughed softly and took advantage of his vulnerability, mouthing along the side of his throat. Luke’s head fell back at the feel of Conall’s lips on his skin, gently kissing and sucking. He struggled to remember that he was supposed to be leaving, not succumbing to Conall’s irresistible charms. “How remiss of me,” Conall murmured against his skin. His hands caught Luke’s wrists. “Here. Let me help you with that.” His 91

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fingers worked at the shirt’s cuffs, gently releasing the buttons. When Luke pulled his hands free, he breathed a sigh of relief that turned immediately into frustration as Conall tossed the shirt halfway across the room and spread his hands over Luke’s bared chest. “You are not helping.” Luke tried to sidle out from between him and the wall. “Aren’t I?” Conall sent him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “But I’m trying so very hard. Here, I’ll try harder.” He caught Luke as he tried to slip past, hands spreading over his waist and drawing him in against Conall. Luke drew a long breath at the feel of Conall’s body against his, strong and lean and demanding. Conall slid his hands around to Luke’s back, then down, splaying over Luke’s ass and dragging their hips together. Luke lost his breath on a soft moan. Conall ground against him and the friction was delicious, even with his clothes between them. But when Conall brought a hand around to his belly and started tugging at the button at the waist of his pants, Luke wrenched himself away and stumbled back across the room. “No,” he said sharply when Conall tried to follow him. “Conall, I have to leave.” Conall raised his hands in surrender and walked over to sit down on the edge of the bed. Luke released his breath, relieved, and retrieved his shirt. Conall didn’t do anything but watch him in silence as he pulled it on again, buttoned it up and fastened the cuffs. He slipped on his waistcoat and went in search of his boots. Conall was still sitting placidly on the bed, watching him dress. “Thank you,” Luke said to him as he walked past. Conall looked up at him blithely. “Whatever for?” “For behaving yourself.” He lingered for a moment, just long 92

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enough to lean down and give him a gentle kiss. But he pulled away before Conall grab him and try to keep him there again. He turned to get his boots from where he’d left them, lined up together at the foot of the bed, but where there had been a pair before, now there was only one, toppled over on its side. Luke frowned down at it for a moment. He was certain he’d put them both there, together. He picked up the one that remained and turned around, searching the floor. Conall watched him in silence as he made a circuit around the room, picking up their discarded clothes from the night before to make sure the missing boot wasn’t hiding beneath one of them. “Lost something?” Conall asked when Luke threw down the last garment in frustration. Luke turned and shot him a suspicious look. He came back to the bedside. Conall’s brows rose as he neared, and when Luke dropped to his knees to check under the bed, he gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, lad. Now who’s teasing whom?” He burrowed his hands in Luke’s hair and shifted toward the edge of the mattress, and Luke realized with a rush of heat that from where he was, if he just sat on his haunches a little and leaned forward, it would be very easy indeed to lick and suck and nibble at Conall’s cock. Luke glanced up at him. Conall tugged gently at his hair, urging him forward. He was already hard. Luke put a hand on his thigh and let out a soft sigh. “Is my boot under there?” “Now, why would it be someplace silly like that?” “I can’t imagine,” Luke said dryly, but when he tried to tug Conall’s hands free and duck down to check under the bed, Conall just tightened his fingers on the strands and held him where he was. 93

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Luke drew breath to protest. Before he could do more than part his lips to speak, Conall bent down and covered Luke’s mouth with his. His lips were soft, coaxing. Luke sighed and curled a hand around the back of Conall’s neck, allowing himself to lean into the kiss for a moment. When Conall pulled at him, trying to urge him up onto the bed with him, Luke sighed and sat back. “Conall. Is my boot under there?” “Could be. I can’t imagine why you think I would know.” Conall pulled his legs up onto the bed, crossing them. Luke bent and retrieved the boot from where it had been hidden cleverly behind Conall’s feet. He had to sit on the bed to pull them on, next to Conall. Conall sidled up behind him, his chest hot against Luke’s back. Luke bent his head forward to tug at his boot and Conall mouthed the back of his neck, lips and tongue sliding over sensitive skin. Luke shivered and tried to ignore it. When Conall tugged at his shirt, trying to untuck it from his trousers, Luke batted his hands away. So Conall just kept them on top of the shirt, fingertips tracing the contours of Luke’s muscles and skimming down to the narrowest part of his waist. Luke turned suddenly, kneeling on the bed facing him. He took Conall’s face in his hands. “I really have to go.” Conall nodded, but didn’t stop touching him. He slid his hands down Luke’s chest. The layers of fabric between them did nothing to stifle Luke’s reaction to his caresses. When his hands slipped down to Luke’s trousers, pressing into the erection Luke was trying very hard to ignore, he jumped. “Conall.” Conall laughed softly and stroked him through the fabric. 94

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“Why, lad, I do believe your pants are too small. Look at how they strain at the seams.” He curled a hand around the back of Luke’s neck and tugged him in for a kiss. “You couldn’t possibly show up in such poorly tailored clothes. The Ilians would die of mortification. I can’t imagine what you were thinking.” Conall slipped a hand down Luke’s stomach, past the ineffective barrier of his trousers to curl his fingers around Luke’s aching flesh. Luke groaned at the contact. “I can’t be late,” he whispered in protest, even as his hips arched, thrusting up against Conall’s touch. “Then don’t be.” Conall kissed along the line of his jaw to the tender bit of skin just behind his ear. “Tell them you’ve fallen gravely ill and it’s quite impossible for you to drag yourself out of bed.” Luke’s laughter was choked. Conall’s fingers worked over him, maddening and wonderful. “It would be a lie.” Conall made a quiet sound of amusement. With a sudden move, he straddled Luke’s hips and rolled him down onto his back. Luke blinked up at him, breathless at the sudden weight of Conall on top of him. “So tell them that you’ve been kidnapped by a notorious pirate and scoundrel who’s holding you hostage until his demands are met.” He leaned forward and caught at Luke’s lips for another hungry kiss. “That’s not a lie.” Luke chuckled despite himself. “And what demands are those, hm?” Somehow, his waistcoat was unbuttoned and pushed aside, and Conall was working on the shirt beneath it. Luke started to protest, but Conall dragged his tongue over the shell of his ear and the words came out as a moan instead. “Oh, if you have to ask that…” Conall laughed and slithered down, sucking on the skin at Luke’s collar. “Then you haven’t 95

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been paying attention.” Conall’s weight was on Luke’s legs, pinning him in place while Conall tried, again, to undress him. Luke could feel the hard press of his erection, and he knew what Conall’s “demands” would be. He slid his hands up Conall’s arms and over his shoulders with a sigh, and thought, The Ilian diplomats will be sorely displeased with me if I demand a meeting and then fail to appear. Conall’s tongue circled Luke’s nipple, long, wet, lazy strokes that made his flesh tighten into an aching nub. “Conall.” He groaned, threading his fingers through the other man’s hair. “Mmm.” Conall raised his head with a show of reluctance. “Yes, lad?” Luke’s chest heaved as though he’d been running. “You can’t make a habit of this.” Conall raised a brow. “Of what, exactly?” “This.” Luke’s hands clenched around the strands of hair. “Seducing me away from my responsibilities.” Conall’s expression brightened. “Does that mean I’ve succeeded?” “What do you think?” Conall’s grin was brilliant with victory. He swooped down and dragged Luke into ravenous kiss, sucking at his lips and scraping them between his teeth, hands tearing his shirt open so eagerly that the few remaining buttons popped off and skittered across the floor. Luke rose up off the bed and Conall pushed his shirt and waistcoat off his shoulders. “Wait.” Luke laughed, pulling at his hands, which were once again caught by the shirt’s cuffs. “Help me. I’m stuck.” 96

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Conall drew back and reached for his hands, but instead of releasing the cuffs, he bunched the shirt up in his fist and dragged Luke’s arms up over his head. Startled, Luke pulled against it, but they were securely caught. He stared up at Conall, his pulse pounding like thunder. Conall leaned down over him, grinning. “What kind of a kidnapping would this be if I let my hostage run around, free and unfettered?” He twisted the bunched shirt so that it wrapped around his fist and he could hold Luke’s arms above his head with one hand. His other he brushed over Luke’s cheek before beginning a slow, lingering exploration down Luke’s throat, across his chest. Luke’s skin prickled at the soft glide of Conall’s touch. He caught his breath when Conall rolled his nipple gently between his fingertips, tugging. Quickly, he toed off his boots and let them drop to the floor with a thud. He jerked again at his wrists, trying to free them. “Conall,” he whispered. Conall raised his head and looked down at him, his smile warm and soft. “Hm?” Luke pushed his hips up off the bed, pressing them to Conall’s. “Get these damn things off me, or let me go so I can do it myself.” Conall laughed. His hand slipped down to work at the button at the front of his trousers. “I thought you were bound and determined to keep your clothes on, lad.” “I changed my mind.” Luke arched up eagerly against his hand. “Off. Now.” Conall’s grin flashed, bright with pleasure. “Well. I am happy to oblige.” The button came free. Conall pushed his trousers down off his hips. Luke sucked in his breath at the feel of the cool air on his aching flesh, then let it out on a soft moan when Conall slid his 97

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fingers over Luke’s cock. Conall dragged his tongue over the hollow of Luke’s throat. His lips worked softly on Luke’s skin, making him shift and writhe with hunger beneath Conall’s weight. He tried to reach for Conall but was stopped again by the shirt’s restriction. Luke let out a frustrated breath. “If you’re not going to let me touch you, then I may as well have gone to the meeting.” Conall pushed up and smiled down at him. “You want to touch me?” “Always,” Luke breathed, meeting his gaze, letting his need show. “Well.” Conall helped him work his hands free. He braced himself with a hand in the mattress beside Luke’s head, looked down on him with enough heat that Luke shuddered. “By all means.” Luke reached eagerly and spread his hands over Conall’s chest. He slipped one up to curve around the back of his neck and dragged Conall’s mouth down to his. Conall’s chest shook as he sank into the kiss, stretched out atop Luke in a long line of contact from chest to thighs. Luke hooked his ankles over Conall’s and slowly arched against him so that their cocks slid against one another, skin to skin. Conall groaned into the kiss and closed his fists on handfuls of Luke’s hair, tilting his head back so that he could claim him more completely. Luke’s pulse tripped, then sped, as he rose up and matched Conall’s need with his own. When Conall broke away, they were both breathing heavy. He leaned his brow against Luke’s and kept his arms wrapped tight around him. Luke blinked his eyes open and shivered to realize that Conall’s already were. 98

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They stared at one another, so close everything was a blur, and Luke was able to watch the way Conall’s eyes widened and went dark when he thrust up against him. Conall framed Luke’s face in his hands and stared down at him, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his gaze so intense that Luke could hardly breathe. Slowly, Conall settled himself more fully between Luke’s thighs. Luke dragged his legs up, bracing his heels in the mattress so his hips were angled better. This time when Conall thrust, instead of dragging against Luke’s belly, his cock rubbed between Luke’s legs, sliding against Luke’s cock and his scrotum, and the stretch of skin beneath both that was so sensitive that Luke shoved the heel of a hand against his mouth, choking off a cry. Conall circled his fingers around Luke’s wrist and gently pulled his hand away. “Don’t do that.” He thrust again, slow and measured. “I like hearing you.” Haltingly, Luke took his hand from his mouth. He curled it around the back of Conall’s neck, holding on to him, and when Conall thrust again he cried out, short and sharp and unrestrained. Conall made a satisfied sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. He dragged Luke’s mouth up to his and growled against his lips, “Again,” and gave another thrust that hit Luke just right. Luke cried out again, louder, and it was swallowed by Conall’s sudden, greedy kiss. There was a sudden flurry of motion between them, hands gripping and scrabbling, a writhing tangle of limbs as they both fought to get closer, to get more. Conall gripped Luke by the hips and thrust against him as though he were inside him, a steady rhythm that made Luke bow up against him, shuddering, fingers clawing at Conall’s back. 99

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“Gods!” He groaned when Conall eased back for a moment and allowed him to breathe. “Conall, fuck me.” Conall chuckled hoarsely and sealed his mouth over the curve of Luke’s shoulder. He sucked at Luke’s skin hard enough to make him squirm, hard enough that it would leave a bruise. Luke smacked him on the shoulder. “Stop toying with me.” Conall laughed again. “I can’t help it, lad.” He circled his thumb around Luke’s nipple. “You’re so very much fun.” Luke growled and reared up to press his mouth to Conall’s again. He dragged a hand down Conall’s back, spread it wide over his ass. When he slipped a finger between Conall’s cheeks and brushed it lightly over his entrance, Conall’s hands clenched on him, and his kiss turned suddenly intense. “Damn it,” Conall growled as he tore away from the kiss. He pushed up onto his knees, between Luke’s thighs. Luke spread his legs wider in blatant invitation, and slid a hand down his stomach to curl around his cock while he watched Conall, kneeling above him and staring down at him like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at. “Fuck me,” Luke breathed, stroking himself. Conall groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me, lad,” he muttered as he spat into his palm and slicked the saliva over his own cock. “You’ve seduced me away from my duty. The least you can do is oblige me.” Conall made a quiet sound, a little too intense for amusement. “It’ll be my pleasure.” He circled one spit-slick finger around Luke’s anus. Luke moaned and bore down against the pressure, taking him in. Conall’s breath hissed between his teeth. He rocked his finger in 100

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and out of Luke carefully, slowly. Luke dug his teeth into the fleshy base of his thumb and fought for patience. At last, Conall drew his hand away and leaned over Luke. Luke wrapped his legs up around Conall’s hips, pulling him in. The head of Conall’s cock pressed against him, urging him open, so much more intense there was no comparison. Luke threw his head back and moaned, his fingers curling into Conall’s shoulders. Conall worked into him slowly. Luke was eager, but Conall was not small, and it took time and patience to ease him open enough that he could easily take Conall’s full girth. The muscles in Conall’s arms stood out so sharply that Luke could have traced the lines between them as Conall worked his way into him. He rocked against Luke with short, sharp little nudges that made Luke groan and clench around him, aching for more. At last Conall was fully seated in him, and Luke could take no more. He paused as they were for a moment, joined deeply, his hips pressed tight to Luke’s. He rocked out, almost withdrawing completely. Luke braced his hands on Conall’s shoulders, aching with frustration but knowing what was to come. Even so, when Conall drove into him with a single powerful thrust, sheathing himself completely in Luke’s ass, Luke rose off the bed with a shuddering cry, grasping and straining at Conall. “Again,” he breathed. Conall rocked out and drove into him once more. The pace they set was a driving one, insistent and demanding. Flesh slapped on flesh with every thrust, mingling with Conall’s grunts and Luke’s strangled cries. Luke pumped his hand over his own shaft, driving himself toward release. Conall curled an arm behind Luke’s back, holding him close. 101

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His breath rasped against Luke’s ear. Sweat made his skin sticky against Luke’s. The long, deep thrusts became shorter, sharper, grinding their hips together. Luke tightened his fist around his cock to match, and dug his teeth into his lip to stifle the noises Conall drew from him. Heat washed over him like water, making his skin prickle, making his body tighten. “Now,” he breathed, and Conall dragged Luke’s mouth to his as the wave crested within him and all was bright, vivid sensation. The thunder of his pulse in his ears like the roar of waves, the sublime feel of Conall’s hand dragging over his skin, the shudders that rippled through Luke’s body like an earthquake, leaving him limp and shaken in its wake. Luke’s hand was sticky with his semen, his stomach a mess from it. He made a face at the mess, but wrapped his other arm around Conall’s shoulders and clung to him as the other man continued to thrust into him, desperate now, shuddering and groaning with each stroke. Luke held him tight as Conall’s breath grew strained and labored. His shoulders heaved. Luke pressed his lips to Conall’s cheek, tasting the faint tang of his sweat, and felt the first convulsions wrack through him, moments before Conall groaned and locked their hips together. For the space of a few moments, there was only the out-of-sync rhythm of their gasping breaths and the heavy thud of Luke’s heart. Luke was content to hold him, licking the faint salt of sweat from his lips. Conall stirred first, turning Luke’s face toward his with a gentle touch to the side of his jaw. “There, now.” He smiled down at Luke. “Tell me that wasn’t better than some dull meeting with a bunch of blowhards.” Reluctantly, Luke let an answering smile pull at his lips. “You 102

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can’t do this every time I have to meet with someone, you know.” Conall looked affronted. “Says who?” Luke laughed and slid out from beneath Conall so he could retrieve his clothes. “Or maybe I’ll just have to start getting up earlier.”

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CHAPTER 6 Addy had done nothing all week but suffer through endless lessons and lectures in deportment, and meals spent seated next to one Ilian diplomat after another in which she was expected to be witty, charming, and well-behaved. She couldn’t bear the thought of another hour spent at some man’s right hand, smiling and laughing and swallowing every true opinion she might have. As the morning went by and midday neared, and with it the prospect of another meal spent courting the Ilians and pretending she wasn’t sick to death of all of them, it became too much to bear. The walls of her rooms seemed to press in on her. She threw open her bedroom window, toed off her shoes, and climbed out onto the slate roofing tiles, where no one ever dared follow her. The city stretched out before her, the long winding path of the 104

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Great Road threading its way through the hills beyond the palace gates. A breeze disordered her hair, throwing strands of it across her face. Her maid would have had fits to see her work ruined so thoughtlessly, but Addy just brushed the hair away and grinned fiercely. She felt like she could breathe for the first time in a week. She sat on the roof, her back against the wall, where she could hear the sounds of palace life drift up from the grounds far below. A horse whickered somewhere out of sight, and occasionally the breeze carried a cry or the clang of a bell up from the city below. She drew a deep breath of the fresh, clear air, and listened to the city and palace life go on without her. She hadn’t seen Nume all week, not even at meals. When Addy had tried to visit her in her rooms, she’d found Ilians stationed outside the doors, and they’d refused her access. They’d even refused to pass on any messages to Nume for her. Not even Luke had been allowed to see her, and Addy would have expected that if they’d make an exception for anyone, it would have been the man they all wished to wed her to. Frustration formed a hard knot within her chest. Nume hadn’t seemed like the sort to take to being sequestered away and told how to behave any better than Addy did. Addy would have dragged her out and away from all of them, if it hadn’t been for the men guarding her door. She twisted, looking back at the window behind her, and laughed softly. Guards on the door, yes. But would they think to guard Nume’s window? The palace staff very well might, but the Ilians, who knew nothing about her or her childhood exploits? There was a chance she could gain access that way, and a chance was all she needed. It was certainly a much more interesting prospect than spending all her lunch having to play nice with some 105

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Ilian diplomat she didn’t know and didn’t care to. Addy pushed up to her feet, balancing carefully on the slate shingles, and picked her way carefully across the roof. She retrieved her shoes from inside her room, tied the laces together and slung them over her shoulder, leaving her feet bare for a better grip. Just beyond the limits of her rooms, the roof made a sharp turn, following the corner of the wing. Addy eased around it, watching where she placed her feet. When she came around the corner and lifted her head, she froze at the shadowed shape up ahead, sitting at the roof’s peak. She’d never before encountered another person up here, had thought herself the only one willing to risk the court’s censure and disapproval, much less the danger of it. As she drew nearer, though, she saw it was Conall, sitting bent over with his forearms braced on his knees, his head in his hands. She let out a breath of relief. “You’re as much a fool as I am,” she called to him, grinning when his head jerked up. “Don’t you know you could slip up here, and fall and break your neck?” He relaxed when he saw her. “If I can keep my feet in a crow’s nest in forty foot seas, I doubt a stable rooftop’s going to get the best of me.” She made her way over and sat on his window ledge. “Hiding from someone?” He glanced sideways at her, his expression closed off. “What makes you say that?” She shrugged with one shoulder and looked out at the clouds stretching across the sky. “It’s why I come out here, usually.” He grunted and admitted, “Perhaps I am, at that.” He gestured over his shoulder, toward the rooms inside. “Not a one of you has 106

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ever learned the meaning of privacy, I swear. There’s always folk coming and going as they please.” He sent her a sardonic glance. “I thought out here, at least, I might not be disturbed.” “Well, I certainly didn’t mean to do that.” Addy rose and brushed off her skirt. “It’s true enough that solitude can be hard to come by in the palace. I’ll not steal yours any more than I already have.” “No, wait—” Conall groaned and rubbed a hand over his brow. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please stay.” Addy sat and swung her legs, drumming her heels lightly against the wall. He still seemed like he had something on his mind, so she waited, and at last he spoke. “It’s not so much that I want to be alone, I suppose. But the company I wish to keep is always denied me.” “Ah. Luke’s the problem, is he?” Addy sucked on her lower lip. “What do you know of our father, Conall?” He gave a half laugh and shook his head. “I’m Rannan. I know a great deal more than you’d like me to, I wager.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and considered her for a moment. “Perhaps a great deal more than is truthful.” She grinned. “And our mother?” He blinked at her. “Nothing at all,” he said at last, softly. “Was she very much like you? Or was she a typical lady of the court?” Addy laughed. “Oh, more like me, I suppose, though she was more tactful about it. She knew the role she was supposed to play, as a woman and as queen, and she knew how to convince all who saw her that she was as graceful and soft-spoken and gentle as they could wish her to be. But she knew it was just a role, just a face she put on for the court. We all did, Luke and our father and I. In private—oh, she made her voice known, I assure you. And our 107

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father…” She was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Our father was very much like Luke.” “Maddeningly devoted to his duty?” Conall asked dryly. Addy shot him a slight grin. “Oh, that’s a trait Luke’s picked up all on his own. But he did work himself to the bone, or would have, had it not been for our mother. She put her foot down all the time and made him rest, made him spend time with her, with us, doing things other than ruling.” Conall laughed a little and shook his head. “If I tried to tell Luke to do such things…” “I’m sure he’d moan about it just as much as our father did,” Addy said. “But I’m sure he’d heed you, too.” Conall gave a short laugh and shook his head. “You think so? I think you give me more credit than I deserve.” But there was something uncertain in his gaze, some hesitation that made Addy wonder if he wasn’t as certain of that as he sounded. “He will, if you make him. He won’t do it on his own.” She leaned over and touched his knee, to be sure she had his attention. “You must make him,” she told him firmly. “Our mother died of a fever, a few years ago. After we lost her, my father…” She sighed, remembering his bone-deep grief, and the way he had drawn in on himself, and shut both of them out when they had also been hurting. “We couldn’t get him to step away from work the way she could. He wouldn’t listen. He worked through the night and hardly slept. For all my life he’d been strong, but he worked himself to exhaustion. That’s why he fell ill.” She leaned her head in her hands, pressing her fingers to the corners of her eyes as grief rose in her, as fresh as ever. “That’s why he died.” Conall was quiet for a long moment after she’d finished speaking. At last he said, “I’m sorry, Addy.” 108

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She lifted her head and looked at him. His gaze was dark and solemn. “It’s too late for our father,” she said quietly. “But not for Luke. You must see to it that my brother doesn’t follow in our father’s footsteps, and drive himself into an early grave.” He nodded once, sharply. “I will,” he promised her. “I’ll tie him to the bed if I have to.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a dark, wry smile. “At least then I’d have something to occupy my time.” “Haven’t you asked for a task to do? I can’t imagine there’d be any trouble finding a job for you, if you’re bored. There’s always work to be done.” “I did.” Conall’s expression darkened. “They told me I could minister to the sick, out in the city, or distribute alms to the needy. It’s not the sort of work I’m looking for.” “They what?” Addy stared at him, her jaw dropping. “Oh heavens, Conall. Someone’s been having a laugh at your expense. Those are a queen’s duties.” She blew out her breath and got to her feet. “Come on. Come with me. We’ll find you something to do.” She rose and edged out along the roof again. “There’s a guest room down here that no one’s using at the moment. We can climb in through there.” Conall glanced sardonically at his open bedroom window. “Because gods forbid you and I be seen leaving my bedroom chamber together. Lead on, my lady.” “If you call me ‘my lady’ again,” she said sweetly, “I shall push you off this damned roof.” She heard him laugh behind her. “My apologies.” The window was closed when they reached it, of course. Addy peered through the gap between the panes. It was dark within the room, no lamps lit because there was no reason to light a vacant 109

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guest room. But she could faintly make out the latch, a darker shadow against the dark of the room. Conall started to speak behind her, but she waved him to silence and pulled a pin from her hair. She worked it into the gap between the panes and flicked it up. It took a few tries, but then the pin caught on the latch and lifted it from its hook. The window swung open. Addy pulled both panes wide and sat on the ledge. Conall was staring at her, his expression somewhere between chagrin and bemusement. Addy laughed and slipped into the room. “He must not have told you anything about me at all,” she said. “I’ve been picking locks since I was tall enough to reach them.” Conall grinned at her through the window. “Highness, you are my kind of princess.” *

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When supper was over that evening, Addy laid her hand over Nume’s and stopped her before she could rise to be ushered back to her rooms. The Ilians scowled at Addy, but she ignored their unpleasantness and smiled at the other princess. “I would be honored to show your Highness around the palace gardens, if you’d like. They’re incredible this time of year.” Nume looked at one of the diplomats and made a sharp gesture. They exchanged brief, heated words that Addy didn’t have to know the language to recognize the tone of. The diplomat sent Addy a dark look, then his gaze slid past her, to where Mrs. Alcott stood, attentive and waiting. His lips thinned, and he said something briefly to Nume. He must have conceded and translated Addy’s request, because Nume’s face brightened. She nodded quickly and began to say 110

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something in Ilian, then glanced at the diplomat again and cut herself off. She drew herself up and faced Addy squarely. In labored, broken Samari, she said, “Yes. I will do this. I like it. Yes, please.” Addy pressed a hand to her mouth, gaping in surprise and delight. “Well! You’ve been busy this week, haven’t you?” She beamed. “That’s positively brilliant.” Nume’s expression looked vaguely confused, but it wasn’t blank the way it had been before when being spoken to in Samari. After a moment, her expression cleared, and she nodded. “Yes. I…learned. The book— I read. Very much.” “Marvelous!” Addy refrained from clasping Nume’s hand in hers, but only because they stood under the watchful gazes of Mrs. Alcott and the Ilian diplomats. “Shall we go?” Nume nodded and they rose. She took a step toward Addy, but one of the diplomats held an arm out, barring her way. He gave Addy a hard stare. “You cannot expect us to allow her to wander about unaccompanied.” “But she isn’t. I’m accompanying her. As is my chaperone.” Addy gestured over her shoulder with her chin. “You’ll find none better.” Addy could hardly believe it possible that the day had come when she’d be grateful for Mrs. Alcott’s presence. The Ilian looked Mrs. Alcott over with a sour expression, but she only raised a brow and met his gaze evenly. “I would not allow anything to happen to her on my watch, of course.” “Of course,” the diplomat agreed, though he seemed somewhat reluctant about it. “But you understand, I’m sure. She is our responsibility. If anything were to happen—” “Accompany us, then,” Addy suggested brightly. She caught Nume’s hand and drew her down the hall before anyone could 111

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voice another pointless protest. “But I would be remiss as a hostess if I didn’t show her the flower gardens.” He sighed pointedly but voiced no more protests, and he and Mrs. Alcott fell into step behind Addy as she led the way to the gardens. After only a moment, Addy reluctantly released Nume’s hand, self-conscious of the witnesses who followed behind them and the idea that Nume might feel like she was being led around like a child. Nume glanced sideways at her when she let her hand slip free, but said nothing. A little while later, though, as they stepped out of the palace and made their way to the gardens, she glanced back over her shoulder at Mrs. Alcott and the diplomat, then shifted marginally closer to Addy as they walked. Her fingers brushed the edge of Addy’s hand with each step, then the palm, then slipped casually into hers as though it had been nothing more than accident. Addy looked down at their clasped hands, then up at Nume. Heat flushed over her face, down her throat, and erupted into a flush all over her skin. Her hand felt sweaty, clasped together with Nume’s, but Nume curled her fingers tighter and didn’t seem to notice. She smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up, and Addy found herself transfixed by the curve of her lips, their fullness, the pale flush that turned them the most delicious shade of pink Addy had ever seen. Addy tore her gaze away, her heart pounding as though she’d run all the way around the palace grounds. “This way.” She cleared her throat. The season had grown late enough that nearly all the flowers in the gardens were in bloom, perfuming the air with their heady fragrance. Riotous colors spread out before them like an artist’s 112

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palette, bright crimsons and delicate, pale yellows and every shade and hue in between, all backed by the deep, lush green of the foliage. They walked leisurely while Nume took in the flowerbeds and Addy enjoyed the simple pleasure of Nume’s fingers wound through hers, clasping lightly. Mrs. Alcott and Nume’s escort kept a pace behind them, so Addy was almost able to convince herself that they weren’t there at all, and she and Nume walked alone. Nume paused by a flowerbed that had been planted with tall, willowy orchids, their heads bobbing in the gentle breeze. She crouched down to look at them, reaching tentatively with her free hand, but stopped herself before she actually touched them. “My grandfather’s father had those planted,” Addy said softly, as she realized why they had caught the other woman’s attention. “They were a gift from the Emperor of Ilia. From your grandfather’s father, perhaps.” There was a stretch of bare earth beside them, already turned over. Addy wondered if the gardeners meant to put the plants that had come with Nume’s tribute there beside the others. Nume shot her a quick smile at the name of her country. She nodded and spoke a word Addy didn’t understand, and carefully curled her hands into her lap. Her face, though, was filled with yearning. Addy tucked her skirts between her knees to keep them out of the dirt and crouched down, reaching out for the orchids. Nume made a soft sound as she plucked one of the flowers from its stalk. Her expression turned soft and wondrous when Addy held it out to her. The petals were a vibrant pink, as vivid as a sunset, and Addy said, “It would suit you very well, with your coloring.” Nume haltingly took the orchid and held it cradled in her palm, 113

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staring down at it as though it were a precious gift that she didn’t know what to do with. “Thank you,” she breathed, and though she stumbled over the words, there was a wealth of emotion in her tone. Addy hesitated a moment, then reached out and picked the flower up again. She reached, slowly, so that Nume would not be startled by her sudden nearness, and tucked the flower behind her ear. It nearly glowed, bright against the dark curtain of Nume’s hair. Addy smiled as she sat back. “There. I wasn’t wrong. It’s almost as pretty as you are.” Nume’s gaze flickered, and Addy wondered if pretty had been neglected in her love poetry primer, or if Nume had understood what she’d said after all. Addy couldn’t tell by her response. Nume smiled softly at her and reached up to brush her fingers over the flower. She squeezed Addy’s hand and said something softly in Ilian before rising and turning to continue down the path. Her fingers laced through Addy’s again, as easily and naturally as if they belonged there. Addy decided that she didn’t give a damn about their chaperones. Perhaps they’d cluck their tongues and shake their heads in disapproval when they noticed their linked hands, and then she and Nume would have to release their grasp, but Addy was determined to claim as many moments like this as she could. She wandered the paths with Nume, allowing her to choose their direction. She watched the way Nume’s attention flitted from one flowerbed to another, taking in everything. They stopped in the rose garden and Nume plucked a flower. She held it out toward Addy beneath her nose, so that its delicate fragrance filled her every breath. Addy smiled. “Yes, it’s lovely.” She gave the rose back to her. 114

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“You keep it. I can pluck roses from our gardens any time I like.” When Nume didn’t look like she understood, Addy repeated more firmly, “You. It’s for you.” Nume laughed, her face bright, and shook her head. She touched her other ear, as though to say, Two flowers in my hair? No. It would be much too ridiculous. She held the rose out again. Addy took it reluctantly and tucked it behind her own ear. The brush of delicate petals against her skin made her feel young and foolish, reminding her of when she’d run about the palace in crowns woven of flowers as a child. “Thank you,” she murmured, touched, and kept her head ducked as they continued walking. Shortly, they came to a little square with a burbling fountain, and Nume veered away toward a wrought-iron bench that overlooked it. Addy followed, presuming that she wished to stop and enjoy the fountain, and Mrs. Alcott glanced at them and seemed satisfied by the same conclusion. She lingered on the opposite side of the path, close enough that they were still in her sight, but not so close as to prevent them from enjoying the tranquility of the fountain. Addy settled down onto the other side of the bench, but she started guiltily when Nume rubbed at the soles of her feet with a pained grimace. “Oh heavens, I’m sorry. Would you like to go back?” she asked Nume softly, pointing toward the palace. “We’ve walked a fair way already. It’s no wonder I’ve tired you out.” Nume glanced in the direction she’d indicated, then back at Addy, shaking her head quickly. “No. No, please.” The movement made her flower fall loose and tumble down to the ground. Addy slipped off the bench and crouched to retrieve it, 115

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kneeling on the cobbles. Nume bent toward her, and Addy tucked the flower behind her ear again. The orchid was in place, caught securely behind Nume’s ear, but Addy couldn’t make herself move. She turned her head, looking for Mrs. Alcott and expected to find herself caught by the other woman’s sharp gaze. But kneeling as she was, and the way Nume had bent toward her, they’d ducked below the tops of the rose bushes and for the moment, at least, it granted them the illusion of seeming as though they were alone. Nume’s dark hair was sleek and cool against Addy’s fingertips, thick, heavy, falling to frame her face like a curtain, so different from Addy’s froth of unruly curls. Addy couldn’t help but take advantage of the moment to stroke her fingers through it. It felt as luxurious as silk or velvets. She thought, Just once, and then I’ll keep my hands to myself, and rise and sit with her, and perhaps Mrs. Alcott won’t notice, and Nume won’t mind that I was so forward. But she’d barely had the thought when she was already reaching again, sliding her fingers deep, to where Nume’s hair was as warm as her skin. It seemed impossible, but Nume didn’t draw away or wave her off. Nerves jumped about in Addy’s stomach, reminding her of how close their chaperones were and how swiftly the Ilians would drag Nume away if they were caught like this. But Nume echoed Addy’s caress, brushing back a curl that had fallen against Addy’s cheek. When her fingertips grazed Addy’s skin, Addy covered Nume’s hand with her own and forgot about everything but the other woman’s touch. It seemed an eternity and yet no time at all that they remained like that, leaning close but barely touching. Addy couldn’t bear it. Her fingers tightened in Nume’s hair, just a little, and she rose up 116

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onto her knees and pressed her lips to Nume’s, crouching low in the lee of the bushes where no one else could see them. Addy’s pulse pounded like a drumbeat, frantic and hard. The fact that Nume didn’t push her away seemed to be a miracle. Her hand slid up beneath Addy’s hair, fingers curling around the back of her neck. Addy could taste Nume’s breath on her lips. She ran her tongue over them, seeking it. Nume made a small sound in the back of her throat and her lips parted, her tongue grazed Addy’s. “Oh,” Addy breathed against her mouth, a small sound of surprise. Her hand clenched in Nume’s hair and Nume slipped off of the bench, kneeling with her, arms sliding around her. Addy pursued Nume’s tongue into her mouth, taking the kiss deeper, knowing nothing but how much more she wanted. Nume’s hands pressed against the small of her back seemed like firebrands. Her tongue stroked Addy’s, caressed, explored, eager and curious. Addy broke away first, unable to bear any more of the sweetness of Nume’s kiss without giving them both away. Nume leaned her brow upon Addy’s shoulder and kept her hand curled loosely around the back of her neck. The petals of the orchid brushed Addy’s cheek. “Oh, heavens,” she whispered, easing her arms around Nume’s waist. Just for a moment, she thought. Then I’ll let her go and we’ll sit and no one will be any the wiser. Nume’s fingers gently stroked her nape, sending shivers all through her. A lock of her hair fell over Addy’s shoulder, and Addy ran it through her fingers quietly, thoughtfully. When Nume straightened, Addy released her and put her hands in her lap, because she didn’t trust herself not to reach out again. Nume pressed her lips to Addy’s and Addy thought she was done for all over again. But it was only a brief kiss, and then Nume rose to her feet and reached down to help Addy to hers. Addy took her 117

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offered hand numbly, still reeling. She brought a hand up to her mouth, pressed fingers to her tingling lips. Her skin felt flushed, warm, prickling beneath even the gentlest of breezes that stirred through the gardens. “My goodness,” she murmured, her gaze tracking after Nume as she put a little space between them. “If I’d known to expect anything like that, they’d never have kept me away for a whole week.” *

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“Lad.” Conall’s voice was scarcely more than a breath against the back of Luke’s neck. “Don’t move. Not a sound.” Luke tensed. “What is it?” Conall exhaled sharply. “Shh.” He rolled Luke onto his back with a hand on his shoulder and pressed him down as he climbed out of the bed. Luke sat and swung his legs off the bed, watching as Conall prowled across the bedchamber and stopped at the door. He pressed his ear to it, waited. Dread curled through Luke’s stomach. He pushed the blankets off and got to his feet, but Conall saw and gestured him back sharply, frowning. Like hell, Luke thought, drawing his shoulders back. He crossed the room, his feet silent on the thick rugs, and came to stand near Conall, listening. Conall glanced at him, his lips thinned with displeasure. Luke met his gaze silently and held it until Conall released a sharp sigh and pressed his ear to the door again. Luke couldn’t hear anything. When Conall moved back toward 118

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the bed, he released his breath and thought that Conall must have decided that there wasn’t anything worth being alarmed about after all. His relief turned to cold fear when Conall bent, retrieved his sword from beneath the bed, and carried it back to the door. Conall put one hand on the door’s handle and glanced at Luke. Luke moved back automatically, standing close against the wall behind Conall. Nothing’s out there, he thought, his heart racing. He’s just being careful. Our guards are stationed at the door, and they know not to let anyone in. There’s nothing, of course. Don’t be ridiculous. Slowly, Conall eased the door open. Luke half expected to see the light from some intruder’s lamp spill across the floor, but there was nothing. Just the same thick darkness that cloaked the bedroom. It might have hidden any number of dangers. Then, at last, Luke heard something. A faint sound, like a scrape. He stiffened, but before he could even think of moving or speaking, Conall was already in motion, bursting into the receiving room with his sword at the ready. Luke followed after him cautiously, stepping through the doorway but keeping his back against the wall. He could see at a glance that there was no one there, but he could hear the noises better now, the sounds of scuffling and voices raised in outrage coming from just beyond the door. Conall moved fast as a snake, striding across the room and pulling the door open. Luke couldn’t make out anything past him but a flurry of motion and the unmistakable sounds of men fighting. Conall threw himself into the fray with a growl that made the 119

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hair at Luke’s nape stand on end. He moved toward the door, unable to help himself. Conall would tell him he was an idiot and he should have retreated from the threat, not advanced toward it, and he’d probably be right. But Luke couldn’t hide while Conall was out there fighting gods-knew-who on his behalf. One of the Rannan guards groaned, and the other gave a sharp cry of alarm. Conall swore violently. The sharp slap of running footsteps retreated down the hall. Luke pressed forward, stepping out through the doorway. The guard held his arm out, trying to keep Luke back. “Inside, Sire,” he growled, but Luke shook his head. Farther down the hall, someone was running. Conall was close behind and catching up. He lunged, throwing himself at the other man and sending them both tumbling to the ground. One of the guardsmen rushed down the hall to help him, while the other pushed at Luke, trying again to force him inside. “Stop it.” Luke shoved his hands away. “I’m not going back in there. Not until—” At the other end of the hall, Conall got to his feet while the guard hauled the other man up and began dragging him back toward them. Blood dripped down his face from his brow. Luke stared at him and gripped the door frame, feeling ill. “Conall! Are you all right?” Conall lifted his head and met Luke’s gaze. He wiped at the side of his face, then grunted when his hand came away smeared crimson. “Bastard slammed my head against the tiles,” he growled. He looked at Luke again, and his brows lifted with realization. “Lad, I’m fine. All I need is a washrag.” Luke let his breath out on a rush. “Of course you are. If you weren’t, I’d have to wring your neck myself.” He released his grip on the door and stepped out into the hall, coming to stand before 120

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the other guard and his captive. “Who are you?” Luke demanded. “What are you doing here?” He spat at Luke’s feet, earning himself a cuff upside the head from the guard, but said nothing. Conall pressed forward with a low growl that made Luke shiver. “Let me talk to him. I’ll get answers, I promise you that.” “No.” Luke raised a hand, holding him back. He turned to look at Conall and sighed. Blood still trailed sluggishly down his cheek, dripping onto his collar. “Throw him in a cell. We’ll deal with him in the morning,” he told the guards. To Conall, he said, “You hit your head. You need to let me look at that.” Conall scoffed and tried to brush by him. “Lad, I told you. It’s just a gash.” “It’s a head wound,” Luke snapped. “And you’ll go back in there and let me look at you, or I’ll tie you to the chair.” Conall’s brows flew up. He gave a startled laugh and shook his head. “Now where have I heard that before?” “I meant it then, and I mean it now.” Luke caught the eye of the guard. He gave a sharp nod and dragged the intruder away. Satisfied, Luke turned back to Conall and spread a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him back into the bedroom. “Go. Sit down. There’s water in the basin. I’ll help you clean up.” Conall sat in an armchair in the receiving room while Luke retrieved the basin from the bedchamber. He watched with a faintly bemused expression as Luke knelt beside him and soaked a rag in the basin. “The last time you had me like this, you let your maid poke holes in me,” he grumbled, but he said it with a grin. Luke smiled up at him. “I’ll go get her and let her do it again if you don’t behave.” Conall let out a long breath, and his smile faded with it. He 121

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looked down at Luke with an expression haggard with fear. “Luke. That man—” “Nothing happened.” Luke rose and wiped up the trail of blood on the side of Conall’s face with the rag. “I’m fine. That’s what the guards are for.” “You are very cavalier about this.” “I’m not. I promise.” He pressed the rag to the gash on Conall’s brow. The other man hissed and tried to draw away, but Luke kept it in place. “I’m sure he meant me ill, and I’m sure he wasn’t acting on his own. I’m not stupid.” “I’ll throttle your damned cousin,” Conall growled, his hands curling into fists. Luke shook his head. “He’s not behind this. Someone else is. Someone much cleverer than Darrin. Perhaps that man will be able to tell us who.” He caught Conall’s eye, held it until he was sure that the other man was looking at him. “But not tonight.” “You think you’re going to stop me, do you?” The corner of Conall’s mouth turned up in a dark smile. “I think we’re going to go to bed,” Luke said, drawing Conall up to his feet and guiding him backward into the bedroom. “And I’m going to keep you there until I’m sure that he didn’t knock your head around hard enough to scramble your wits.” Conall lifted his brows. “How do you propose to do that?” Luke rose up on his toes and kissed Conall before he pushed him down onto the bed. “I’ll think of something.” *

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*

In the morning, one of the guards went down to retrieve the prisoner while Luke and Conall dressed. In moments, he came 122

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bursting into the chamber again, his face red. “He’s gone,” he growled. Luke’s hands stilled on his buttons. “What?” “Damn it!” Conall snatched up his boots and shoved his feet into them. “What the devil do you mean, gone?” The guard’s expression set with grim resignation. “He’s not in his cell, sir.” “They might have moved him—” Luke started, but the guard cut him off with a quick shake of his head. “No, Sire. I checked. He’s not in another cell. He’s not there.” His gaze jumped from Luke to Conall and back again, as though he couldn’t decide which of them was more likely to direct their anger onto him. “Gods,” Conall snarled. “I knew I should have dragged the truth out of him last night.” He stormed out of the chamber and down the hall while Luke followed after. The guards hurried to keep up with them both. While Conall prowled through the palace’s cells, throwing the doors open and snarling each time he failed to find their prisoner, Luke regarded the Captain of the Guard with crossed arms. “This place is under your command, Leyburn. How did this happen?” Leyburn bowed deeply and shook his head. “A thousand apologies, your Highness. I wasn’t on watch last night. I’ll question my men, you have my oath. I’ll find out what happened.” “How the hell does a prisoner just disappear?” Conall snarled, stalking back to join them. Leyburn took a quick step back and regarded Conall with what Luke took to be alarm. He blinked rapidly, then turned back to Luke, his spine stiff. “I’ll find your answers, your Highness. I 123

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promise.” Luke nodded once and turned to ascend the steep flights of stairs to the palace’s main floors, and the daylight. He heard the swift beat of Conall’s steps catching up behind him. “Lad. Luke.” Conall caught him by the arm and stopped him in the middle of the stairs. Luke turned at met his gaze. Conall’s was fraught with concern. “What are you going to do?” Luke shook his head and pulled gently out of Conall’s grip. “What I must. I have a meeting scheduled with the ambassador this morning—” Conall grabbed him again, staring, his lips flattening as his nostrils flared. “You don’t mean to act as though this hasn’t happened. As though there isn’t some lunatic who wants you dead out there, gods-know-where…” “Some lunatic has wanted me dead since before we set foot on Samari soil,” Luke said quietly. “But I can’t stop ruling my country just because we don’t know who it is. I have the guards.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “I have you. I am well protected.” Conall’s expression darkened with displeasure. He turned and scowled down at the Rannan guards as they tried to come up the stairs behind him. “You’re not to let him out of your sight,” he growled. “Not for an instant, unless I’m with him. Do you understand me?” The guards nodded gravely, and they all continued upstairs. The skin down Luke’s spine prickled as he walked through the halls. It took all his force of will not to constantly glance over his shoulder, or jump at shadows. It was true what he’d told Conall, that little had changed between the first attempt on his life and this latest. But that did 124

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little to ease his mind. For the first time in his life, he was grateful to have the guards as a constant presence at his side.

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CHAPTER 7 The slate tiles on the roof of the palace were slick with dew, but it was all worth it for the stunned look on Nume’s face when she opened the shutters and saw Addy crouched out there, grinning at her. “What?” She gaped at Addy, then bent far out over the casement to look at the ground far below. “You are mad!” Addy sat on the edge of the sill. “That’s the prevailing opinion. But I thought we might go for a ride today, just the two of us. Mrs. Alcott hates horses and would never agree to chaperone us, and gods know, your countrymen will scarcely let you smile at me without someone to stand over us and make sure it isn’t improper, so we’ll have to make an escape of it.” She gestured over her shoulder, toward the stables that were little more than a tiny shape 126

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in the distance. “What do you say? Shall I be a bad influence?” Nume’s brows furrowed a little as Addy spoke, and she tipped her head to the side as though puzzled. Addy figured she probably hadn’t understood half of what she’d said, as a generous estimate, but when she gestured toward the palace grounds, Nume dug her teeth into her lip, then grinned and nodded. Addy waited on the windowsill while Nume rushed about, finishing dressing and pulling on her shoes. When she was ready, Addy rose and offered Nume her hand to help her out through the window. Nume hesitated as she tried to get her feet beneath her on the slates. Addy tightened her grip on the other woman’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” Slowly, the tense concern on Nume’s face eased, and she returned Addy’s smile. She nodded, drew a deep breath, and stepped away from the window. Addy led her across the roof, hugging close against the gables for the extra sense of security they provided. When they reached the end of the wing and the roof turned the corner, however, Nume balked at being so exposed, shaking her head, her face tight with fear. Addy came back. She laced her hand together with Nume’s, and brushed the backs of her fingers against Nume’s cheek. “You’re safe,” she murmured. “I promise. But we can go back, if you want to.” Addy’s reassurances didn’t chase away her concern so quickly this time. Nume chewed on her lip and cast an anxious look at the ground far below them. “Safe?” she echoed quietly. Addy nodded. “I promise.” Nume glanced between Addy and the ground a few more times 127

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before she squared her shoulders and gave a sharp nod. Addy held on to her hand, helping her work her way around the corner. When they’d safely reached the next gable, Nume pulled her hand from Addy’s and sat in the shallow corner formed between the two sloped roofs. “Very bad influence,” she said, laughing, and pressed her laced fingers against her mouth. A wry smile pulled the corners of Addy’s mouth up into an answering grin. “Oh, you understood that part, did you?” She climbed up the roof and sat beside Nume, pressed in closer than she might’ve otherwise dared so that she could brace herself against the gable roof to keep from slipping. Nume glanced down at where their hips pressed together, then looked back up at Addy. Her smile faded away, and her throat jumped as she swallowed. Addy drew a deep breath. She could feel the warmth of Nume’s skin through her silk dress, and she was abruptly aware that they were alone up there, with no chaperones or diplomats looking on. Nume shut her eyes when Addy touched her cheek, then opened them. She looked at Addy and leaned forward, pressing their mouths together. With a moan, Addy buried her hands in Nume’s hair and pulled her in hard. Nume gasped against her mouth and curled a hand around the back of Addy’s neck. She shifted, turning to face Addy, half-climbing up into her lap as she pressed in close. Addy tried to catch her breath as more of Nume’s weight settled onto her, and Nume’s skirt hitched up to reveal the smooth curve of her calf and the back of her knee. She’d barely drawn a breath when Nume cupped her hands along Addy’s jaw and probed curiously into her mouth. Addy curled her fingers in Nume’s hair and drew back. She 128

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leaned her brow against Nume’s, breathing hard, her pulse pounding against her breast. “I think that had better be the last of that,” she murmured unsteadily. “Or I’m likely to send us both tumbling to our deaths.” Color rose bright on Nume’s face. Her smile was shy but mischievous as she brushed her hair back from her cheeks and slid off of Addy’s lap. She got to her feet and sent Addy a sidelong glance full of light and wickedness. “Go?” Addy let her breath out slowly and got to her feet. “Yes, I think we’d better.” She smoothed her hands over her skirts to keep them steady. “Before I can think of a reason not to go at all.” They finished traversing the length of the roof, where Addy unlatched the shutters of another unused guest room, which they sneaked across cautiously in the dark. Addy ventured out into the hallway first to ensure that it was empty, and when there was no one around to notice or stop them, she motioned Nume to join her and they hurried through the halls before any chaperones or attendants could intervene. They stepped out of the palace and into the dawn light. The morning was still cool, the air chill with a fading hint of dew upon it. Addy slipped her hand into Nume’s as she led the way to the stables, but when they neared and Nume saw the horses milling about in their pens, she stopped abruptly, shaking her head. Her eyes flew wide, white all around the edges. Addy returned to her side, putting herself between Nume and the horses. She skimmed the backs of her fingers over Nume’s cheek until she looked at Addy instead of the horses. “You’re afraid?” Addy asked quietly, but the answer to that seemed obvious enough. “Don’t you ride, back home?” “Ride?” Nume’s brows furrowed. She shook her head. “No. In 129

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Ilia— No. No one.” “Goodness.” Addy’s brows shot up at the revelation. “No one at all? How curious.” She gestured over her shoulder, toward the stables. “Do you want to see them? They’re very sweet, I promise.” Nume chewed on her lip and glanced at the horses reluctantly. “Big,” she muttered. Addy covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “They are that. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She held her hand out. “Do you trust me?” She wasn’t sure that Nume’s love poetry primer would have covered vocabulary like trust, but Nume looked at her hand, and then looked Addy in the eye, and she seemed to get the idea. She drew a breath, squared her shoulders, and placed her hand in Addy’s. Addy smiled at her and gave her fingers a brief squeeze. She led Nume into the stable, moving slowly so Nume could take her time and wouldn’t feel rushed. When a mare stuck her head out over the stall door and lipped at Nume’s hand, she jumped and pressed back against the far wall. Addy let Nume keep her distance. She slipped her hand free and stepped in beside the horse herself, petting her mane and the side of her neck, letting Nume see. When the horse sniffed at her hand for a treat, Addy laughed and stroked her nose. When Addy reached out to Nume, she stepped forward reluctantly and took her hand, but Addy could tell she was still nervous. She only put her fingers on Addy’s, a light touch, as though she were poised to flee at any moment. Addy thought, with just a few minutes of coaxing, she could have had Nume stroking the horse’s neck, too. But before she had 130

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a chance, a stable hand led a massive stallion into the stable on a lead rope. The color drained from Nume’s face, and she pulled away from Addy, pressing her back against the stable wall. Addy caught Nume’s hand and drew her down the hall into the tack room, out of the way of horse and stable hands. “There now. You see?” She wrapped her arms around Nume and leaned her chin on the top of Nume’s head. “Those bastards, sending you all this way when you can’t ride, and you can’t speak the language, and they keep you under lock and key more like a prisoner than a princess.” Nume’s hands settled onto the small of Addy’s back. Addy raised her head and realized abruptly how close they were standing. Her pulse tripped at the sudden realization, heat washing through her at the feel of Nume’s body pressed to hers. Nume blinked up at her. In the dim light of the tack room, the black of her pupils expanded to swallow her irises. The tip of her tongue peeked out between her lips and slid along them. Addy’s gaze caught on it, followed it as it traced the lines of Nume’s lips. She leaned in just a little, without meaning to, but held herself back. This was hardly the place to give in to her attraction, nor the moment. There would be time for kissing later, she scolded herself, when Nume wasn’t scared out of her wits. As she started to step back, Nume’s hands tightened on her. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Addy’s. Addy forgot about retreat, and leaned against the wall once more. Nume’s lips parted eagerly beneath hers. Addy slid her hands up into her hair and tilted her head to find a better angle. Nume’s tongue swept into her mouth, seeking, stroking. Addy’s stomach shivered at the sweet caress, and she pulled Nume in harder against her, pressing together from chest to thighs. 131

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Addy broke away, swallowing a groan, and leaned her brow on Nume’s shoulder, listening to the out-of-sync cadence of their quick, shallow breaths. Nume touched her cheek, gently lifted Addy’s head and stroked her fingers along the sides of her face, looking at her with a warm gaze. Addy stared back at her, feeling as if her heart were twisting into a knot. All she wanted was to be able to speak freely to Nume, and to know what she had to say in turn. It seemed like a simple enough thing, or at least it should have been. She wanted, more than anything, to be able to ask what Nume was thinking, when she gazed at Addy like that, so soft and wondering. To find out if it was anything like the joy and terror and awe that pushed at Addy’s breast, so strong she thought she might burst. The sound of the stable hand passing by just outside the tack room made Addy draw back reluctantly. “Heavens,” she breathed, watching Nume as she straightened her gown out and brushed at her skirt, wanting nothing more than to draw the other woman into her arms again. “What on earth am I going to do with you?” *

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As soon as Addy had seen Nume safely escorted across the rooftops and back to her rooms, she went in search of Luke. She expected to find him in his bedroom, still waking and readying for the day, but the absence of guards stationed outside the door seemed to indicate otherwise. After a short search, she found the guards standing at attention before the King’s Chamber, their expressions stony and severe. “Good morning,” she greeted them as she reached for the door, but faltered halfway through the words when they moved to intercept 132

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her. The smile faded from her face. “Isn’t Luke in there?” She glanced up into their faces. They hadn’t been this way around her since Luke had told them to allow her to see him whenever she came. “I just want to ask him something. I won’t be but a minute.” They didn’t answer her, only stood in her way, stony and silent. “Luke,” Addy called, raising her voice to be heard through the door. “Call off your men, will you?” Muffled sounds came from within, then the door swung open. Luke stood on the other side, looking disheveled, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He glanced at the two guards, then sighed. “She’s my sister. Let her in.” The guards parted, and Addy followed Luke inside. Conall was sitting in an armchair against the wall, looking no less haggard than Luke. He gave her a tense smile and dragged a hand through his hair when she greeted him. Frowning, Addy settled onto the edge of another chair while Luke took his own seat behind their father’s desk. “Is everything all right?” she asked quietly. Luke dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Did you need something, Addy?” “I wanted to talk to you about riding lessons for Nume. I wanted to take her on a ride this morning, but the way she reacted, I half suspect she’s never even seen a horse, much less ridden one. And with the Royal Hunt coming up…” “Yes, of course.” Luke leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “It sounds like a fine idea.” Addy’s lips twisted with a wry smile. “Well, I’m not concerned about that. I thought maybe if you gave your official approval, those damned Ilians might not insist on tagging along with us.” 133

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“I’m sure if you brought Mrs. Alcott—” She blew out her breath. “Mrs. Alcott won’t come near the horses. And those diplomats have their eye on Nume from the minute she wakes up until she turns the lamp down at night, and probably while she’s sleeping as well. She could use a few minutes out from under their gaze.” Luke frowned, rubbing his thumb along the furrow between his brows. He made a thoughtful sound, but before he could say anything, Conall leaned forward in his seat, grinning in a way that made Addy think he was up to no good, and she answered with a grin of her own. “What about your maid, lad?” he asked, raising one brow. “The one from the ship?” Luke’s frown deepened, then cleared. “Mrs. Ginnings? She’s not a chaperone, she’s my valet’s wife.” Conall’s grin widened. “Seems to me she made a very fine one, all the same.” Addy shot him an amused glance. “How good can she be? She let you two get together right under her nose, didn’t she?” Conall winked at her as Luke blushed. “Well, that’s rather my point. Or would you rather have someone else just like Mrs. Alcott?” Addy shuddered dramatically. “No, thank you. I’ll ask Mrs. Ginnings.” She braced her hands on the arms of the chair to rise, but something in the glance that Luke sent Conall made her pause. It seemed weary, strained, more so than it had been even the day before. She hesitated, still sitting, and frowned at him. “Luke, whatever is the matter? You aren’t looking well at all.” Luke shot her a guilty look, then grimaced and shook his head. “It’s nothing. And you must excuse me, I must prepare for my 134

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meeting with the ambassador later—” “Oh, for the love of the gods,” Conall growled, making Addy jump and Luke scowl. “Somebody has to tell her, lad. If you won’t do it, I suppose it falls to me.” He looked at Addy. “Someone tried to sneak into our rooms last night.” Addy stared at him. “Who was it? You—” Her gaze shot to Luke, then back to Conall. “You’re both all right?” Conall’s smile was lopsided and rueful. “We’re fine. And we don’t know who. We threw him in a cell last night, and this morning when we went to talk to him, he was gone.” “But…” Addy swallowed down her instinctive protest, That’s not possible. Not so long ago, she’d have said the same thing about one of their own trying to hire a Rannan pirate to kill Luke, too, but that was clearly not so impossible as she’d have thought. Neither was this. Horrible, terrifying, appalling, yes. But not, unfortunately, impossible. “What are you going to do?” she asked on a whisper. “He could be…anywhere. Anyone.” She drew her knees up to her chest, bracing her heels on the edge of the seat and wrapping her arms around her calves. “Damn Darrin. If this were your court, we’d better be able to tell if there were anyone new milling about. But everyone’s new, now. I don’t even know half of them.” “Yes,” Luke agreed grimly. He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and sighed like the weight of the world had just settled onto his shoulders. “I’ll have to find my courtiers, and soon. It will help to have people at my back I know I can trust.” Conall growled and shot to his feet. “For heaven’s sake, Luke—” Luke glanced at him, startled, then grimaced. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You know I trust you with my life.” 135

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Conall strode across the room and sat on the edge of Luke’s desk. He pressed his fingers to Luke’s mouth, silencing him. “Be quiet, lad. That’s not what I’m talking about.” Luke blinked at him. His lips moved against Conall’s fingers. Addy couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was, it made Conall groan and shake his head. “This is what I mean. You’re already doing too much, and driving yourself to exhaustion with it. Now you want to try to track down some wayward courtiers, as well? No.” His expression hardened. “You’re doing too much already. If you try to do everything yourself, you’re going to drive yourself into the ground.” Addy bit her lip, remembering her warning to Conall, and said nothing. Luke pulled away from Conall’s touch so he could speak. “What am I supposed to do?” he demanded. “I need them here. This isn’t just about support, it’s protection. Right now…” He shook his head. “I may sit on the throne, but the court belongs to Darrin. I have to make it mine again.” Conall blew out a sharp breath and scowled at Luke. “It’s not keeping you safe that I have a problem with, lad. But you can’t take this on yourself, too. Delegate, damn it. You’re surrounded by people who would like nothing better than to do your bidding. Make use of them.” “I can make a list of the people who’ve left court since Father died,” Addy said before Luke could come up with a protest. Conall glanced at her, smiled briefly, and gave a nod. He turned back to Luke. “And I will set about trying to locate them.” Luke sat back in his chair, frowning up at Conall. “You don’t know any of them.” “I’ll find them,” he growled. “So you can leave off fretting 136

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about that, and worry about the things that need your attention. This isn’t one of them.” Luke just looked at Conall. At first he seemed startled, and then, slowly, chagrined. “Well,” he murmured. “If you insist.” Conall didn’t return the smile. “I do.” He straightened and turned. As he started for the door, he caught Addy’s eye. “Let’s go talk about that list, shall we?” Addy scrambled to her feet and after him. “Absolutely. Thank you, Luke.” She waved to him over her shoulder, and shut the door behind her. Outside in the hallway, Conall stopped and stood for a moment, his shoulders tense. He blew out a sharp sigh and relaxed all at once, bringing a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair. Addy circled around to stand in front of Conall and smiled up at him. “You’re good for him. I can tell.” Conall gave a choked laugh and shook his head. “I hope so.” He started walking. Addy fell into step beside him. “In any case, it will be good to have something to do at last.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “What’s this about a hunt? It’s the first I’ve heard of it.” “Oh, the Royal Hunt. It’s not a real hunt, not really. Not anymore. It’s mostly ceremonial.” She grinned up at him. “But it is fun, and it’s an excuse to get out of the palace and breathe some fresh air for an afternoon. You should come. I already have one pupil, what’s another? I’ll teach you both.” Conall started to reply, then stopped and frowned down at her. “I should come to the lessons, you mean?” His spine stiffened. “I know how to ride.” Addy bit down on her lip, trying not to smile. “Well,” she said after a moment, her tone careful and guarded. “You know how to 137

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sit in a saddle and not fall off, it’s true. But I’ve seen you on a horse. You could use some instruction.” Conall stopped walking and shot Addy an affronted look. “What the hell’s wrong with my riding? I got here, didn’t I? All the way from the shore, on horseback, without any incident.” Addy glanced up at him through the curtain of her hair. “Ever jumped a horse over a fallen log at a canter?” Conall stared at her as though she’d grown a second head. “Why on earth would I want to do that?” She laughed. “Well, it’s an awful lot of fun, for one thing. For another, you might need to, during a hunt. Even one that’s a hunt in name only.” Conall made a face. He seemed much less enthused by the idea of the hunt now that riding lessons were on the table. “What’s the point of this fake hunt, anyway?” “It’s not fake. It’s ceremonial.” She brushed her hair back behind her ears and kept a proper distance between them as they made their way down the palace hall. “It used to be a real hunt, ages ago—this was before our father’s time, even—when the king would go out and hunt a white hart, to prove his strength and cunning. And when he brought it back, it was supposed to prove that he was a worthy king, and would lead our country to greatness.” She shrugged. “No one’s seen a white hart in our forest in generations, of course, so now it’s just the tradition of the thing, and because it’s fun to spend the day on horseback, out in the forest, away from all this.” She waved a hand, gesturing to indicate the palace in general. Conall grimaced. “I’d rather have a ship under my feet any day.” Addy danced ahead and turned around, facing him and walking 138

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backward down the hall. “Let me teach you to ride. If you want, in exchange, you can teach me how to sail, in one of our boats out on the lake.” Conall’s brows lifted with surprise, and his expression brightened. “Well, now. I suppose I wouldn’t mind a few afternoons spent on horseback, after all.” He reached his hand out. “You have yourself a deal, Princess.” Addy clasped his hand in hers, and they shook firmly. *

*

*

Luke was sure it couldn’t have been more than five minutes since lying down when he woke again, though the faint light beyond his window proved it was somehow morning. He rolled onto his back and rubbed the grit from his eyes, groaning. Conall shifted beside him and muttered a heartfelt oath beneath his breath. “Gods.” He scowled at the steel gray sky outside the window. “What is the point of arranging these meetings so god-awful early in the morning?” “It’s the only time available.” Luke’s words slurred with exhaustion. He forced himself to sit up, but it took a tremendous effort. “I’ve got meetings all day.” He dragged himself out of bed and across the room to light a lamp, though his limbs felt as though they weighed twice what they should. He could feel Conall’s gaze follow him. He fumbled with the flint, trying to strike sparks onto the lamp’s oil-soaked wick, but his fingers slipped. On his second try, he struck the flint but not hard enough to make it spark. He swore beneath his breath when it slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the floor. “Gods, lad.” Conall sat up in bed and was watching him. “Look 139

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at you. You’re exhausted. Come back to bed, get some more sleep.” Luke shook his head and scooped the flint up from the rug. “I have to be at this meeting.” “Reschedule,” Conall said, his voice as hard as the flint stone in Luke’s hand. “For when, exactly?” Luke turned to stare at him. “There’s no time.” Conall made an unhappy sound low in his throat. He got out of the bed and walked over to Luke. “Look at you.” He sighed and ran his hand over Luke’s hair. “How many hours of sleep did you get last night? One? Two? It’s not enough. You’re running yourself into the ground.” His fingers curled on the ends of Luke’s hair. “I’ve been watching it, ever since we landed on Samari soil. What good does it do me to have married you, if you’re just going to work yourself into an early grave?” He blew out a sharp breath. “It’s one day. Just one. It can’t matter that much. Stay here, sleep, let me take care of you.” Luke was already starting to respond, to refuse, but the last made his words still in his throat. He raised his brow. “Take care of me?” He couldn’t have been more shocked if Conall had expressed the sincere desire to tie on an apron and cook him breakfast. Conall pressed his lips together, his expression turning dark. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d take care of yourself.” “Conall…” Luke stared at him, dismayed by the unhappiness on his face, frustrated that they were having this argument again, and too bone weary to deal with either. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t. You go ahead and go back to sleep, but I have to go.” Conall’s features settled into an even harder expression. Luke 140

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sighed and leaned his head in his hands, hating that he was making Conall so unhappy. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t neglect his duty just to please Conall. The bed creaked as Conall got to his feet and crossed the distance between them. “If you think I’m going to send you off at the crack of dawn while I climb back into bed, you’ve lost your mind. I’m coming with you. But we’ll do this my way.” Luke lifted his head and blinked at Conall, wavering between suspicion and overwhelming relief. “What does that mean?” “Nothing, lad.” Conall kissed him lightly on the lips. “Get back in bed and sleep for a few more minutes. I’ll get your clothes ready for you.” Luke blinked again, then smiled at him sleepily. “Are you going to be my valet now, too?” Conall softened and returned the smile. “Not quite, lad.” He gave him a gentle push toward the bed. “Go on. Get what rest you can. I think I’ve picked up enough of court fashion in the weeks we’ve been here that I can keep from completely embarrassing you.” “I trust you,” Luke told him. And he was so exhausted that he climbed back into bed and slid beneath the blankets without any protest. He shut his eyes and let himself relax, dimly aware of the sounds of Conall moving around, opening and closing doors, moving to the bed and away and back again. He must have fallen back to sleep, because the next thing he knew was Conall’s hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him as the bed dipped sideways beneath his weight. “Wake up, lad. Time to put your things on.” Luke pushed his hair out of his face and ran his hands through it, scratching at his scalp. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, 141

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then circled around Conall to see the clothes that he’d laid out. They were all folded in a neat pile at the end of the bed. On top of the clothes was the intricately-carved box that Nume had given to Conall from the tribute. Luke gave Conall a puzzled frown as he picked the box up. “What’s this for?” Conall grinned. “I want you to wear that, too.” “But what—” Luke opened the box and fell silent at the sight of the object within, long and gleaming silver and very obvious what it was intended to be used for. “Gods, Conall. You’re mad. I’m not wearing that.” Conall raised his brows. “You said you would.” “You said clothes. You didn’t say anything about…this.” He tilted his head to the side, watching Luke with an expression that glittered with mischief. “What’s the problem, lad?” “It’s absurd.” Luke threw the box down on the bed. “This is a very important meeting, and—” “And you’ve got nothing at all important to do in it except keep your cousin from misbehaving.” Conall snaked an arm around Luke’s waist and drew him in. His teeth nipped at Luke’s lip. “You’ll be bored to tears.” “I will not—” Conall’s hand slipped down to curve over Luke’s ass. His tongue slid over Luke’s lip, right where he’d bitten. “You’re so tense lately. I can’t remember the last time I saw you relax.” Luke reared back and stared at him. “You think something like that is going to make me less tense?” Conall grinned. “I think it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun, is what.” He drew Luke in toward him until Luke had to widen his stance, straddling Conall’s thighs. Conall continued to pull him in until 142

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they were pressed together, Luke’s chest against his, their hips pressed together. “Do this for me, lad,” Conall murmured as he guided Luke’s mouth down to his for a slow, seductive kiss. Luke lost the ability to speak when Conall began to stroke his hands over Luke’s ass, kneading and rubbing gently. He relaxed with a shuddering sigh and leaned in against Conall, returning his kiss. Conall cupped a hand around the back of Luke’s neck and held him in place while he slid his fingers between Luke’s cheeks and brushed over the ring of tight muscle at his entrance, swallowing his moan. Luke’s body never failed to respond to Conall’s touches. He relaxed, opening for Conall as Conall worked him with the slight, rocking pressure of a fingertip. It was hardly any penetration at all, but it still made him rock back instinctively, driving himself onto Conall’s finger. Conall worked himself deeper slowly, methodically, stretching Luke open. Luke kissed him deeply and tried not to whimper, tried to hold still despite the need that Conall’s every touch aroused within him. When Conall began to work a second finger in, sliding it in beside the first, Luke pressed his brow to Conall’s shoulder and groaned. It was already too much. How was he meant to survive more of this? Sweat broke out across his skin. He moaned and pressed back against Conall’s fingers eagerly, and shuddered when Conall began to work a third finger in beside the first two. Conall gave a husky laugh and bit at Luke’s lips as he moved his fingers inside him, a slow rhythm of thrust and withdrawal. When he shifted, Luke’s eyes flew open and he clutched at Conall, afraid he meant to stop. But Conall just smiled and kissed him and 143

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opened the box that Nume had given them. “Gods,” Luke groaned, leaning his cheek against Conall’s shoulder. “You are mad.” “Perhaps.” Slowly, Conall withdrew his fingers. Luke gasped at the sudden sensation of emptiness. The sensation of that device pressing against him in their place, too cold to be a finger, drove a choked cry from him. He shuddered all over as Conall slowly worked it into him, twisting, bearing in deeper. It was no bigger around than Conall was, but it was harder, more solid. Luke choked off a gasp and pressed his hands to his mouth, whispering, “Conall. Gods,” through his fingers. “Shh, lad.” Conall stroked Luke’s back. “Am I hurting you?” Luke shook his head frantically, overcome by need. “No, you— I— Gods!” Conall worked it in a little deeper, and a little more, until Luke had taken its whole length and it was seated fully within him. His muscles clamped down around it, and Luke rocked against Conall helplessly, thrusting against his stomach. He leaned in, seeking Conall’s mouth for another desperate kiss. Conall braced his thumbs against the edge of Luke’s jaw and kissed him once, briefly, but then held him back. “You’d best get dressed, lad, or you’ll never make it on time.” Luke stared at him. “You’re not serious.” Conall raised a brow. “You thought I wasn’t?” “I… But…” Luke throbbed with need, aroused beyond bearing by Conall’s touches and the undeniable presence of the device within him. “Conall. Don’t be cruel.” Conall grinned. “Is that what you think this is?” He kissed Luke again. Luke leaned into the feel of Conall’s lips on his, but it was gone before he’d even had the chance to enjoy it. 144

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“I thought it was a very important meeting that you couldn’t possibly miss.” “I… It is… Damn it.” Luke shoved himself back, away from Conall. But even that movement made it shift, and he froze as another wave of arousal crashed over him. “Gods. Please,” he whispered. Conall laughed and rose. He closed the distance between them. “Oh, lad. This is going to be so very much fun.”

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CHAPTER 8 Conall was right about one thing: the meeting was anything but boring. Luke couldn’t help but dwell on the feel of the artificial cock within him, the way it moved whenever he shifted, whenever he breathed. The urge to rock back against it, to shift it intentionally, to fuck himself on it and claim the maddening promise of pleasure, was surely too much for any man to bear. His cock was hard, had been hard ever since they’d left his rooms, and it throbbed with the need for a touch. He kept his hands on the tabletop, away from temptation, and fought to keep still. He tried to appear attentive as the Earl of Canleigh argued that if the Ilians were allowed to ship in their goods without an additional import tax, his farmers would be unable to sell their crops. There was no warning at all, no chance to prepare or brace 146

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himself when the thing inside him abruptly came to life, shuddering and vibrating within him. Luke nearly flew out of his chair, his mouth opening on a soundless cry. But Conall reached out and covered Luke’s hand with his, stilling him when he was only halfway onto his feet. He said nothing, but he met Luke’s gaze and gave his fingers a brief squeeze. Slowly, fighting to breathe evenly, Luke sank back into his chair. Sitting like that only magnified the vibrations within him, and he barely managed to swallow a moan. He stared at Conall, unable to tear his gaze away, searching his face for some explanation. Conall only grinned, and turned his attention back to the earl. He flipped a coin across his knuckles. It surely must have seemed to everyone else like nothing more than a restless tick, harmless fidgeting. But Luke stared at the flashing coin and recalled with sudden, brutal clarity the day they’d revealed the tribute, and the coins the Ilians had used to bring their magical trinkets to life. “You bastard,” he breathed, too low for anyone but Conall to hear. Conall’s gaze flickered down and he smiled as though to himself. He squeezed Luke’s hand again, then let it go. “Sire?” the earl said. Luke dragged his gaze from Conall and realized with a sickening feeling in his stomach that everyone was looking at him, waiting for a response to something he hadn’t even heard. “I— What—” His cheeks burned, embarrassment mingling with the unrelenting pleasure that already had him flushed and breathless. “I’m sorry, I…didn’t catch that. What did you say?” Canleigh sighed and repeated the question. Through sheer force of will, Luke kept his attention on it long enough to provide him with an answer. 147

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When the Ilians gave a reply and Canleigh’s attention turned back to them, Luke let out a quiet sigh of relief. Conall glanced sideways at him and smiled. He made some small movement with his hand and the device stilled. Luke nearly swayed, pressing his fingertips against the table’s surface. He felt like he’d been drowning and had finally broken the surface, wanted to gasp for air and slump into his chair with relief. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t, that he must be still and calm, that there were people here watching him, and some of them were just waiting for him to slip up and make a mistake that would give Darrin an edge in his bid to keep the throne. Even if he did, Luke thought darkly, sinking back into the chair would only make the thing shift within him again, and then he’d have to moan, and once he’d started he’d never be able to stop until he’d had his release. Conall shifted in his own seat and the vibrations started up again. Luke stiffened, every muscle in his body drawing tight. He glared at Conall. Conall smiled back blithely and folded his hands around the coin, tucked them beneath his chin as he leaned forward, feigning interest in Canleigh and his crops. Luke could have smacked him. The thought of having to endure hours more of this torment was impossible to contemplate. His body shuddered, tightening around the infernal device, his cock as hard as an iron rod, so swollen it was painful. Every nerve in his body was focused on the sensations the device sent rippling through him, ignited by it. He hardly even heard what was going on around him, though he struggled fruitlessly to keep his attention focused on what needed it. The moment he thought he’d reached a point of balance, where he could ride the waves of pleasure coursing through him and still 148

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keep half his mind on the meeting, Conall would switch the device on, or off, or Luke would make a thoughtless motion that moved it inside of him, and it all slithered out of his grasp again. Finally, mercifully, the meeting ended. Luke thanked them all as they rose and gathered their things, but remained sitting, waiting. He feared he might give himself away if he stood, and that thing shifted inside him again. Everyone seemed to move with excruciating slowness, taking the opportunity to talk with one another as they made their way out. It was intolerable, and Luke couldn’t bear it a moment longer. He caught Conall by the hand, murmured, “Excuse us,” to the noble who had been trying to say something to Luke about the rising price of wheat, and dragged Conall through the door in the back of the room. As it swung shut behind them, darkness closed in around them. Conall gave a half laugh and pulled a little against Luke’s hold on his hand. “My goodness. Have I addled your brains that much? This isn’t the way out. This is—” There was a quiet scuffle, a scrape. “What is this, a storeroom?” “Conall, you’re a son of a bitch,” Luke said, “and if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never speak to you again.” There was a beat of silence, and then a breath of laughter. “Oh, well, we can’t have that.” Conall moved in, so close Luke could feel his warmth. He shook off Luke’s grip and framed Luke’s face in his hands as he bent down. “Not when you like to say such pretty things.” Luke grabbed fistfuls of his hair and jerked Conall’s mouth down to his. He staggered back until he came up against one of the crates, filled with stores of parchment or ink or sealing wax, whatever supplies he might need while conducting business in the 149

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adjoining room. He hitched himself up onto it, dragged Conall with him. “Now,” he growled against his mouth. Conall gave a husky laugh and started pulling at Luke’s trousers. “I rather like you this way, lad.” He dragged his mouth down Luke’s throat. Luke let his head fall back, gasping as he lifted his hips so Conall could slide the pants off. “I am never letting you do this again,” he said. “So you’d best enjoy it while you can.” His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. He could see Conall grin down at him. “Don’t think that I won’t.” “You’re taking your time about it.” Conall laughed again. “How very rude of me. I most humbly beg your pardon.” He drew Luke forward to the edge of the crate, and dropped down to kneel on the floor before him. Luke’s cock throbbed as Conall wrapped his fingers around the base and angled it so his lips slid over its head. Luke gasped and buried his hands in Conall’s hair again. It was such a simple caress, and it felt like fire. His hips bucked, pressing against Conall’s mouth. He groaned when Conall parted and let him in. Conall’s mouth was hot, slick, wet. A shudder went up Luke’s spine as Conall swallowed him, took him deep and didn’t make him wait. Luke groaned and thrust into his mouth. Conall slid his hands up Luke’s stomach, under his shirt and waistcoat to stroke over his chest. He found Luke’s nipples, circled them and pinched them between his fingers. Luke tightened his hands in Conall’s hair and thrust again, demanding more. Conall took his whole length, so that his nose was pressed to Luke’s groin. His lips were soft and wet on Luke’s flesh, his tongue dragging over the shaft. Luke tugged at his hair, pressed 150

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forward. Needy sounds worked their way from his throat. Conall drew his hands away, curved them over the edge of the crate as though for leverage. Luke caught motion and the glint of metal in the corner of his vision, and then the device that was still inside him started vibrating again. “Fuck! Gods!” Luke thrashed at the sudden, piercing sensation, but Conall had made sure of his grip, and he held him in place. “Damn it, Conall, I mean it. Fuck me!” He grabbed at Conall’s hair and wrenched him up. Conall matched his body against Luke’s, laughing beneath his breath. “Careful, lad,” he murmured, smiling. Luke tried to kiss him, but he kept turning his head aside to speak. “There might still be people out there who haven’t left yet.” “I don’t care.” Luke glared at him. “Let them hear, just fuck me, for pity’s sake.” When Conall was too slow to comply, he reached down himself and slid his hand under his ass, grasping at the edges of the thing’s base and trying to work it out, even though every tiny movement made him shudder and gasp. Conall’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling him. He stared down at Luke with an intensity that made him shiver. “Wait.” “No.” Luke braced his heel on Conall’s hip and shoved him back. Conall grabbed and stilled him again, his fingers wrapping tighter. “Let me do that.” His voice was tight, unsteady. Luke pushed up onto an elbow so he could glare at him. “You had your chance and you wasted it.” Conall grinned at him. He slid a hand down between Luke’s cheeks, pushing Luke’s hand to the side. His fingers teased the edge of Luke’s hole. “Give me another?” 151

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“Fuck.” Luke dropped his head back to rest on the crate, struggling for control. “Don’t waste it.” He stroked his hand over Luke’s hip. “Turn over, lad, and I promise I won’t.” Luke obeyed, sliding to the edge of the crate and flipping over so he was bent across its top. Even that small amount of movement made the plug slide inside of him, so that when he was on his stomach, all he could do was press his brow to the rough boards of the crate and whimper. Mercifully, Conall’s hands were on him before he’d even finished turning over, covering his cheeks and kneading, then sliding down to the cleft between them before Luke could protest that that, too, only made the damned thing move, only made it worse. Conall grasped the edges of its flared base and began a steady pressure, pulling it out. Luke wrapped his arms over his head and cried out, shuddering as it slid through him. His cock was trapped between his stomach and the crate, and it throbbed with need. “Please,” he whispered. “Gods. Conall. Please.” “Shh, lad.” Conall slid one hand over the small of Luke’s back, a soft caress, trying to soothe, but Luke was already too far gone for that. “I won’t risk hurting you, no matter how much it strokes my ego that you want me so bad. Be patient, just a moment longer.” “Patient?” Luke twisted, staring back over his shoulder. “Patient? I ran out of patience hours ago.” Conall bent and kissed his cheek, let his tongue slide over the skin as he worked the plug out slowly, relentlessly. Luke gasped and grasped for the opposite edge of the crate, curled his fingers around it and dug them in, straining to keep himself under control, 152

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to stay relaxed as he stretched around the device’s girth again. And then the flared head slipped out and he was empty more suddenly than he’d expected, and it was just another torment. As Conall set it aside, Luke flipped over again, grabbed his arms and hauled him up. Conall stiffened, giving a startled laugh. Luke dragged his mouth down and claimed it with a needy kiss. “Get your damn clothes off and fuck me already,” he growled against Conall’s mouth, pulling impatiently at Conall’s pants. “I meant it, I swear, I’ll never talk to you again—” Conall shoved his pants off his hips and pulled his legs out of them without ever once breaking away from Luke’s mouth. He dragged Luke’s legs up, his hips to the edge of the crate. Luke gasped against the kiss, then moaned at the feel of Conall’s cock pressing against him. “Yes. Now.” Conall’s fingers dug into Luke’s hips. He flexed forward and sank into him, more than half his length in one easy stroke. Luke’s gasps turned ragged and he cried out, clawing at Conall’s shoulders. “All right, lad?” Conall murmured against his lips, holding himself still. He drew back from the kiss and looked down at Luke, concern shining in his eyes. “No. I’m not all right. I’m not anywhere near all right.” Luke thrust his hips up, driving Conall deeper. “Fuck me and I will be.” Conall braced a hand on the crate and bent over Luke as he nudged deeper. Luke hooked his hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, groaned against his mouth. He hooked his legs around Conall’s hips and pulled at him. When Conall was fully seated within Luke, he paused for a moment, shuddering. Luke bit at his lips and rocked their hips 153

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together. “Fuck me. Now. Hard.” Conall groaned, laughing. “Keep talking to me like that, lad, and I’ll do whatever you want.” He took his first, long stroke into Luke’s ass, rocking out and then driving back in, all the way. Luke arched up off the crate, crying out as the sensation lanced through him. “More,” he breathed, already thrusting up against Conall again. Conall drove into him, steady and relentless. Luke whimpered against his mouth, gasped and moaned. Heat spread across his skin, tingling already, drawing him tight. He clenched around Conall, trying to stave it off because this was perfect, just like this. Conall reached down between them and took Luke’s cock in his hand, stroked it. He rubbed his thumb over the head, where Luke had ached and throbbed and yearned to be touched all morning. It was too much. Luke gasped, grabbed onto Conall tight as shudders wracked his body and he spurted jets of semen across his stomach. Conall froze inside of him, lodging deep while Luke’s orgasm went on and on, more intense than any he could remember. At last it released him, and he slumped down onto his back, winded, gasping. Conall slowly shifted his weight, leaning over Luke, both forearms braced beside him. Even that small movement made Luke cry out and shudder all over again. The sensations were almost painfully sharp after the force of his climax. Conall kissed his lips gently. He didn’t delve deeper until Luke opened, inviting him. The kiss was slow, deep, languorous. Luke wrapped his arms around Conall’s back and pulled him down hard against him. Conall traced his fingers lightly over the side of Luke’s throat. 154

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“Still speaking to me?” “I suppose I’d better,” Luke said lightly, “or I’d never be able to ask you to do that again.” Conall laughed. It made him move inside Luke, and Luke caught his breath. “All of it?” “No. Definitely not.” Luke pushed himself up and scowled at Conall. “And you are never picking out my clothes for me again.” He braced his hands on Conall’s hips and pushed. Conall slid out of him, still stiff. Luke wrapped an arm around him when he started to draw away, and curved his hand around Conall’s cock. Conall let out an unsteady breath and leaned his brow against Luke’s shoulder. “This isn’t necessary.” “It would serve you right if I left you to suffer unsatisfied,” Luke told him, but kept his hand moving. “It would,” Conall agreed solemnly. He flexed above Luke, thrusting into his grip. His breath hitched when Luke rubbed his palm over the head of his cock. “Ahh, you’re too good to me, lad.” “You can make it up to me tonight,” Luke suggested, tightening his grip, stroking a little faster, bringing Conall to the edge of release and then over it. “In full.” *

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Despite Addy’s misgivings, Mrs. Ginnings proved perfectly amenable to the idea of chaperoning their riding lessons. She’d have rather been able to spend the time with Nume alone, but nevertheless, Addy looked forward to the first session with fierce anticipation. She spent the majority of that day trying to teach Conall how to sit so he didn’t bounce so hard he’d break his poor mare’s back, and patiently coaxing Nume to approach her horse. 155

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By the time they called an end to it, Conall had made a full lap around the pasture without Addy once worrying that he was going to bounce right out of his saddle, and Nume was standing by her horse’s withers, mostly relaxed as she stroked his neck. Addy counted it a rousing success, and implored Mrs. Ginnings to make time for them to ride every day, so they could be ready in time for the hunt. They spent every morning that week in the pasture with their horses, and Addy thrilled at the luxury of so much time with Nume in near-privacy. Mrs. Ginnings’s presence made her nervous at first, but she quickly realized why Luke had recommended her. She was as unlike Mrs. Alcott as Addy could have imagined, and never once scolded Addy for lingering too close to Nume. The two of them had plenty of opportunity to talk while Conall trotted wide circles around the pasture and Addy rode at Nume’s side, leading her in smaller walking circuits. It didn’t take long before Addy was waking even before her maid came to ready her, eager to get her morning ablutions out of the way so she could hurry down to the stables and spend the pleasant morning hours in Nume’s company. Occasionally, when Conall was at the far end of the pasture, and Mrs. Ginnings was pretending she wasn’t paying them any attention, Addy would nudge her mare up next to Nume’s and lean in to steal a kiss. Or Nume would tap her heels to her horse’s sides, urging him faster so she could catch up to Addy and claim one for herself. It became a game that Addy used to help Nume grow more comfortable with greater speeds, a chase in which the prize for catching up to Addy was another kiss, each one longer and deeper than the last. They rode until lunch, usually, then spilled into the dining hall as a group to sit with Luke and chat about how Nume had tried out 156

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a trot today and hardly even shrieked at all, or how Conall had forgotten to adjust the length of his stirrups before mounting and then been too proud to admit it, so he’d ridden around for nearly a full hour with his knees practically under his chin, while Addy and Nume hooted with laughter. At the week’s end, Addy was in her room when there came a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, puzzled as to who it might be. It wasn’t her maid, nor any of the palace servants she knew. She straightened and turned to face him fully as he came in and bowed to her, curious. He wasn’t wearing palace livery at all, and he had an Ilian look to his features. “I’ve brought a message, my lady,” he told her at the deepest part of his bow. “From Her Highness, Lady Nume.” Addy brightened. “Yes? What does she have to say?” “She wishes to thank you for the time and effort you have taken to teach her horsemanship, these days. To express her gratitude, she requests the honor of your presence at a small, intimate supper in her quarters, this evening.” Addy beamed, warmth spreading through her at the thoughtfulness. “Well, that’s not necessary at all, but tell her I’d be delighted. Is it to be held in conjunction with the formal supper?” “Yes, my lady.” “Good.” She smiled at him. “Then please tell her I’ll be there by the time the supper bell rings, unless she’d prefer otherwise.” She fished a coin from her purse and passed it to him, to thank him for the trouble. When he’d seen himself out, the bubble of anticipation beneath her breast burst into a frenzy of excitement. Under any other circumstances, she’d have been appalled at the amount of time she spent in an agony of indecision over what to 157

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wear. But it was Nume, who was always so astonishingly beautiful that Addy felt like a pauper, come to pay homage to a queen. And a dinner held in her private chambers was bound to be a small, close affair, much more so than the formal dinners held in the Hall. As silly and frivolous as the thought was, and though she’d have scorned the thought any other day, Addy wanted to look pretty for her. Finally, there was no time left for indecision, or she’d never be able to make it to Nume’s rooms by the dinner bell. She dressed quickly and straightened her hair so it fell in loose curls about her face, then slipped out of her room and headed toward Nume’s. It was all she could do not to run down the halls to her without a thought for decorum. Dinner hadn’t yet rung by the time Addy made her way down the Ilians’ wing and knocked upon Nume’s door, though it surely must have been only moments away. Nume answered the door and smiled brilliantly to see Addy. Nume’s gaze swept over her, just a brief flicker. But when her smile warmed, deepened, Addy forgave herself for every moment of vanity. “Hello.” She stepped inside when Nume opened the door for her and moved aside. The table was already loaded with platters of food, filling the room with delicious aromas. Addy noticed that it had only been set with two places, and heat rushed to her cheeks. She turned back to Nume, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh… This is quite a bit more private than I expected.” Nume sent her a curious look as she closed the door, and Addy realized that she probably hadn’t understood most of what she’d said. She struggled to figure out how to say it. “I thought… That is, I thought there would be…” She gestured to the table helplessly. 158

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“Other people. More people.” Nume laughed and smiled at her, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. “No. You teach. It is for you.” She motioned to the chairs. “Sit, sit.” “That’s really not necessary,” Addy protested quietly, but she sat all the same. “I’m happy to, you know. I’ve been enjoying it.” Nume nodded. “And this—you—I enjoy it.” She gave Addy a sharp grin. “No more argue. Eat.” Addy relented with a chagrined smile and settled into her seat. There was more food than the two of them could hope to eat themselves and it all smelled wonderful, but Addy hardly tasted any of it. She could barely even bring herself to look away from Nume to cut her meat. Every so often, Nume would glance up and catch her looking, and she’d smile to herself and drop her gaze away while her cheeks turned an entrancing shade of pink. When she blushed, Addy wanted to get up and circle around the table to her, so fiercely it hurt. She wanted to climb into Nume’s lap and take advantage of the fact that they were finally, truly alone, without fear of interruption or discovery. She wanted to kiss her and never stop. Nume seemed perfectly content to eat her supper and remain on the far side of the little table from her, so Addy forced herself to remain in her chair and pick at her food. She drank wine, more than she would have if they’d been eating in the Great Hall, but she couldn’t help it. Sitting this close to Nume, all by themselves, just like she’d wanted to be, made her so jittery her hands shook. Because Addy was watching her so steadily, she noticed the way Nume stretched her back out every so often, pressing her fists against the small of her back and grimacing as she arched. “Are you uncomfortable?” she asked at last, when Nume did it 159

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again. “If your chairs don’t suit you, we can have new ones brought in, you know.” Nume relaxed out of the stretch and blinked at her with her dark eyes, her lashes sweeping down against her cheek. “I’m sorry?” she said. Addy blew her breath out. “The chair,” she said, pointing. “It hurts you?” “Oh, no, no.” Nume shook her head quickly. “Not the chair. The horses.” She touched her back, her stomach, her legs. “Hurts.” Addy felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. “I’ve been working you too hard, haven’t I? Taking you riding every day, when you’d never even sat on a horse before… Oh, Nume, I’m sorry.” She came around the table and dropped to her knees, gripping Nume’s hand. “I’m so thoughtless. I’ve been riding all my life, and I forgot what it’s like to just be starting. Heavens, you must be one big knot, from head to toe.” Nume looked down on her in startled bemusement. Her thumbs swept over the backs of Addy’s fingers, a simple caress that made Addy drop her gaze as a shiver stole through her. “Would it help if I rubbed your back?” she asked. “It would loosen it up for you, and might make you a little more comfortable.” Nume didn’t answer, and looked as though maybe she didn’t understand. Addy pulled on her hands and directed her to turn sideways on the chair. It wasn’t until Addy had spread her hands on Nume’s back, just below her shoulder blades, that she realized just how close it brought her to the other woman, that she could feel the warmth of Nume’s skin through the silk of her gown. Addy drew a deep breath and steeled herself. She slid her thumbs up either side of 160

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Nume’s spine with a careful pressure, gauging her response. Nume murmured, wordless, and leaned against Addy’s touch. Addy stroked again, firmer, seeking out the knots in the muscles along her back. Nume tilted her head forward, drawing her dark hair over her shoulder. The pale curve of her nape stopped Addy’s breath in her throat. Her hands stilled on Nume’s back. She wanted to kiss her there, where the fine hairs lay softly against her neck, just above the curved back of her gown. Addy forced herself to draw a breath and continue, running her thumbs up Nume’s back, slowly working out from her spine, easing out the knots of tension when she encountered them. When she worked loose a particularly tough one, Nume bit back a small sound, halfway between a cry and a groan. Addy stopped and leaned her brow against Nume’s shoulder, in that little crook that her dress left bare, struggling against the wave of dizzy desire that swamped her. Nume turned suddenly, before Addy could move back. Facing one another, it was painfully obvious how close they were. All Addy had to do was tilt her head a little and their lips would touch, they could kiss… But Nume was staring at her, her eyes dark and searching. Addy waited, just looking at her, feeling the sweet caress of Nume’s breath against her skin. After an eternity, Nume took a slow step back. The sudden space between them felt like a shock of cold water to Addy’s system. She stepped forward, following after instinctively. When Nume turned and climbed up onto the bed, Addy froze, shocked. Nume knelt at its edge, her back to Addy. She reached her arms behind her and began to unfasten the buttons that secured her gown, a long line of them up her back. 161

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“Let me help you.” Addy stilled her hands with a touch. Nume subsided, letting her arms hang down at her sides. Addy worked the buttons free, but she’d only unbuttoned a few before the realization of what she was doing struck her, and her hands stilled. She could see Nume’s pale skin in the small gap she’d opened, and the long line of buttons only held promise of more. She continued on more slowly, reverently. Her fingertips brushed the skin of Nume’s back occasionally, as she worked the more stubborn buttons free. She felt the shivers that slid through Nume at her touch and wondered how she’d ever managed to end up here, with her, like this. When the last button came free and the back of her gown gaped open, Addy reached for her again, to touch her properly. But Nume moved away, crawling to the center of the bed and stretching out on her stomach. The back of the gown opened so that her back was bare, and she looked at Addy over her shoulder as she gathered up her hair. “Better?” she asked. “Yes? Easier.” Addy had to laugh, but the sound came out choked. She climbed up on the bed with Nume, hitching up her skirt so it didn’t get caught beneath her knees, and moved until she was kneeling by the other woman’s hips. “Yes.” She looked down at the sinuous curves of Nume’s back. “That will make it much easier indeed.” A thrill of electricity went through her when she put her hands on Nume’s waist, skin to skin. She was so warm, and her skin was soft beneath Addy’s fingertips. She wanted to stroke, caress. It seemed wrong to dig in the way she’d need to for a proper massage. Nume made a soft, inquisitive sound, and glanced back over her shoulder. Addy smiled and slid her hands up Nume’s back, a 162

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gentle glide at first, working herself up to more. Nume made an appreciative sound and let her head drop down to pillow on her arms. Addy couldn’t help but enjoy the opportunity to look at her. There was a spattering of freckles low on her back, near her waist. She traced them with her fingertips, but the touch made Nume twist away with breathless laughter, as though it tickled, and Addy relented. She traced the lines of muscles in Nume’s back, dragged a finger down the valley of her spine, from nape to the edge of her dress. Nume relaxed beneath her touch, and Addy gained confidence to knead tense muscles, when she encountered them. Too soon for Addy’s liking, Nume was limp and boneless beneath her hands, not a spot of tension to be found. Addy hesitated, her hands resting lightly on the small of Nume’s back, unwilling to stop touching her, even now, when her excuse was gone. “Addy?” Nume murmured. It made Addy’s stomach clench to hear her speak her name like that, soft and dreamy. “Not stopping? Still more.” She shifted so her head was only pillowed on one arm, and slid the other down to pat at her thigh. Addy dug her teeth hard into her lower lip. “Are you sore there, too?” Nume nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes. Please.” Addy shifted on the bed, sliding down. She drew her hands from Nume’s back, over her hips, down to her thigh. The silk gown slipped beneath her hand as she began to rub the long, lean muscle. Nume sucked in her breath as Addy found a tender spot. Addy froze, then continued more gently. She didn’t want to hurt Nume, not even for the purpose of relieving sore muscles. She rubbed and 163

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kneaded both of Nume’s legs, working her thighs and the backs of her legs, all the way down to her knees, where even the slightest touch, through the fabric of her gown, made Nume laugh and flinch away. Addy worked her way back up Nume’s legs, sliding up the bed in small increments. When she’d reached her hips again, Nume rolled over onto her back, one arm crossed over her chest to hold her unbuttoned gown in place. She took Addy’s hand in hers, kept her gaze steady and warm on Addy’s as she drew it to her stomach, the last of the three places she’d indicated were sore. Addy spread her hands, fingers curling around Nume’s waist, thumbs brushing over her abdomen. She stroked with slow, lingering touches up over her ribs, down low on her stomach. Addy couldn’t look away from her, the way her lashes fluttered briefly down over her eyes when Addy found a sore spot, the way she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and worried it between her teeth. Abruptly, it was more than Addy could bear. She stopped, her hands pressed to Nume’s stomach. Nume blinked her eyes open and sought Addy’s gaze, her brows furrowed with a question that needed no translation. Addy took her hands from Nume and leaned over, bracing herself on the mattress, their faces scant inches apart. She watched Nume’s eyes widen, darken, watched her lips shiver apart. She curved a hand around the back of Nume’s neck and lowered herself, kissing her with the passion of all her pent-up desire. Nume made a small sound against her mouth, then wound her arm up around Addy’s back, holding them together. Addy broke away just long enough to draw a quick breath, and then she kissed her again, sweeping into her mouth. Nume’s tongue slid against 164

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hers eagerly, matching her hunger. It seemed to Addy that it must be a dream. It was impossible that she was really here with Nume, kissing her and clasping her close, alone and with the promise of no interruption for as long as they might wish. She broke away from the kiss because she felt light-headed, dizzy. She kissed Nume’s jaw, her throat, kissed the shell of her ear. Nume slid her hand into Addy’s hair and tugged in gentle encouragement. Addy kissed down her throat. Nume drew a ragged gasp when she flicked her tongue over the hollow behind her collarbone, her fingers tightening briefly in Addy’s hair. Distantly shocked at her own boldness, Addy circled her fingers around Nume’s wrist and gently drew away the arm she’d held crossed over her chest. She sat up a little, enough that she could hook her fingers in the neckline of Nume’s gown and draw it down her arms. Nume tugged them from the sleeves impatiently and drew a single deep breath when Addy slid the dress down to her waist. “Heavens,” Addy whispered, overcome. Nume lay still beneath her, letting her look, a beguiling flush crawling across her skin. Addy slowly slid her hand up from Nume’s stomach, curved her fingers to cup Nume’s breast in her palm. Nume cried out, a short, sharp sound, and brought her hand up to cover Addy’s. Addy stroked over her softly, awed. Nume’s nipples were dusky against her pale skin. Addy circled her thumb around one, watching it draw up beneath her touch into a hard mound. She grazed over its tip, delighting in the way Nume’s breathing hitched and shuddered in response. She stroked it until Nume was biting back breathless, needy sounds, then Addy caught her nipple between her fingers and pulled gently. Nume sucked in her breath with a sharp gasp and writhed 165

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beneath Addy. She buried her hands in Addy’s hair, stroking through her curls and whispering softly in Ilian. Addy moved over Nume’s stomach. She lifted her hips from the bed when Addy reached where the gown was gathered about her waist. Addy drew it down and off and cast it aside, and then she had to stop, just staring down at Nume, stretched out nude before her. Every fantasy Addy had had about this moment paled in comparison to the reality of it, the way Nume curled her knees up toward her chest as though shy, but reached for Addy eagerly, impatient for her touch. Addy took hold of Nume’s ankle and straightened her leg out. Nume pushed up onto her elbows to watch her. Addy cupped her calf in her hands and made long, sweeping strokes over the muscle, slowly working her way up Nume’s leg. Nume dropped onto her back again as Addy worked up her thigh, shifting as Addy slid forward in tiny increments, insinuating herself between Nume’s legs. By the time Addy’s touches reached the crease at the top of her thigh, Nume was biting her lip, making small, kittenish noises with every stroke. Addy watched Nume’s face closely as she drew her fingers along the crease, following it down over Nume’s hip and between her thighs, brushing through her curls. Nume gasped and babbled in Ilian, then caught herself. “Please,” she whispered. “Addy, please.” “I don’t know how you can imagine I’d be able to resist you,” Addy whispered. She slid a single finger through Nume’s folds, where her flesh was slick and burning hot. Nume cried out and bucked her hips up against Addy’s hand. Addy stroked again, more confidently. She found the bundled knot of her clitoris and circled her fingers around it, delighting in 166

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the way it made Nume whimper and rock against her touch. When Nume reached down to grab her wrist, stilling her, Addy nearly groaned with disappointment. She thought she could have spent the whole night just touching her, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan. But Nume sat up and pushed her back. Her face was flushed, strands of hair stuck to the sweat that filmed her throat. She caught handfuls of Addy’s hair and drew her in, kissed her hungrily. And that was just as wonderful—more so—because Nume pressed her body in against Addy’s and Addy could run her hands all over her, from her shoulders down her slender back, over the smooth, rounded muscles of her ass, up again to cup and knead her breast. As Nume kissed her, she slid her arms around Addy’s back and began to untie the laces of her bodice. A shiver of nerves and excitement shot through Addy as she sat back and helped Nume pull it off over her head. It was barely off before Nume was pulling at the ties of her skirt and tugging that down, too, leaving Addy dressed in only her shift. Nume cupped Addy’s breast in her hand and swept her thumb over the nipple. Addy shuddered at the sensation and pressed against her hand. Without the stiff bulk of her dress between them, Addy could feel every line of Nume’s body, as well as the heat that radiated from her. She sucked in her breath and let her hands settle on the small of Nume’s back as she pressed fleeting kisses to Addy’s jaw and throat. Lower, Nume’s hands gathered Addy’s shift, inching the hem up, slowly baring Addy to the cool air in the room and to Nume’s gaze. When her legs were bare and tangled with Nume’s, Nume sat back and pushed it up farther. Addy caught the edge and pulled it off over her head. It felt scandalous to be like this, naked, looked 167

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at. But Nume’s eyes glowed with appreciation, and Addy couldn’t find it in herself to mind. She reached for Nume, tried to draw her in for another kiss, but Nume ducked away from her grasp and batted her hands aside, laughing. She bent her head and drew Addy toward her. Her lips touched Addy’s nipple, soft, warm. Addy gasped, then dropped her head back and moaned when Nume parted her lips and took Addy’s nipple into her mouth, lapping gentle circles around it with the tip of her tongue. Addy curled her fingers in strands of Nume’s hair and bent over her, pressing kisses to the crown of her head as Nume took her deeper into her mouth, sucked at her. Heat shot straight through Addy’s body, and she cried out in quiet shock at the ease with which her body responded. Nume’s hands slipped around Addy’s back, holding her in place as her mouth worked over Addy’s breast. She caught Addy’s nipple between her lips and pulled at it, lapped over it with the flat of her tongue, caught it with the edge of her teeth. When she finally released that breast and kissed her way across Addy’s chest to the other, Addy thought she would surely lose her mind from it all. “I want…” she whispered, stroking her hands through Nume’s hair. “Please, let me…” She slid one hand down, curved it around the inside of Nume’s thigh. Nume shifted her stance, parting for her easily as her mouth continued to work over Addy’s flesh. Addy slid her hand higher, into Nume’s heat, just as Nume sucked on her nipple hard and flicked her tongue across its tip. They both cried out, echoes of one another. Nume’s muscles clenched on Addy’s fingers and she raised her head, looking at Addy with pleasure written in every line of her face. 168

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Slowly, Nume sank down onto her back on the bed. Addy moved with her, stretching out above her. Nume twined her fingers in Addy’s hair and tugged, gently, urging her down. Addy kissed her throat, her collar, her breast, kissed down her stomach and flicked her tongue over the edge of Nume’s navel. Still, Nume kept the slight pressure on her hair, urging her down, down, until Addy was kneeling between Nume’s legs, her lips pressed low on her stomach. She helped Nume bend her knees, spreading herself open. Addy propped herself up on an elbow and kissed the soft skin on the inside of Nume’s thigh as she slid her finger over Nume’s most intimate places, exploring it. She was dripping with wetness, her flesh swollen and pink. Addy worked her finger between Nume’s lips and found her entrance, stroked around it. Nume’s muscles grasped at her greedily, pulling her in, urging her deeper as she whimpered, her fingers clawing into the sheets. Slowly working her finger deeper, Addy leaned in and pressed her lips to Nume’s clit. Nume gasped and thrust her hips up against Addy’s mouth. Addy slid her tongue over the knot of flesh, slowly, methodically lapping the taste from her. It was musky, strange, not unpleasant but new and exotic. Addy sucked at her clit, seeking more of it. Nume whimpered and writhed beneath her, shuddering, her muscles clenching around Addy’s finger as she rocked it, in and out, slowly thrusting into her. Nume’s hands fisted in her hair, pulling Addy’s mouth harder against her. Addy felt a tremor start in the muscles of her thighs, a moment before Nume cried out sharply and went tense, convulsing as the strength of her climax made her arch off the bed. When she gave a great, unsteady sigh and sank back down onto the blankets, Addy crawled up, stretching her body out atop 169

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Nume’s. Nume turned her face toward Addy’s and pulled her into a kiss as soon as she was near enough to reach. Addy sank into it eagerly, stroking the damp strands of hair back from her cheeks. Nume’s kisses were fleeting, darting. She kept drawing back to whisper to Addy in Ilian before sinking into another, and another. Addy pressed close and held her as they kissed. When Nume slipped her hand between them and drew it down Addy’s stomach, Addy stilled. She drew back just enough that she could look at Nume as the other woman’s fingers stroked through her pubic hair. Addy shifted without conscious thought, parting for her. She slid her thumb over Nume’s lips and held eye contact as Nume’s fingers spread her, slid through her wetness. She was shuddering in moments, her arms tightening around Nume’s back. Nume’s kisses were still darting and brief, but they were softer now, tender. Addy slid her tongue over Nume’s lip and tried to coax her into a deeper kiss, but she laughed and turned her head aside, and thrust a finger into her so that Addy forgot to be disappointed. Addy pressed in close against her and slid her leg over Nume’s, up over her hip, allowing her better access. Nume slid a second finger in beside the first and thrust both into her. Her thumb rubbed over Addy’s clit in time with her thrusts. Addy moaned against Nume’s mouth and pressed her hips against Nume’s hand, encouraging her to go faster, deeper. Heat spiraled up within her, winding tighter. Addy gasped into each kiss and her hips moved of their own volition, without thought, maintaining the pace as her head swam, and sweat broke out across her skin in a rush of warmth. “Please,” she whispered against Nume’s mouth. “Oh, please… Don’t stop.” 170

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Nume caught her in a kiss again, and this time she didn’t pull away. She parted her lips and Addy sank in eagerly, sweeping her tongue into Nume’s mouth, shaking with pent-up desire. Her hands gripped Nume, too tight, but Nume didn’t complain, and her lips curved into a smile against Addy’s. She pressed her thumb harder as she rubbed, and worked a third finger in beside the first two. Addy cried out in dazed awe at the sensation of being stretched, filled. She bit hungrily at Nume’s lips and thrust her hips against her hand. “Please,” she begged again, unsteadily, drawing back just enough that she could look into Nume’s eyes. “It’s too much. I’ll go mad.” Nume hooked her hand around the back of Addy’s neck and dragged her firmly back into the kiss. She was greedy now, insistent, and her hand moved in Addy to match it, sharp thrusts that made Addy gasp and cling to her, as though the floor had dropped out beneath her feet. Her head spun as Nume’s fingers filled and stretched her one last time, and all the heat gathered up within her exploded. She shook, crying out against Nume’s mouth, trembling all over. Nume slid her fingers out while the spasms were still rippling through her, making her shudder. She wrapped her arms around Addy, tangled their legs together and held her close until the tremors faded. Addy slumped down next to Nume and slid her arms around her. Nume pressed her lips to Addy’s throat, just above her erratic pulse. Addy stroked her hair and whispered, “My goodness. How on earth am I supposed to keep my hands off you now?” Nume’s lips curved against her skin. She tightened her arms around Addy’s back and shifted so their bodies fit more perfectly together. Her hair was spread out across the pillow, as Addy’s was, and they mingled together between them, blonde making streaks 171

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through the black. Addy stroked the places where the locks of their hair twined together. The sweat on her skin cooled slowly, making her skin prickle with the chill of the room, but Nume didn’t make any motion to sit up or draw away, so Addy didn’t move, either. “Sleep?” Nume whispered, her lips and breath moving against Addy’s skin. “That sounds lovely. No one will come in?” Nume shook her head. “No. I told them— No one. Not today.” Addy couldn’t help but smile. “Thought of everything, did you?” She slid her hand down to Nume’s back, let it rest there just between her shoulder blades. “That was very confident of you. I might have protested that I was a proper lady, and I couldn’t possibly, and fled back to my room, scandalized to my very core by the mere suggestion.” Nume murmured, wordless and happy, and rolled so she was pressed in close against Addy, her eyes already drooping with sleep. Addy traced her fingers lightly along Nume’s spine, and smiled as she looked down at her. “Well. Perhaps not, after all.”

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CHAPTER 9 “You look a fright, lad.” Luke raised his head at the sound of Conall’s voice and gave him a strained smile. “These contracts are doing my head in.” He waved the sheaf of papers before him. “I’ve been muddling through them all afternoon.” “And evening?” Conall cocked a brow as he strode into the chamber and propped his hip against Luke’s desk. “It’s well past supper time, and you never came. Tell me you’ve eaten, at least.” Luke sat back in his chair and scrubbed at his face. “Is it that late already? Goodness.” He ran the back of his wrist across his brow. “What have you been up to all day?” Conall didn’t reply at once. The silence stretched long enough that Luke glanced up at him in alarm. “Conall…” He leaned his 173

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head in his hands with a bone-weary sigh. “You haven’t been stirring up trouble, have you?” “No, lad.” He didn’t smile or make a joke of it. “I’ve been trying to track down your missing courtiers.” Luke blinked, focused on him slowly. He leaned forward in his chair. “What have you found?” “They’re scattered to the winds. Most of them have closeted themselves up on their country estates and won’t hear of taking visitors. Someone’s scared the living hell out of them. I’ve rearranged the guards’ shifts to allow some of them to ride out to their estates and inquire further.” His expression grew more and more grim as he spoke. He glanced sidelong at Luke. “I’ll tell you about it, if you like, but don’t think I hadn’t noticed you didn’t answer my question.” Luke grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had a bowl of soup earlier.” “How much earlier?” Luke shrugged, and Conall groaned, tipping his head back and staring skyward as though praying for forbearance. “That’s enough of that, then.” He took the papers from Luke’s hand and flipped them facedown upon the desk. “They’ll wait until morning. Come along.” Luke protested half-heartedly as Conall drew him out of his chair and led him down the hall, toward their bedchamber. In truth, he’d had a splitting headache throbbing between his brows for hours now, and the legal intricacies of the contracts had done little to help it. He wouldn’t have minded taking a break from it for the night, if Conall were going to insist upon it. Conall swung the bedroom door shut firmly behind them, his expression resolute, as though he meant to hold the world at bay 174

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for the night whatever the cost. His expression softened as he looked at Luke, until he gave a small sigh and released the tension in his shoulders. “Come here, lad.” Luke went to him. Conall framed his face in his hands and bent, covering his mouth. Luke parted for his kiss, but after only a moment, Conall drew back, frowning. “What is it?” Luke asked. “Tired, are you?” Luke sighed and dropped his forehead against Conall’s chest. “Beyond belief.” Conall curved his hands over Luke’s shoulders and guided him backward, toward the bed. His hands pulled at Luke’s clothes, casting his cravat to the floor, then his waistcoat and shirt. When they reached the bedside, Conall shucked Luke’s trousers down and helped him step out of them. When he was entirely nude, Conall continued to bear him backward, onto the bed and down onto his back. “Conall,” Luke protested when the other man quickly discarded his own clothes and joined Luke in bed. “Hush now, lad.” Conall pressed in against his back, one arm draped over Luke’s waist. “You just let me see what I can do about helping you relax some.” He stroked Luke’s penis, still flaccid and limp. His teeth scraped at the edge of Luke’s ear. Luke leaned back against the solid wall of Conall’s chest, but when, after a moment, he still hadn’t hardened, Conall gave a low, rumbling sound that had Luke shutting his eyes. He knew the sound of Conall’s frustration well enough to identify, and he didn’t have to guess the source of it. “I’m tired,” Luke said again, by way of explanation. “My head 175

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hurts. I just want to sleep.” Conall shifted behind him. He rolled Luke onto his back and frowned down at him. Luke had expected him to be irritated, but mostly what he saw on Conall’s face was a terrible worry. “Are you ill?” He pressed his hand to Luke’s brow, like a mother with a child. Luke swatted his hand away, scowling. “I’m tired is all.” In truth, he was far too run-down to even be able to face the thought of Conall’s concern. “Honestly, aren’t you the one who’s been telling me I need to get more rest? I am trying.” He raised his brows and shot Conall a pointed look. “You might leave me to it.” Conall’s brows shot up, then lowered, his expression darkening. Luke tensed for an explosion, but after a moment, all Conall said was, “Very well. I certainly hope you get some.” And though his words were genial enough, his tone was clipped. Another time, Luke would have drawn him down and soothed him until his anger had eased. But he hadn’t the energy for it now. He rolled over onto his side again, tucked his arm beneath his head, and shut his eyes. Just this once, he thought, as exhaustion rose up to claim him with a frightful speed, Conall could nurse his own wounds. *

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Due in large part to her daily riding lessons with Nume, which were becoming more like friendly, relaxing rides as Nume grew more comfortable on horseback, Addy was enjoying herself more than she had in a long time. Even the nights were more wonderful than she had words for. She and Nume spent them together whenever they could manage it. When Nume was not inviting her 176

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to a private supper in her rooms, or Addy returning the honor with an invitation to join her in her own, Addy would wait until the rest of the palace had gone to bed, and then climb out her window and sneak across the roofs to Nume’s under cover of dark. She’d scared Nume senseless the first time she’d tried it, rapping unannounced at the window, but now Nume would run to the window and throw it open, her face shining with anticipation. She dragged Addy in and kissed her, kept kissing her as she bore her back onto the bed, and they didn’t part until dawn, when Addy had to rouse and dress and sneak back to her own bed before their maids came to wake them. The day of the hunt dawned as beautiful as they could have asked for, with clear skies shading from white at the horizon to a rich azure high overhead. Addy lingered in bed longer than she normally dared, the morning breeze sidling through the window and tracing cool fingers over their bare skin. Nume’s head was pillowed on Addy’s breast, her hair spilling across Addy’s chest. “Tell me,” she murmured, still drowsy and dreamy. Addy stroked her hair, letting the strands sift through her fingers. “You’re not nervous, are you? You and I have done harder riding these past few days than you’ll be expected to do today.” Nume shook her head. She didn’t open her eyes. “Nerves, no. I like to hear you.” Addy smiled and wrapped a narrow section of Nume’s hair around her finger. “It’s a hunt to celebrate the bounty of summer. Ostensibly, we’re meant to hunt down a white hart and bring it home as evidence of Luke’s prowess as king, but really, it’s just an excuse for a pleasant ride and some pleasant company. There aren’t any harts anymore.” Nume lifted her head and looked toward Addy, blinked her 177

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eyes open, adorably groggy. “Heart?” She rested her fingertips on Addy’s sternum. Addy laughed. “A deer. It’s a white deer. But it’s just legend, anyway.” Nume settled down next to Addy again. Addy stroked her hair and watched the rising sun turn the ceiling gold. “Luke will come?” Nume asked her. “And Conall? And who?” “Oh, Darrin, no doubt.” Addy couldn’t help the bitterness that slipped into her tone at her cousin’s name. If there was anyone who was likely to ruin the pleasantries of the day for the rest of them, it was him. “And whoever he cares to invite. And any important nobles who are in residence.” She gave a playful tug on a lock of Nume’s hair, and shifted enough that she could grin down at her. “And the Ilians, of course.” Nume looked about as excited by the prospect of their company as Addy was at Darrin’s. But it only lasted a moment, and then her expression cleared. She rolled over so she was on top of Addy, straddling her and smiling down. “There is time?” she whispered. “Oh,” Addy breathed. Her hands came up without thought to stroke over Nume’s shoulders, to bury in the smooth silk of her hair. “There’s no time at all, you awful tease. It’s past dawn. Your maid will be waking, and mine, and—” Nume bent and covered Addy’s mouth with hers, silencing her. Addy’s breath caught. She parted without thought, met Nume’s tongue with her own as she swept into her mouth. “Hurry,” Addy groaned, and dragged Nume down hard against her. As it was, by the time they’d finished, she only barely managed to throw her clothes on and climb out onto the roof before she heard Nume’s door open and her maid enter. She slumped down 178

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beside the window, her back pressed to the wall, and struggled to catch her breath as the dizzy satisfaction of Nume’s touches surged through her. *

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After breakfast, they all changed into their riding clothes and assembled at the stables. The horses were already waiting for them. Addy helped Nume up into her saddle, and under pretense of checking the girth, she gave her calf an encouraging pat and smiled up at her. “You’re getting very good at this,” she told her. “Just relax, and don’t think too much about what you’re doing. It’ll be fun.” Nume smiled down at her and nodded. “Yes. I know.” She reached down and touched Addy’s cheek briefly, then straightened, and Addy moved away to find her own mare. Nume rode with Luke, because it was an honor to invite her to do so and it made the Ilians happy. As the company rode out, Addy fell back beside Conall. “If I fall off this damned beast,” he told her, “I’m blaming it on poor instruction.” Addy laughed. “That boy is so placid, you’d have to try to fall off. I’m not worried.” He flashed a grin at her. “So this is what you nobles do for fun, is it? Strap yourself to the backs of poor, unsuspecting beasts and ride around in circles until you feel like coming home?” “Don’t be silly. You forgot the part where we hunt an imaginary beast every one of us knows we’ll never find in our forest.” “Of course. How could I have forgotten that?” “Don’t tell me you don’t think having a sea breeze in your face 179

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and the waves leaping beneath your feet is a grand time.” He raised his brows at her. “I do at that, as a matter of fact. But what has that to do with this farce?” “Well, we haven’t any oceans conveniently nearby,” she told him with a wink. “Horseback is about as close as we can get.” She sat tall in her saddle and turned her face up to the sun, letting it warm her skin. “But it is fun.” “Better than another damned meeting, at any rate,” Conall agreed. “They’re not that bad, are they?” She twisted in her saddle and looked at him. “Luke’s not forcing you.” “No, he’s not.” Conall laughed beneath his breath. “I am not particularly interested in the meetings themselves, no. But I want to be there for Luke.” His expression hardened, turned wry. “To keep him from running himself into the ground, if nothing else.” He glanced sideways at Addy again. “But the meetings in their own right… No, I don’t much care for them. Too much talk for my tastes.” Addy laughed lightly. “A man of action, are you? Well, if you’re that worried about Luke, you ought to drag him away every once in a while. That’s a pirate’s prerogative, isn’t it? Kidnapping?” “I tried putting my foot down.” He sobered, his expression turning grave enough that Addy drew her horse up in concern. “He’s got a stubborn streak, and no sense of self-preservation to speak of. He’s running himself ragged, despite my best efforts. You should have seen him the other night—” There was a branch stretching across the path ahead. Conall nudged his horse forward and held it out of the way so Addy could pass. She smiled at him in thanks, then waited for him to catch up. 180

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“It’s all in how you phrase things with him, sometimes. Ask him to do something for himself and he’ll come up with a million excuses. Make it seem like he’d be doing you a favor, and he’ll fall all over himself to help you out.” Conall slanted her a sideways glance. The corner of his mouth turned up. “Spoken like a true sister. You had him wrapped around your little finger when you were little, didn’t you?” “Had? I still do.” She laughed and tapped her mare’s barrel with her heels, galloping ahead to catch up with Luke and Nume. Behind her, Conall grumbled and called out after her, then raced to catch up. They’d nearly reached Luke when a sudden cry went up ahead of them. Addy reigned her horse in, startled, and came up behind the others to see what had caused the outcry. Just on the path ahead of them, a buck had stepped out of the forest and stood motionless, his head turned toward them, staring as they all stared back. His coat was as pale as ivory, as freshfallen snow. Addy’s breath exploded out of her, so that when she breathed, “Oh heavens. A white hart,” it was barely audible at all. Conall came up behind her, straining to see past her. “What happened?” His voice was loud in the sudden hush. “What is it?” Addy tried to motion him to silence, but it was too late. The hart leapt away, a flash of white through the trees. Some of the others took up the cry and kicked their horses forward, following after it. In the commotion and the sudden press of the crowd, Luke’s horse snorted and tossed his head, dancing sideways. He crashed into Nume and her horse. Nume cried out and grabbed at her mare’s mane. Addy watched in horror as Luke’s horse reared and pawed at the air. Luke tumbled from the horse’s back, cried out again as he 181

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hit the ground with an awful thud. Addy was already pressing forward, trying frantically to get to him, when she saw the horse rear again, his hooves flailing too close to Nume’s head. Nume cried out and threw her arms up over her head, threw herself away from the threat and right out of the saddle. Addy’s heart dropped straight to her stomach as she watched her fall, crumpled in a heap on the ground, surrounded by a mass of anxious horses who were all growing nervous, pawing the ground and trying to move away from what was happening. Any one of them might crush her with a wrong step. “Nume!” Addy threw herself off her horse and rushed to her. “Oh gods. Are you okay? Gods. Please—” Nume stirred, planted a hand in the dirt beneath her and tried to push herself up. Addy swayed, overcome with relief, bent over her and covered her face in kisses. “Are you hurt? Can you move? Gods above, you scared me half to death…” “Fine,” Nume whispered. “I am fine. Addy— Luke—” She turned, remembering with an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that Nume had not been the only one to fall, that Luke had sounded like he’d landed horribly. She searched, found him, only a few steps away. Someone had led his horse aside, and Conall had dismounted so that they were all sheltered within the small circle that they formed. Luke sat up and Conall was at his side, running his hands over him briskly, checking for injuries. Luke was watching Addy with an odd expression. “Are you all right?” she asked him urgently. “My leg. My ankle—” “It’s not broken,” Conall said. “Looks like you’ve given it a good twist, though. Can you stand?” Luke got his feet beneath him and tried to push himself up, but 182

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he barely even got his hips off the ground before he cried out and dropped down again. Sweat had broken out across his face. “No. I don’t think so.” “Can you ride?” Addy asked, looking anxiously at the thick forest that surrounded them. “Gently,” he said. “I think. Perhaps.” He turned, looking for Conall. “Help me up?” While Conall did so, Addy moved to where his saddle had fallen, stained with dirt. She lifted it and frowned at the way the girth swung, connected at only one side. She caught the other end to inspect the buckles and see if they’d broken, but they were all solid and strong, and still laced through the billets, which had been cut through with a clean strike, as from a knife’s blade. Addy’s blood ran cold. While Luke’s attendants brushed at the dirt upon his clothes and fussed about the way he held his ankle, Addy waved Conall over and showed him the billets. He bit off a ferocious oath. “That’s sabotage—” “That’s murder,” she whispered. “Or would have been, if he’d landed any worse than he did.” Conall looked up at her, his face pale and taut with fear. He fingered the cut end of one of the billets and looked back over his shoulder, to where Luke was standing, trying to flex his ankle and grimacing. He caught Conall looking at him, and called to them, “What is it?” “Gods,” Conall muttered. “He’s already running himself to death’s door. This will not help any.” Addy glanced at him, then at Luke. “It’s well beyond field repair,” she called back to him in answer, and handed the saddle off to a servant. “You’ll have to double up.” Luke accepted this with little more than a nod, and Conall shot 183

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her an appreciative glance. “We can worry about these damned assassins well enough on his behalf,” she told him briskly. “No need to make him fret anymore than is needful.” “I could kiss you,” Conall said with feeling, and she laughed. “Don’t you dare. Go kiss your husband, you tease.” While Conall helped Luke mount, Addy returned to Nume. She’d picked herself up and was twisting wrists and ankles, checking herself for injuries. Her dress was ruined with dirt, she had scrapes on her arms and another on her cheek. There were dirt and twigs in her hair, but otherwise she seemed fine, and she gave Addy a reassuring smile as she neared. “Luke?” she asked, gesturing to him. “He is…not well?” “He hurt his leg, that’s all. He’ll be fine.” Addy brushed a leaf from Nume’s hair. “Do you need help getting back up on your horse?” Nume shook her head. “Thank you. No.” She pulled herself up into the saddle, then beamed down at Addy proudly. “See? I am better.” Addy smiled up at her, despite the unease that still rested heavy on her heart. “You are getting much better. You’ll be riding circles around the rest of your countrymen before they know it.” When Addy had mounted, too, Nume gestured down the path, the way they’d been headed. “You saw?” Her face shone with excitement. “Yes?” “The stag?” Addy gazed down the path where the creature had disappeared. “Yes,” she murmured. “I saw it.” “Stag?” Nume scoffed. “White hart. You said it is not here.” “It shouldn’t be,” Addy said quietly. “No one’s seen one in generations.” “An omen.” Nume nodded. “Good for Luke.” 184

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“Yes. Very good for Luke, actually.” They wheeled their horses around and joined the others as they all started back to the city, making slow progress so as not to unduly jostle Luke’s leg. Addy watched him from where they rode, a little ways behind him. Even now there were whispers passing through the rest of the group, gossip and speculation about what it all meant, that Luke’s hunting party had been the first in generations to encounter the white stag, the symbol of the gods’ blessing and benediction. It couldn’t be taken as anything but a good omen. Even Darrin couldn’t manage to twist it to something damaging, though surely he would try. While the rest of the party speculated about the hart, all Addy could think about were the severed billets. What use was a good omen when someone in their own court was trying for Luke’s life? *

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Conall had Luke settled in bed by the time Addy was able to get to him, his back propped against a mountain of pillows. The physician was there already, she saw with relief. They’d taken Luke’s boot off and had his pants cuffed up to the knee. His ankle was red and inflamed, swollen twice its size. “Oh, Luke.” She came over to sit next to him on the bed. “How are you?” “He’s being a damned fool,” Conall growled, turning from where he’d been pacing at the end of the bed. He had his arms crossed tight over his chest, and his expression was set with displeasure. “That’s what.” Addy looked at Conall, and then at Luke, who didn’t look any happier. “Goodness.” She sighed. “What’s happened now?” 185

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Conall had a sheaf of papers in his hand, clutched so tight he’d rumpled them. He brandished them, then passed them over to Addy to look at. “What’s this?” “It’s a letter from Emperor Shukio.” Luke sighed and pulled his hands through his hair. “There’s no need to read all that, Addy. The point of it is, he says if I do not marry Nume promptly, he’ll bring her and the entire delegation home, and cut off our alliance negotiations completely.” Addy’s gaze flew up from the papers, her heart dropping down into the very pit of her stomach. “What? But Nume— She— How long? Has he said how long you have to comply?” “I’m not going to comply.” Luke shifted up abruptly. He groaned at the movement, and Conall and the physician both snapped at him to lie down. He scowled at the physician, gave a somewhat softer look to Conall, and settled back down before turning his attention back to Addy. “I don’t intend to marry her any more now than I did before she arrived, of course. She’s been very pleasant to have around I’ll admit, much more so than I expected, but surely you didn’t think I’d grown that fond of her—” Addy’s head snapped up. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean that, I just— It’s only—” She broke off, digging her teeth into her lip, and pushed up to her feet to walk a few steps away, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “Addy?” Luke’s voice rose sharply with surprise and bewilderment. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, of course, I just—” She waved a hand at him over her shoulder, struggling for control of herself. “It’s just been rather a lot of excitement for one day, that’s all. I’m overcome.” Luke tried to ask another bewildered question, but Conall 186

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interrupted him. “Lad, don’t be daft,” he said softly. “Her heart’s breaking, of course.” He paused a moment, then continued, droll, “You might have been a bit gentler in breaking the news to her.” “But I don’t understand.” Luke sounded more and more bewildered by the moment. “Addy…Addy, are you crying?” “Of course not.” She hadn’t been, not quite, but the question made her eyes burn even fiercer. She sucked in an unsteady breath and wiped at her cheeks just to be sure. She plastered a false-bright smile on her face and turned back to face him. “I’m just tired, and worried for you, that’s all. You scared me near to death when that horse threw you.” But he hadn’t been the one she’d rushed to first, and if Luke hadn’t noticed that, the shrewd look Conall gave her said that he certainly had. “I’m fine. Addy, come here.” She came because it would have been too cowardly not to, when he was bed-bound and could do nothing about it. She knelt down next to the bed and bent over it, clutching his hand between both of hers. He brought his other one up, and she shut her eyes as he stroked it over her hair. “Tell me the truth. Is what Conall said true?” “Oh, honestly, lad,” Conall scoffed. “You hurt your leg, you didn’t blind yourself. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that she’s a little in love with your Ilian princess.” “What?” Addy lifted her head to gape at him. “Love, no, it’s not that at all. It’s just— She’s very—” She bent her head again, and this time she was crying. Luke made a small, pained sound as her tears dripped down onto the back of his hand. He pulled out of her hold and brought his hand up to her cheek, brushing the tears away with the pad of his thumb. 187

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“Heavens, Addy.” He sighed. “I thought you’d never lose your heart to anyone. What a knot this is.” “Well, it’s not one that needs sorting out today,” Conall said briskly, coming forward to join him. “It can wait a while.” He caught Addy’s gaze. “Six weeks is the answer to your question. He’s given Luke six weeks to marry her, or send her home.” Addy nodded and pressed the backs of her hands to her cheeks, struggling to contain the trickle of tears. Six weeks was time enough to make it count, and enough of it that she’d be a fool to waste it all in weeping now. She dried her eyes again, and did a better job of it this time. “Does anyone else know what he’s said?” “The Ilians received their own letters. They know.” Which meant it would only be a matter of time until Nume did, too. And unlike Addy, she wouldn’t have a brother to comfort her. She took a steadying breath and got to her feet. “I’d best go see her, then.” *

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Luke drew a sharp breath when the physician pressed fingertips against his ankle. He glanced up at Luke, his expression grave and his brows furrowed. “You’ve been giving it the rest it needs, haven’t you?” “Yes, yes.” Luke looked from the physician to Conall, who was all the way across the room, pressing his shoulders to the wall as though he wanted to step through it. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression dark and displeased. He caught Luke’s eye for a moment, then his gaze slid away to the physician. “He hasn’t set foot out of that bed since we put him 188

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into it. I’ve seen to it.” He had, it was true, despite Luke’s many protests. In fact, the physician was only there because Conall had been troubled by how tired Luke had been recently. Luke had insisted it was only that his body needed rest while it healed, and Conall had stood just as he was now, stern and unhappy and frowning down at him. He’d insisted they call the physician out again, and Luke had protested, but he hadn’t the stamina to fight with Conall. He’d relented, and the physician had come, and looked over every inch of Luke’s body because Conall had insisted upon that, too. “I can give you laudanum, for the pain,” the physician said now, looking troubled. “It will help you rest.” Conall swore and moved away from the wall, striding toward them. “He can barely keep his eyes open as it is! What good will drugging him out of his mind do?” “Conall,” Luke protested quietly, but it only made Conall turn his ferocious glare on him, rather than the physician. “It will let him rest,” the physician snapped. “That’s what.” Luke pushed himself upright in the bed, propping his back against the pillows behind him. “No. No laudanum.” Conall was exaggerating Luke’s weariness, but all the same, Luke didn’t want to take anything that was bound to make his exhaustion worse. He summoned a smile for the physician. “It does not hurt so much as that.” The physician stiffened, drawing his shoulders back. “Sire—” “No. The poultice we’ve been using on my ankle has helped. We will continue with that treatment.” The physician readied the poultice with an air of aggrieved discontent. When Luke’s ankle was wrapped and propped up again, he took his leave with an admonishment to call him again if 189

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it continued not to heal, or if he had any other complaints. Luke watched him leave, then turned his attention to Conall, who still had his shoulders pressed to the wall and his arms crossed before him, looking as stony and guarded as a fortress. “It is not so bad as all that,” Luke tried, hoping for any reaction at all other than this distant anger. Conall glanced at him, then blew his breath out in a rush. His hands, wrapped around his elbows, clenched tight enough that the tendons stood out in his wrists. “How can you say that?” His voice lashed like a storm squall on the ocean. Luke pressed back deeper into his pillows, away from him. “You have been laid up in bed a week and you have grown worse each day, and you think to tell me it’s not bad? Lad…” He groaned and furrowed his fingers through his hair. “A week ago, you fought me tooth and nail to get out of that bed, and I near had to pin you there to keep you in it. Now, you’ve been upright for scarcely a moment and you look ashen. Do not tell me it’s not bad.” His voice shook with intensity, and that frightened Luke more even than the leashed anger in his expression. “I—I am resting. That is all. It’s nothing to be concerned about.” Conall spun away with a snarled oath and stared out through the window. His shoulders were drawn tight as bowstrings. “Resting?” he breathed. “You are wasting away before my very eyes.” The thought of arguing the matter with Conall made Luke want nothing more than to slide down the bed, burrow under the covers, and sleep until he’d gotten over his anger. He did not suppose that doing so would allay Conall’s fears any, so he simply sighed and shut his eyes. “I twisted my ankle. I am not on my death bed.” Conall was quiet for long enough that Luke began to wonder if 190

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he’d said the wrong thing entirely. At last, he gave a heavy sigh and came to sit on the edge of the bed, half-twisted so his thighs pressed against Luke’s knee. Luke smiled and reached a hand to him. Conall took it, but didn’t return the smile. He ran his finger over Luke’s knuckles, his expression drawn and pensive. “Lad.” He spoke slowly, something dragging his words down, making them heavy, weighty. Luke shifted on the bed and tensed, waiting. “Do you remember what you said to me, when we rode into the city?” Luke shook his head, mystified. “I’m sure I said many things to you on that trip. Remind me?” The corner of Conall’s mouth turned up, just a little, but there wasn’t any humor in his smile. “You told me I could take a boat out upon the lake if I missed the sea too keenly.” “I did, yes.” Luke angled his head to the side. “Do you want to? I thought you’d decided that a boat on a lake was a poor substitute for a ship on the waves.” Conall grimaced and looked down at his lap, where he still held Luke’s hand in his. “It is. But it’s a far sight better than nothing.” “We’ve yachts you can take your pick from, if you want—” “What I want, lad, is for you to come with me.” He looked up and met Luke’s eye, then, and his gaze was blazing with ferocity. “We can stock it with provisions and leave all this mess behind us. Give you a chance to really rest. You won’t be any good here until your ankle heals up anyway. Come with me. We can bring the girls along, and let them have these last weeks together without those damned Ilians running them ragged.” “Weeks? No.” Luke would have bridled, if he hadn’t been so tired. “You can’t be serious. I can’t be gone for so long.” “Gone?” Conall scoffed and gestured out the window, where 191

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they could both see the lake gleaming in the distance. “It’s not as though we won’t be easily reached if there’s some dire emergency.” He squeezed Luke’s hand hard, settled his expression into something even harder. “Lad, you promised me.” Luke sighed and extricated one hand from the blankets to scrub at his forehead. “I promised you a boat on the lake. Not weeks.” Conall’s expression remained doggedly obstinate. Luke’s strength only lasted against his for a moment, and then he sighed. “It means this much to you?” The corner’s of Conall’s mouth tightened. “The world.” Luke pressed his fingers to the center of his brow. “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “But it will take some time to manage it. We’ll have to get a boat readied, and gods, weeks of provisions—” “Don’t be daft. I can provision a ship for months for a full crew of men in a single day. It won’t take near so long for this boat of ours. We could set off tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Luke stared at him. “But— You’ve gone mad.” Conall gave him a hard look. “I am no such thing. You’ve an army full of servants here to help. And what about your maid? Your sister likes her, and it will forestall the Ilians’ protests some if we have a chaperone accompanying us.” “You can ask her,” Luke conceded, helpless in the face of Conall’s brisk planning. “But it’s her choice. I promised her a life of luxury and ease once we returned, and I won’t have her coming along if she’d rather be home with her husband.” “I will be the very soul of discretion,” Conall promised, and kissed him on the crown of his head. “I’ll tell your sister to start packing a trunk, and send her up to keep an eye on you.” “That’s hardly necessary—” Conall raised a brow, and Luke fell silent. “Very well,” he 192

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grumbled, and watched Conall stride out of the room. He was bellowing orders before he’d even swung the door shut behind him.

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CHAPTER 10 A brisk wind blew in off the lake, through the cabin windows that Addy had thrown open while she helped Nume unpack her trunks. Addy turned her face toward it and grinned. “This was a positively brilliant idea.” She glanced back at Nume, who smiled at her excitement and seemed happy enough, but she still looked shadowed by the specter of her father’s demands. Addy set down the gown she’d been folding and went to her. Nume smiled brighter as she neared, then made a soft, pleased sound of surprise when Addy pressed in and kissed her. She brought her hands to Addy’s shoulders and curled her fingers into her just enough that Addy shivered at the pressure. “Five weeks,” she reminded Nume, drawing back just enough 194

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to speak. “Five weeks, and no damned politicians hovering over us. No diplomats to scold and cluck their tongues. Just us, and Luke, and Conall.” She pressed her lips to Nume’s again and grinned. “And all the kisses you like.” Nume’s smile returned. It looked a little brighter, a little less strained. “Yes. It is good.” She leaned in and stole another kiss. “I am happy.” Addy was dubious, but she had five weeks to make sure that it became truth. Before she could say anything to that effect, a victorious shout drifted down to them. Nume turned to look toward the window, and Addy did, too, then laughed. “That sounded like Conall. Let’s go see what he’s gotten himself up to, shall we?” They went up to the deck and found Conall strutting about like a peacock, his chest puffed out, grinning fit to split his face in two. When he saw Addy, he called out, “They’ve got cannons!” as exuberant as a proud new father. Addy laughed. “They’re ornamental.” “The hell they are. I inspected them myself, they’re perfectly sound.” He looked stung. Addy had to laugh again. “Do you think we’ll have much need for cannon fire, bobbing about on the king’s own lake?” she teased, but the question made the smile slide straight off his face. He glanced out across the water, to the neighboring dock where a pair of skips was also being outfitted, for the guards who would accompany them and stand defense around their boat. Addy sobered. “He’ll be better defended even than he is in the palace,” she assured Conall quietly. He scoffed and dismissed her platitudes with a wave. “If those whoresons try a thing, I’ll have plenty of call to use those cannons, 195

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and you see if I don’t. I’ve never had a ship boarded in all the years I’ve sailed, and I don’t intend to break that record now.” “Come on,” Addy said brightly, to restore everyone’s good spirits. “I want you to teach me how to sail. I’ve never had a pirate for an instructor before. All my tutors will positively die of mortification.” He started to smile, but it faded away half-formed. His expression turned even darker as he gazed out beyond her. “I’m afraid that’ll have to wait.” He skirted around her, heading down the gangway to the dock. Addy followed his gaze and saw Luke and his guardsmen, facing off with a knot of Ilians. “Oh hell.” She would have started down after Conall, but Nume stood frozen at the boat’s rail, her hands curled tight around it, staring down at the interaction between Luke and the Ilians with a painfully fraught expression. “They will make me stay,” she said bitterly. “The hell they will. You clearly don’t know my brother. Or his husband. I think Conall would fall on his own sword before he’d let them make you do anything. He’s a pirate, after all. He knows how to keep a hostage.” Nume offered her a wan smile, but didn’t seem much reassured. Addy tucked her fingers beneath Nume’s chin and turned her face up. “You’re a princess, aren’t you?” she asked softly. “You’re higher ranked than any of them. Go make sure they don’t forget it.” Nume grabbed Addy’s hand and squeezed her fingers tight. She pressed a firm kiss to Addy’s lips and lingered long enough that Addy’s cheeks began to warm. Then she drew back and gave a sharp nod. “Yes. All right.” 196

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They walked down together. Nume let her hand slide from Addy’s as they neared. She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders so that when they stepped off onto the dock, she stood tall and proud. Luke and Conall were embroiled in a debate with the Ilians. Luke was looking increasingly agitated, and leaning too much on Conall’s shoulder for Addy’s liking. Conall was looking increasingly irate. “Stop!” Nume stepped forward into the middle of them all and glared about her with regal disdain. Her gaze lingered longest on her countrymen. “I go. Yes. I choose. You all—” She seemed to struggle for words for a moment, then made a sharp gesture and said something in Ilian that made them all look like their heads were about to explode. They started to protest, their voices rising with belligerence, but Nume spun on her heel and offered her arm to Luke. “We go now. You need help?” Luke started to protest, but Conall caught Nume’s eye over his head, and together they helped Luke up the gangway to the boat. While they saw him settled comfortably in his cabin, Addy returned to their own to finish stowing the last of their things before they set off. A few moments later, she heard the creak of stairs and the familiar cadence of Nume’s footsteps behind her. “Here, what do you want me to do with this?” she asked, turning with one of Nume’s gowns in her hands, but stopped at the sight of Nume riffling through her trunk, her expression resolute as tears dripped down her cheeks. “Oh! You can’t cry.” Addy rushed to her and folded the other woman into her arms. “It’s absolutely not allowed, not while 197

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you’re on a pleasure cruise.” She cradled Nume’s cheeks in her hands and dusted her face with kisses. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” “Stop.” Nume’s hands tightened on her, trying to still her. “I do not need— Stop, please.” Addy drew back enough to look at her. Nume pressed her hands to her cheeks and drew a deep breath, but when she released it, it was ragged and unsteady. “Five weeks,” she said unhappily. “I do not want to be leaving.” Addy dragged her into her arms and crushed her with her embrace. “We’ll think of something. I promise. We have to.” Nume nodded silently and held her tight. *

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“Addy!” Conall shouted, leaning out over the rail of the stern deck. “Come up here and take the wheel.” Addy leaped up from where she had been sitting, playing farobank with Nume and Mrs. Ginnings in the shade of the main sail, and ran up the steps to where Conall stood at the helm, holding her skirts gathered up in one hand. “Truly?” He grinned at her. “I promised, didn’t I? Did you doubt my sincerity?” “Not at all.” She elbowed him aside and took hold of the wheel’s grips. “Teach me.” “First things first. I may joke about her being no bigger than a teacup, but for all that, she’s still a hefty beast. She’ll take a bit to respond to your direction.” He took hold of the grips and spun the wheel to the right until it locked tight and would go no farther. Slowly at first, then more dramatically, the boat swept in a broad 198

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arc to the left. “It’s backward,” she cried in surprise. Conall beamed at her and nodded. “Don’t forget that. The wheel points the rudder, not the bow. Now steer us back to starboard.” It took Addy a moment to recall which direction starboard meant, then she gripped the wheel and turned it hard to the left. The ship leveled out, coming out of its turn and driving through the water straight ahead for a moment, before tilting into an equally broad, lumbering curve to the right. Addy grinned, pleased to the very tips of her toes. Conall laughed and pointed to a peak on the far side of the lake, far to the left of the ship. “Steer us over there, will you? Our hijinks have made our envoy fall back so we don’t trod over them, and I want to take advantage of it.” Addy nodded and turned the wheel to the right again while Conall took the steps two at a time down to the main deck. Just before the boat’s bow was pointed at the peak Conall had indicated, she straightened out the wheel. The boat eased out of its turn, skimming through the water straight toward the mountain range in the distance. Addy beamed with satisfaction and, now that they were headed in the right direction, took her gaze from the horizon to look down at Conall, who was stalking back and forth along the rail, inspecting the gleaming cannons who thrust their snouts out over the water. Mrs. Ginnings and Nume, too, were watching him curiously. Conall motioned to them and said something that the breeze snatched away before Addy could hear it. They both stepped back and brought their hands up to their ears as Conall pulled a small 199

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tinder box out from his coat pocket. Addy clapped her hands over her ears as well just as Conall struck a flint onto the cannon’s fuse. Silence stretched for a moment, then the cannon roared and spat flame and smoke with a percussive force that slammed into Addy, as solid as a fist. Nume staggered back, and Mrs. Ginnings brought her hands to her mouth. Conall recovered first of all of them, whooping with laughter and jumping up onto the rail, grasping a line of rigging as he looked out across the water to where the shot had dropped into it. “I’ll be damned. I told you they weren’t ornamental.” Addy came down to the main deck, jelly-legged. “You’re going to get the guards riled up, thinking their king needs defending,” she warned him unsteadily. “Nonsense. I told them before we left port I wanted—” His voice trailed off, distracted, as he looked away from her. Addy followed his gaze, but she couldn’t see anything, just a tall mountain whose lee they were slowly coming out of. “Get back up to the wheel. Quickly, now.” Addy frowned. “But we’re holding steady.” “Go on.” He gave her a little push toward the stairs. She blew out her breath and went, frowning at him over her shoulder. Just as she reached the wheel, a wind hit them broadside, and the boat shuddered. Quickly, she grabbed the wheel and adjusted to keep them heading in the right direction, but though she wrestled it around as far as it would go, the wind kept pushing them off course. Down below on the main deck, Conall grabbed a line of rigging and hauled on it. The yardarm swung around, turning the sail at an angle to the wind. As quickly as blowing out a light, the ship stopped fighting her and settled. The bow swung once again to 200

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point toward their peak. Conall climbed up to the stern deck with Addy and grinned at her. “And there’s your next lesson. You can’t steer a ship with the rudder alone.” “We’re not exactly equipped with a crew,” she observed. “Oh, it’s a small enough boat. Between the two of us, we can manage well enough.” He broke off when, below them, the hatch swung open and Luke limped up on deck, scowling. “Conall, what the devil— Are you trying to give us all apoplexy?” Conall leaned out over the rail and waved down to him, grinning. “What did I tell you, lad? Not only are those guns functional, they’re absolute beauties.” Luke turned and tipped his face up to them. He sighed, and his expression eased into one of bemused exasperation. “Were we being attacked, Captain? Did an enemy ship threaten to board?” Conall came down to him, and Addy followed behind. “Not yet, anyway,” Conall answered. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t ensure all our equipment was in working order.” Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s a pleasure cruise, Conall. We’re on the lake behind my own city. We’re not sailing treacherous waters.” Conall caught Addy’s eye briefly. The set of his mouth tightened, and she knew he was thinking about the attempts that had been made on Luke’s life already. But when he looked back at Luke, there was nothing of that left in his expression. “Hobbled all the way up here on your own, did you? The physician will have my head for letting you out of bed.” Luke frowned and scoffed. “You are both tyrants.” He limped toward the shade where Mrs. Ginnings and Nume were resting, 201

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until Mrs. Ginnings hurried to his side and slung his arm about her shoulders to help him. “I am feeling quite well enough to limp down a hall and up a flight of stairs, in any case.” “Are you?” Conall looked him over. “You are looking a far sight more yourself, I’ll admit it. What did I tell you? Not even two days out on the water and you’ve already made more progress than you did in a week back in that damned palace.” “It’s the quiet, restful company I keep,” Luke said dryly. And, more sincerely, “And Mrs. Ginnings’s fine cooking, no doubt.” “No doubt,” Conall agreed, sending the woman a warm glance. But then he stilled, his expression growing distant and, slowly, clouded. Addy was still trying to puzzle out why when Luke turned and caught sight of Conall’s expression. “What is it?” His face grew pale with alarm. “Conall?” “Damn me to the depths of the ocean,” Conall breathed. “I’m the greatest fool on land or sea.” “Conall.” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “They’ve been bringing your meals up to you since the fall, already prepared. Damn it, I didn’t even think—” “What?” Luke snapped, his brows lowering. “Conall, what are you talking about?” “Poison,” Conall said, and Addy went cold. Luke stared at him. “It’s why you never got well, why you’ve been so weak, why suddenly you’re making such rapid improvement now that they’re not feeding you every meal.” “But that’s absurd.” Conall’s expression darkened. “It’s not. It makes perfect sense. Someone’s tried for your life three times already, why not another?” 202

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“But you can’t—” Luke stopped, grew still. “Three times?” Oh Conall, you idiot, Addy thought with a sigh. Conall looked startled for a moment, then grimaced and rubbed a hand over his jaw. Luke’s eyes narrowed. “The ransom exchange, when they tried to bribe you to kill me.” “Yes.” “And that man whom the guards prevented from breaking into our chambers.” Conall cleared his throat. “Yes.” Luke waited. Everyone on the deck was silent, watching the two of them. “And?” “Your horse,” Addy said quietly. Luke’s gaze swiveled to her. “Your saddle didn’t break. The billets were cut.” Luke’s face went ashen. He limped over to a seat and lowered himself onto it, leaning his head in his hands. “Darrin.” Conall snorted. “Or someone with a reason to want him on your throne.” “But—” Luke struggled to get his feet back under him. “We have to—” “Now look, lad. We didn’t tell you because it’s the last thing you need weighing on your mind when you’re meant to be resting and healing. There’s a reason I brought you out here in the middle of this lake, with water all around and cannons to keep anyone we don’t care to entertain at bay.” Luke raised a brow at him. “I thought you brought me out here because you were growing restless without a ship under your feet.” Conall flashed him a grin. “That, too.” *

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A few more days passed, and Luke’s strength continued to improve with each one of them. Conall grumbled good-naturedly that at least when he had been ill, it had been easy to keep him on bed rest, but Luke saw the relief in his eyes every time Conall looked at him, and knew it was only a joke. “I’ve had my fill of sitting and lying down,” Luke complained at last, and Conall cast him a shrewd look, then went off to ask the girls if they all might like a swim. The idea was met with resounding approval from all but Mrs. Ginnings, who declared that flailing about in a frigid lake was not her idea of a grand time and she’d stay on deck and keep an eye out for scoundrels. Conall went to find the boat’s ladder for Luke to climb down while Addy and Nume stripped down to their shifts. Addy dived in straight off the side of the boat and came up on the opposite side, laughing and sweeping her sodden hair out of her face. Nume followed after, jumping in feet-first and sending Addy into peals of laughter when her shift buoyed up around her like a balloon. Luke waited until Conall had the rope ladder affixed to the side of the boat and then climbed down to join the girls while Conall watched his progress with concern. Luke pushed away from the side of the boat, floating on his back, and called up to Conall, “Aren’t you going to join us? Don’t tell me the big bad pirate is afraid of swimming in a little lake.” Conall raised a brow, then hopped up onto the rail and jumped out, pulling his legs up to his chest in mid-air so that when he landed, he sent up a massive wave of water. The girls shrieked with laughter as it crashed over them, and Conall came up smirking. “How’s that for afraid, lad?” Luke laughed. “I stand corrected.” 204

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“You certainly do.” Conall swam up to him and hooked on the waist of Luke’s trousers beneath the water. He jerked Luke toward him. “Afraid of a little shallow water, pah.” “It’s a very deep lake, actually.” Conall shot him a look and Luke broke off his protest, laughing. “Not half so deep as the middle of the ocean, of course.” He braced his hands on Conall’s shoulders to keep them from drifting into one another. Conall’s fingers brushed Luke’s stomach as he slid his hand around to the front of his trousers, and pulled him in again with a quick jerk. Luke laughed, struggling to keep the distance between them, but his hands were wet and slipped from Conall’s shoulders. “This is hardly the place,” he said, laughing. Conall raised a brow and sent him a grin full of mischief. “It’s as good a place as any.” Another tug, gentler, and their hips bumped together. Luke slid his hands down to push at Conall’s waist. “Feeling better, lad?” Luke shook his head, and had to bring one of his hands back up to Conall’s shoulder when he tried to lean in and nip at Luke’s throat. “Addy and Nume are right there,” he whispered. “You’ve no shame at all.” “No,” Conall agreed. “None to speak of.” He caught Luke’s hand and pulled it away so he could lean in again. His lips worked over Luke’s shoulder. “They’re not paying any attention to us. And even if they were, there’s nothing to see.” The feel of Conall’s lips on his skin made Luke’s breath catch in his throat, desire rising in him in a way it hadn’t since before his fall. Since a while before, if he were being honest. It made him want to abandon his efforts to keep the distance between them and pull Conall against him instead, so he could feel him all along the 205

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length of his body. He fought to recall all the very good reasons he’d had just a moment before for why this was a terrible idea. “Mrs. Ginnings—” Conall gave a full-throated laugh. “Well, we know how she feels about you and I and the things we do together, don’t we, lad? You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Luke stared at him in consternation. “I thought you didn’t like having an audience.” “Who’s looking?” Conall’s hand strayed lower. He laughed when Luke sucked in his breath and tried to kick away. “In fact, if you were capable of any restraint at all, no one would have any idea what we were up to.” Luke couldn’t help but think of how easily the water concealed them, how buoyant they were within it. They could tug their pants down and hold on to one another, Luke could wrap his legs around Conall’s hips and they could just float as they fucked, rocking with the rhythm of the waves… Conall grinned as though he knew what Luke was thinking and approved of it. He skimmed his lips up Luke’s throat. Luke let him. “I bet if we asked nicely, we could get the girls to swim around to the other side of the boat.” Heat flushed across Luke’s skin. “I— We should—” Conall hooked his ankle behind the calf of Luke’s good leg, using it to draw them in against one another. Luke dug his teeth into his lip, biting back a quiet moan. “I mean, we shouldn’t—” Conall chuckled against his skin. his hands slid down Luke’s back, curved into the muscles of his ass. “Sure about that?” “No,” Luke whispered. But over Conall’s shoulder, he caught sight of Nume looking toward them, and swimming closer. He pulled back reluctantly, but grateful all the same for the excuse. 206

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“Luke,” Nume said when she saw that she had his attention, and then continued in Ilian: “I was wondering… Have you had sufficient time to think about my proposal?” “Proposal?” Luke echoed, half-distracted as he tried to extricate himself from Conall’s embrace. Conall kept running a foot up the back of Luke’s thigh, or sliding his hand down Luke’s stomach to his groin beneath the water level. “The matter of an heir, of course. I did not make the suggestion in jest. And now— Well. Time is running out.” Luke jerked back. “Gods. That again?” He only realized after he’d spoken that he’d lapsed back into Samari, but Nume’s study of the language had progressed enough that she understood him. “Yes,” she insisted, swimming closer as Luke tried to paddle backward. “Luke, I like your country. I like your”—she glanced at Addy first, then at Conall—“your family. We get along well, I think. You’re a good man. I’ve enjoyed myself here. Who’s to say any of that will be true with whoever my father decides to marry me to, when you tell him you will not have me?” She drew a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “I do not want to leave.” Luke shut his eyes and shook his head. “This is not the way.” “Have you thought of any other? You need an heir. I need—” She twisted her hands together, just at the level of the water. “I need a reason for my father to let me stay.” “This is not the way,” he repeated gently. Addy swam over to them and caught Luke’s arm. “What did she say to you?” She stared at Luke with large eyes. “Heavens. You turned white as a sheet.” Conall cast Luke a sidelong glance and snorted. “From the snatches I was able to understand, I gather it’s the baby business 207

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again.” “Oh.” Addy turned, seeking out Nume’s gaze. “I thought— That is to say—” Luke seized on her hesitation, feeling like a drowning man suddenly thrown a bit of flotsam to cling to. “You can’t honestly ask this of me. Not when we all know my sister cares for you so keenly.” He looked past Nume to Addy, and switched back to Samari. “Addy, I couldn’t possibly do this to you. I couldn’t bear to hurt you.” She frowned slowly. “Hurt me?” Her gaze searched his, then she sighed and brought her hands to her face, scrubbing it and leaving it wet when she lowered them again. “Heavens, Luke, what do you want from me? Permission? That’s… I can’t even…” Not permission, he thought desperately. His chest felt too small, every beat of his heart a painful lurch. An excuse. A reason to say no that she will not dismiss. Nume swam up behind Addy and wrapped the other woman in her arms. She murmured something Luke couldn’t hear. Addy turned within the circle of her arms and answered her quietly. “Yes,” she whispered after a moment, her face brightening. “I would like that.” When Nume leaned in and kissed her, Addy wrapped her arms around Nume’s neck and returned it. Luke averted his gaze, found Conall treading water before him, watching him with an unreadable expression. “What am I supposed to do?” Bemusement flashed across Conall’s face. “I can’t tell you that, lad. Neither can Addy. What do you want to do?” Luke let his breath out slowly. “Addy doesn’t want her to leave.” 208

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“True enough, but that’s not what I asked you.” Luke scowled. “What do you expect me to say? I don’t want anyone but you.” “You have me.” Conall kissed him gently. “What else do you want?” “I want my sister to be happy.” Conall gave him a lopsided grin. “That’s cheating, but I’ll let it pass.” His hands slid down over Luke’s arms. “Do you want a child?” Luke leaned his brow against Conall’s and gave a weak laugh. “It has never been a question before. A king must have an heir.” “There is that.” Conall’s hand slipped around the back of Luke’s neck, comforting and close. Luke shut his eyes. “I want this to work,” he whispered. “If it can. I do want an alliance with Ilia. I do want Addy to be happy. If I don’t have to give you up for it.” “Well, then.” Conall kissed him again. “There you have it.” *

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Conall had been sitting with Luke, idly rubbing his shoulders and arms, which were sore from the exercise of swimming, when a knock sounded on the cabin door. “Expecting visitors, are you?” he teased as he rose to answer it, but Luke shook his head. The sight of Nume stepping through the door to join them sent a shiver of trepidation through Luke. She wasn’t even properly dressed, wrapped only in a dressing gown with her bare toes peeking out beneath its hem. Conall passed a hand over his mouth, hiding a grin behind it, but Luke just looked at her. “Yes? Can I—” 209

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Nume said something quiet to Conall. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, then caught Luke’s eye over her shoulder. “All right, lad?” “Yes, but—” The trepidation turned to frantic nerves when Conall stepped out of the cabin and shut the door behind him. Luke stared at Nume as she took a small step toward him. “Heavens. You meant now?” She eyed him like a flighty deer as she closed the distance between them, as though she’d bolt if he made the slightest movement. He took some small measure of relief in the knowledge that she was as uncertain about this arrangement as he was. “We have scarcely four and a half weeks left until my father must have his answer,” she murmured. “If this is to work… There is very little time.” Luke reached instinctively to reassure her, because she was staring as though she were frightened of him, but even that made her stiffen. He drew his hands back, let them lie awkwardly on his lap as he watched her, standing a few paces away at the foot of his bed, her hands clasped at her stomach. “We don’t have to,” Luke told her, helplessly, because even though it had been her suggestion and they did it at her insistence, she looked like he was the last person in the world she wanted to be alone with. But if he’d meant his words to change her mind, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. She squared her shoulders and dropped her arms to her sides. “I am not here because I have to be.” She untied the sash that belted the robe and let it slide off her shoulders. Luke’s gaze shied away from her automatically. But that was absurd, as absurd as being nervous. He steeled himself—if she 210

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could do it, so could he—and made himself turn his gaze back to her, and meet her eye. She stood as straight and proud as if she were before the court, dressed in the finest garments available. Neither of them moved for a moment, and Luke couldn’t bring himself to move his gaze away from her face, until at last a wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You may look, if you like.” He hadn’t wanted to, had even fostered some vague hope that perhaps they could do all that was necessary and he wouldn’t ever have to do so. But with permission given and Nume watching him with that expression of faint bemusement, it was yet another thing that seemed ridiculous to be stubborn about. They were meaning to conceive a child together, the most intimate of acts, and yet it was looking at her that made him want to squirm where he sat? She was meant to be your wife, he reminded himself. If things were as we’d intended them to be, it would be my right to look at her, all the days of our life. But things were not as they’d intended them to be, not any of them, and she would never be his wife. She wasn’t his. He wasn’t hers. The whole situation was a farce. He let his gaze slide over her, just once, head to toe and back again. She seemed all curves everywhere he might look, sinuous lines that made his gaze follow them away, with nowhere to stop and linger and rest. And she was pale—she was so pale. Her dark hair hung forward over her shoulders and her skin seemed as white as talc in comparison. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but think of how Conall was all shades of gold, from the rich tan that darkened his skin to the sun-bleached streaks of honey in his darker hair. He was rich and warm and vibrantly alive, and Nume looked…like 211

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porcelain. Like something precious and delicate, tucked away where it would be safe from damage. She came toward him, a single step. He sat up straighter on the bed and carefully bent his legs so she had room. But she took another, and it brought her up right before him. She reached for him, her hand spread wide as though she meant to plant it against his chest. He flinched back, instinctive, then sucked a breath through his teeth and leaned forward as though to make up for it, deliberately pressing against her touch. Her gaze flicked down to where her fingers spread over the linen of his shirt. She fingered his collar, her gaze thoughtful. When she moved her hand down to the buttons, it was all Luke could do to hold still and let her undress him. When the shirt was unbuttoned, he drew away and pulled it off himself. She tried to reach for his trousers, and he was sure she meant only to help him because of his injured ankle, but he caught her hand with his. “It’s all right. I can do it.” She hesitated a moment, then nodded and took her hand back from him. She waited where she was, standing quietly, while he unfastened his trousers and tried to work them down past his hips without jostling his leg. He bent his head over the task as he folded the pants and set them aside, trying very hard not to think too much about the fact that he was now as naked before her as she was. The bed shifted beneath her weight as she climbed up onto it with him, kneeling before him. He felt like a cornered beast, restless and edgy and searching for escape. Another foolishness, when she was half his size and looked as though he could break her with a single thoughtless gesture. She slid forward, and he reached to embrace her. She pressed 212

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in against his chest, and she was warm, but she felt all wrong. Everywhere he tried to place his hands there was only soft, yielding flesh. The thought of how easy it would be to leave bruises on that pale skin made him shudder. She was stiff in his arms as well. Her hands slipped around his back, but she held him without any strength at all. He turned his head to look at her, and she tilted her face up to his. How could it seem like they looked at one another from across a great chasm, when they were pressed as close as two bodies could get? He leaned down to her, halting and uncertain. She rose up to meet him. He shut his eyes, because the thought of looking at her as they kissed was too much for his nerves to take. He missed her mouth, somehow. His lips only brushed the corner of it, and across her cheek. She drew back and they tried again, and managed to get closer, almost matching, but it was still nothing at all like how easy and natural kissing Conall had always been. Even at the start, when he’d been reluctant and uncertain, kissing Conall had been as natural as breathing. She parted her lips for him, but her mouth seemed so small. He wanted her to sweep out and claim his kiss, to lick and suck and bite like Conall would, but she wasn’t so forward, and his attempts to be only left him feeling achingly clumsy. She drew back and looked up at him, blinking slowly and chewing on her lip. “No kissing,” she said after a moment, and Luke sighed with relief. “No. Let’s not.” He shouldn’t have been so awkward. Everything felt wrong, felt off. Conall would know what to do in my place, he thought with a surge of frustrated impatience. Conall would certainly not be sitting here as awkward as a boy gone courting for the first time. 213

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He would be bold, not clumsy. Luke reached for her again, trying to do as he thought Conall might. He took her breast in his hand and stroked it. But that was all wrong, too. His fingers expected solid muscles beneath them. She was soft and pliant, and her flesh gave easily beneath his touch. There was nothing at all for him to hold on to or bear down against. Conall had invited Luke to vent his anger on him once, and Luke’s fists had bounced off of him like rainwater. The thought made Luke queasy now, when he could barely touch Nume without fear of leaving marks. The thought of striking her was horrifying, inconceivable. Conall was strong, sturdy, as unyielding as a mountain, and she… He was beginning to understand his initial impression, that she’d been treated gently and kept tucked away somewhere safe all her life. He couldn’t imagine being indelicate with her. She sighed and pulled his hand from her breast. A line had formed between her brows, and her mouth was set at an unhappy angle. “I’m sorry,” Luke blurted, but her gaze flashed to his. She shook her head. “No. Don’t be. It is— I understand. Perhaps I could…help?” She reached for him. Luke realized too late what she meant. Her fingers curled around his flaccid penis. Luke jumped, shied away without thought. She stilled, her mouth open with surprise, and looked to him curiously. Luke groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know that it will do any good.” There was nothing exciting about her touch. He shut his eyes behind his hands and tried not to think about her, tried just to let 214

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himself feel the sensations of it. It should have worked. There was no reason at all for the touch of one hand to arouse him, and another to have no impact at all. But he remained limp, and he didn’t feel anything like aroused, only frustrated. He leaned his head in his hand and reached down to still Nume’s. She stopped immediately, and folded her hands in her lap as she sat at his side. They didn’t touch at all, not even so much as her leg brushing against his. After a moment, he raised his head and looked at her. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” A faint, sympathetic smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps if I were a pirate, we could make it so.” Luke sighed. “But you’re not.” “No.” She ran her hands over her hair, and tucked it behind her ears. He realized that she wasn’t looking at him, and he wondered if it was because she was shy, or because she was disappointed in his failure. Luke stooped and retrieved his trousers, then stood with them in his hands, looking down at his knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he told her miserably. “You needn’t be.” He glanced at her sidelong, dubious. “You wanted a child, an heir, a reason to stay. I”—he gestured with futile frustration— “cannot provide.” “There is time yet to decide on an alternate plan. Or—” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “It’s possible that another attempt, when you are less nervous, might prove more successful.” “Oh gods,” Luke groaned before he could think better of it, and stared at her in horror. Her brows lifted. He feared he’d insulted her, and tried to 215

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stammer an apology. But she only gave him a wry smile and rose. He sat on the bed—keeping the space between them—as she retrieved her gown and wrapped herself in it once more. When she was dressed, the robe belted securely at her waist, she turned to face him. He was profoundly grateful that she was clothed. He didn’t think he’d have been able to meet her eye, otherwise. “I have no wish to force anything on you,” she told him quietly. “Not a marriage, not myself…not anything.” She came forward and embraced him. She’d already drawn back before Luke could figure out what to do with himself. “Thank you for trying to help me.” He could have almost believed that she meant it, that she wasn’t disappointed at all by his failure. But as she turned away, he saw the way her lips pressed together, and creases formed at the corners of her eyes. He saw the flash of frustration, quickly shielded by her lowered gaze. He should have said something to her—anything—he might have called her back, or apologized again, or agreed that yes, they could try again another time, perhaps it would be nothing like the first. But he couldn’t make himself speak, so he just watched her as she crossed his room and left. When she was gone, Luke groaned and covered his face with his hands. The quiet sound of footsteps on the floorboards made him jerk his head up again. But it was Conall who stood there before him, not Nume, and he looked on Luke with a wry sort of sympathy. “Chin up, lad,” he said. “Think how much worse it would be if you had married her.” Luke laughed, but it was an awful sound, devoid of any humor at all. “That is not helpful.” 216

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“No?” Conall came and sat beside him on the bed. Luke leaned in against him and tried to press his face to the other man’s shoulder, but Conall lifted his head and kissed him gently upon the lips. “Well, you can’t tell me you’re dreadfully surprised by this outcome, are you?” Luke rocked back, looking at him in consternation. “I couldn’t— I couldn’t even—” Conall waited for him, but he couldn’t continue. Conall chuckled and looped an arm around Luke’s shoulder, holding him securely. “I told you I thought her ill-equipped to satisfy you, didn’t I?” Luke’s face burned with mortification. “And what about me being ill-equipped to perform?” Conall laughed at that, full-throated and hard. “Oh, Luke. I think we’ve had ample evidence between us that you’re not that, don’t you?” He pulled Luke into a rough hug and pressed his lips to Luke’s hair. “I’ll prove it to you, if you like.” Luke shook his head and drew back, still miserable. “I just want… I just want to put my clothes back on and forget about every minute of this.” “Well, I can help you with that, too.” Conall took his trousers from Luke’s white-knuckled grip and shook them out. “Give me your leg, then, lad, and we’ll have you dressed again in no time.” Luke couldn’t remember a time when Conall’s proximity and touches hadn’t had him aching in moments, but this time it did nothing at all. He sighed and batted Conall’s hands away when he tried to help him with his tunic, as well. “I hurt my leg,” Luke reminded him. “I can put a shirt on just fine.” “If you insist.” Conall grinned and kissed him, and Luke 217

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couldn’t even find the will in him to lure him into something deeper. Conall handed him the garment and bent to get his boots while Luke finished dressing. He had to allow Conall to help with at least the one boot. Conall kneeled at his feet to help him slip them on. Luke looked down at him, thought about how all he had to do was twist his fingers in Conall’s hair and shift to the edge of the bed and Conall would gladly do the rest. He didn’t even have to fight to keep his hands still in his lap. He wanted Conall here, with him, his strength to lean upon, but the thought of anybody’s touch—even Conall’s—made his skin crawl. “What’s wrong with me?” he wondered with a sigh, murmured beneath his breath for his own ears. But Conall’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Luke. “Where the hell did that come from?” Luke gestured futilely. “I just— I can’t—” Conall’s eyes narrowed even farther. “Hopelessly devoted to the man you married,” he muttered, “and you think something’s wrong with you. You’re something else, lad, you know that? But there is nothing wrong with you.” Luke sighed and slipped down off of the bed into Conall’s arms, but he didn’t protest.

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CHAPTER 11 They found the others up on the main deck. Addy stood at the rail, her hands gripping it as though she’d been leaning out, looking at the water or something swimming along the hull, and had only just turned at their entrance. Nume wasn’t with her, wasn’t anywhere on deck that he could see, but Luke shied away from that line of thinking and refused to let himself wonder what it might mean. “Here, child.” Mrs. Ginnings pushed up from her seat nearby and brought him a bowl of fruit—sliced apples and orange wedges and sweet, plump berries. There weren’t any utensils to be seen, so Luke picked at it with his fingers, and sucked the juice from them. Addy looked back down at the water and Conall settled himself by Luke’s side, nestled close, and stole berries from Luke’s bowl until 219

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Luke slapped his hand. Mrs. Ginnings gave a great sigh and shot them all a stern look. “Well, there’s no sense in this, now is there?” She came over to where Luke sat and pulled him into a brusque embrace. “Child, we all love you, there’s no cause for this at all.” She turned and looked across the deck to where Addy was standing. “Adeline, be kind to your brother.” Addy turned, looking back over her shoulder at them, her expression surprised. “Have I been unkind?” “Of course not,” Luke protested, but Mrs. Ginnings spoke over him. “You’ve not been charitable in the least and you know it.” She raised a brow at Addy’s back. “You don’t think he’s doing this for his own benefit, do you?” Addy hung her head forward, so far her brow almost touched the rail. “No,” she said, very quietly. “Of course not.” She turned, put her back to the rail, braced her hands on it behind her. Her gaze sought Luke’s, but then shied away. “I’m sorry,” she told him quietly without looking at him. “I don’t mean to be uncharitable. I’m only worried, is all.” Mrs. Ginnings settled down next to Luke, on the other side from Conall. “I don’t suppose you could exercise your imagination, and pretend you were with the one you wanted, child?” Luke raised his head and stared at her. “Are you mad? She’s nothing at all like Conall! She’s all soft and…white and… Gods, if I pretended she was Conall, I’d probably break her.” Conall burst into laughter, and Addy covered her mouth with her hand, staring at Luke like she couldn’t decide between mortification and amusement. At last, she dropped her hand and 220

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gave him a faint smile. “You think she’s fragile? Heavens, Luke, have you been paying attention at all?” “I— She’s—” He shook his head and covered his eyes with a hand. “It won’t work. I’m sorry, Addy.” “Well.” Her voice sounded strange, strained. He couldn’t bear to look at her. “It’s not your job to keep me happy, now is it? You’ve weight enough on your shoulders. I’ll not be adding my happiness to your burden.” “But—” “Hush,” she snapped, too harsh. “I won’t hear of it.” Luke pressed his lips together and ached with frustration. She might not confess it, but he knew his sister well enough to understand her tones. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t even close to happy, and it was all his fault. If only he could— “Hmph!” Mrs. Ginnings said, where she was sitting beside Luke. “It seems to me you’ve all overlooked a rather obvious solution to your problem.” Luke cast her a sideways glance. Beside him, Conall leaned forward to do the same, and Addy turned to look at her from her place at the rail. Mrs. Ginnings looked around at all of them, and heaved out a sigh. “It hasn’t occurred to any of you? Honestly. Luke’s not the only one here capable of conceiving a child with that girl. And who’s to tell that it wasn’t he? Not any of us, I’d wager.” Luke was still trying to work through her meaning when Conall suddenly groaned at his side. “Gods. You can’t be serious.” She fixed him with an unyielding look. “Do you think so? Why not? You’d send your lover in to do the task, but aren’t willing to take it on yourself?” Conall stiffened, glowering at her. “I didn’t send him 221

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anywhere. None of this has been my idea.” “Well?” She stared at him, as disdainful as a queen. “Will you not come to the aid of the man you’ve married?” “Wait.” Luke looked between both of them. “You’re suggesting… You want him to do it? In my place? But that’s— But—” He stared, speechless. But he’s mine, he wanted to say. I don’t want him to. I love him. How can you ask me to share him? He marveled at the fact that Conall had said none of these things, when Luke had been the one to do it. He hadn’t said anything at all. Luke swallowed all the protests that pushed at his lips and tried to think of something else, anything else, to say. “You don’t like girls, either.” He shot Conall a dubious look. “Won’t you just have the same problem?” “Oh, lad.” Conall gave a choked laugh and leaned his brow in his hand. It didn’t cover his whole face, though, and Luke stared at the color that he could see spreading across Conall’s cheeks. “I’m capable of doing any number of things I don’t want to do. I think I’d manage.” “But—” Conall dropped his hand and turned, looking straight at Luke. “Tell me no,” he said quietly, “if that’s what you want to say. No one will think any less of you.” “You didn’t,” Luke whispered. Conall grinned. “Well, that’s because I know if it came down to a fight for your affections, the princess is quite lovely but I’m the better fighter between us. I could take her in a fair match.” He raised a brow, inviting Luke to share in his joke. “And if I had to, I’d take her in an unfair match. There are perks to being a pirate, 222

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lad.” Luke’s whole face burned. “I’m not worried about losing you, I just don’t— I don’t want—” Conall’s smile softened, turned sympathetic. “Well, I can’t blame you there.” He pulled Luke in, though Luke only let him do so reluctantly. He kissed Luke’s jaw, and murmured where only Luke could hear it, “Perhaps I might have been more jealous if I thought it at all likely that anything would happen between you.” “I’m not jealous.” Luke whispered. It was mostly true. Almost true. He didn’t for a moment expect that anything Conall might experience with Nume would pose the slightest threat to his commitment to Luke. If I can hardly bear to touch her for fear of hurting her, he thought wryly, I can’t imagine what he intends to do. Conall was so much stronger than Luke was, so much tougher. Luke couldn’t even conceive of him trying to handle someone soft and delicate. Even when he was at his most tender with Luke, he was still strong, insistent, demanding. “I…I won’t stop you,” Luke said through numb lips. “I still don’t see how you expect to not have the very same problems I did, but if you think you can…” His voice dropped until it was barely audible. “You should.” Conall rocked back, staring at Luke, his expression chagrined. Luke wondered if Conall had been counting on Luke to give him an excuse not to do it. “Gods,” he muttered explosively. “I’m a scoundrel and a pirate and I’ve done any number of dreadful things in my lifetime, but I’m not going to go down there and throw myself at that poor girl without even stopping to get her say so.” He shot to his feet and stalked across the deck to the hatch, snapping back over his shoulder, “You’re all mad, I’ll have you know.” 223

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*

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A rustling sound made Luke lift his head. Addy was coming toward him away from the rail, haltingly, moving like she wasn’t sure of her welcome. He offered her a small smile, the best he could manage, and her face washed with relief. She dropped down next to him and pressed her face into his shoulder so he had no choice but to unfold and wrap his arm about her and be her comfort. It was easier, suddenly, when he had that task at hand, his sister’s comfort and happiness to see to. He drew her in against his side, holding her hard, like he used to when they were children and she was just a little girl and would crawl into bed with him when nightmares woke her. She used to curl into a tiny ball, hard as a knot and shuddering with fear and misery. She almost did so now, leaning in against him and drawing her knees up so her skirts billowed out about her. Luke stroked her hair and tucked her head under his chin. Talking had always helped her then. He’d stayed up with her long into the night, telling her the most ridiculous stories he could conceive of, until finally they’d chased off the last remnants of the nightmare and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. Luke gazed out across the still waters that stretched in all directions around their boat. “Do you remember when Father took us out here, and I taught you to swim?” Addy was quiet and stone-still for a moment. Then she sniffed and shifted a little, almost raising her head. “No,” she said wryly. “I remember Father bringing us out here and you trying to drown me.” Luke gave a breath of laughter against the crown of her head. 224

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“I did no such thing.” “You threw me over the side when I didn’t even know how to keep my head above water. The sailors had to fish me out, and I was afraid to come up on deck with you for days.” Luke smiled and gave her a squeeze. “You didn’t drown, did you?” “Small wonder. The only thing you taught me was that when my brother said, Come here, Ads, I want to show you something, he was not to be trusted.” They’d had this debate before of course, many times, as was the way of siblings. Generally lighthearted, though a few years before Luke had thought they’d been having their usual playful bickering, only to realize that Addy was sincerely upset, her fists balled and her face red, years of bottled up anger finally spilling over so fast and hard that Luke was shocked she never took a swing at him. They’d dropped the teasing and discussed it earnestly, then, the first time they ever had. Addy had cried, and Luke had felt like the world’s biggest ass, but when it was done, it was over, and they were able to tease one another about it without the faint undercurrents of bitterness and resentment that Luke hadn’t even realized had been there all along. So it was now—there was no real heat behind Addy’s accusations, no remaining truth behind the air of annoyance she put on. But it did what Luke had intended it to do—the familiar patterns of their banter had her sitting up, uncurling, tossing her hair over her shoulder and shooting him sarcastic looks. “And now I can swim circles around you,” Addy taunted him, smirking, “so who’s laughing now?” “Brave words.” Luke sent her an arch look. “You wouldn’t be 225

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so confident if your opponent weren’t dreadfully wounded, I think.” “Dreadfully wounded!” She gave a sharp laugh. “You twisted your ankle. I’ve had worse dismounting from my horse, and still danced my way flawlessly through a ball that same night. You’re just playing it up so your pirate will take care of you.” Luke grinned and tucked his hands behind his head. “Wouldn’t you?” She laughed again, a true laugh this time, bright and clear. After a moment, their banter wound down, and Addy glanced toward the hatch, her smile dimming. That one, simple change squeezed a vise around Luke’s chest, too tight to breathe. He scrambled desperately for something else to occupy her attention, to keep both their minds off of what was best not dwelled upon. “Ads,” he said, her childhood nickname, just to watch her turn and look at him and smile. “Settle back here, won’t you?” He gestured to his leg. “I need someone to lean upon. It’s paining me.” “You’re a liar,” she said, even as she did as he asked and wriggled in next to him again. “You’re just too prideful to admit you want a hug from your baby sister.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressed in against his back, and leaned her chin on his shoulder. He reached back, wrapping an arm around her waist, and squeezed her in return. “Perhaps. But if you breathe a word to anyone, I’ll never admit it.” “Oh, Luke. You’re such a stern, imposing figure,” she said, deadpan. “I’m sure your reputation would be damaged beyond all repair if a single soul ever found out that you were fond of your sister. Never fear, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll take it to the grave.” 226

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Luke continued to tease her, about anything and everything they’d ever teased one another over throughout their lives, and she teased him in return until she was flushed, laughing, on her feet and baiting him until Luke pushed himself up and hobbled after her. They chased one another around the deck, shrieking like children, while Addy ducked behind the mast or took shelter behind the wheel, hiding rather than running to cover for the fact that Luke couldn’t manage much more than a limping pace. He didn’t have speed while his leg was healing, but he had cunning, and he knew his sister. When he got too close to cornering her, she ran to the upper deck and taunted him from it, laughing at his plight while he dragged himself up one painstaking step at a time. But when he grew too bold and tried to push himself faster, and accidentally put too much weight on his foot, he gasped as pain shot through it and she was there immediately, grabbing him by the arm and helping him stand, her eyes worried. “I’m fine.” He laughed and shook her off, but she lingered, unwilling to put too much distance between them, until he’d made it up to the deck. When he had, before she could recall the chase, he caught her around the middle and tickled her mercilessly. She shrieked and hurled laughing invectives at him, bouncing her fists off his shoulders. “Blackguard! Scoundrel! Is this what a life at sea has made you? Unhand me, you knave!” He did, eventually, allowing it to seem as though she’d twisted free of his grasp, and then he was chasing her again, and she was tormenting him, dancing just beyond his reach, skittering back every time he took a step, dodging around behind him and pinching his arms, tugging at his hair, then away again before he had a chance to shift his weight around and face her. 227

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Mrs. Ginnings sat below and watched them, smiling indulgently as they cavorted about like they were half their age. Luke was having so much fun, enjoying the sun and the smell of the water and his sister’s company, that when Nume came up from below deck and blinked in the sun, he’d almost forgotten the reason they’d been waiting on her to begin with. Addy froze. Her gaze fixed on Nume, tense and awful to behold. She looked like she had when their mother had fallen ill and they’d waited together, alone, worried sick, knowing only that when the door opened, it would bring with it terrible news. She looked like that now, like Nume was an gaoler who’d come and opened her cell, and Addy didn’t know whether she’d come to grant her her freedom or lead her to the executioner’s block. Nume glanced about. Her gaze landed on Luke first, and she dipped a polite curtsy. It slid over Mrs. Ginnings and finally found Addy, standing above her on the upper deck, leaning out over the rail like she would simply throw herself over, too impatient for trivial things like stairs. Nume ran up the steps and saved Addy from casting herself down to grievous injury. She threw herself at Addy without even the slightest hesitation, wrapped her arms tight and held on like she’d never let go. Nume’s back was to Luke, and Addy was facing him. From the minute she’d stepped up onto the deck, Addy had only had eyes for Nume. But even if she did not see him, Luke could see her, and the aching series of transformations her expression went through when Nume hurled herself into Addy’s arms. Relief, joy, love, pain. Luke looked away. It was too raw, too intimate. It wasn’t meant for his eyes. 228

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When Addy and Nume began to speak to one another, rushed, whispered words, Luke limped away. That wasn’t meant for him to hear, either. But the sound of his too-heavy footfalls must have caught Nume’s attention. She spoke again from behind him, louder, and in Ilian. “He said he wished to bathe, but that he hoped you’d come down and soothe his delicate nerves by playing nursemaid to him.” Luke laughed softly beneath his breath. He could just see Conall saying such a thing, with one brow raised and a crooked grin on his lips, inviting them both to laugh with him. He thanked her and she turned back to Addy as though, her task done, he was as invisible to her as he was to Addy. Luke left them to their reunion. *

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The cabin door was left cracked, enough that Luke could see the light shining through from within. He was gripped by the urge to knock, to request permission to enter, and he might have if it hadn’t been so patently ridiculous. It was his room as much as Conall’s, and Conall would probably tease him mercilessly for indulging the urge to do something so unnecessary. He’d asked for Luke, hadn’t he? Luke pushed the door open without knocking and limped inside. Conall was still in the bath, slumped down so his head floated on the water and his knees jutted up from it. He turned his head slightly when the door creaked shut behind Luke, then grabbed the tub’s edge and sat up. Water dripped from his hair, over his shoulders, into his face. He wiped it away and gave Luke a smile that seemed strained. He reached a dripping hand out, the 229

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bar of soap on his palm. “Come to play nursemaid for me, have you, lad?” “If you like.” Luke took the soap from him and set it aside. He twined his fingers through Conall’s soapy ones, clasped his hand tight. Conall looked down at their intertwined hands. He said nothing for a moment. Then he pulled his from Luke’s and dipped it in the water to wash it clean. “Well, you took your time, didn’t you? I’ve just about finished after all. Hand me that towel there, will you?” Luke reached and caught it, held it out to Conall then moved back so he could climb out of the bath. Water sheeted off of him, exaggerating and emphasizing every line of muscle. He dried himself off briskly, as though it hadn’t occurred to him to notice that he was naked. Luke kept his distance, waiting, and watched him with a sidelong gaze. When he was satisfied, Conall tossed the towel aside and raked his fingers through his damp hair. When he dropped his hands, his gaze sought Luke’s. Luke met it, held it, but just looked at him, unsure what to do. Conall sighed and scrubbed the back of his hand over his brow. “Some nursemaid. You didn’t even offer to help.” “Oh, I—” Luke blinked, taken aback. “Did you want me to?” Conall just stared at him, a line gathering between his brows. Luke fidgeted, made anxious by his expression. At last, Conall blew out a heavy breath. “Have you lost your mind?” Luke bit down on his lip. It was nothing at all like what he’d expected Conall might say. “No.” His voice tore. “But I’ve been going out of it.” Conall’s gaze sharpened. “Have you?” He reached for Luke’s hand again. Luke took it haltingly. He stumbled and gasped when 230

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Conall pulled him forward. Conall’s arms wrapped around him, clenched him so hard it hurt to breathe. Luke pressed his face to Conall’s throat and held on tight. He felt as though the only thing keeping him from breaking apart into a hundred pieces was the strength of Conall’s arms banding his back. “Conall,” Luke whispered against his skin. “Conall, I’m sorry. It’s awful. I don’t know how—” “Hush, lad,” he murmured. “But—” “Hush.” Luke pulled back and looked up at him. “I feel wretched.” Conall’s lips quirked, pulled into a lopsided smile. He wrapped a strand of Luke’s hair around his finger and tugged on it. “Well, you look haggard, so it’s just as well.” Luke pulled back farther and swiped his hands over his face. Conall’s smile softened. He skimmed his thumb along Luke’s cheek. “That’s not what I meant.” Luke stared up at him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, though Conall clearly didn’t want him to. But it was burning through him like acid and he had to get it out or it would eat him up. Conall’s expression twisted, impatience and chagrin. He tugged on Luke’s hair again. “I don’t need an apology from you, lad.” Luke ran his tongue over his lip. Conall’s gaze dropped to it, and he grew very still. “What do you need? Anything. Please, just tell me.” Conall let out a quiet breath. He slid his fingers deeper into Luke’s hair, wrapped the strands around his fist and used it to tilt Luke’s head up. He drew Luke forward again, gently, giving him plenty of time to shift his weight so it wouldn’t jolt his bad ankle. Even when they were standing so close they were touching, it 231

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seemed as though he was still pulling, still urging Luke in closer. Luke braced his hands on Conall’s chest and craned his head to look up at him. Conall bent over him and skimmed his lips along Luke’s. Luke’s shivered open. He flexed his hands, fingertips pressing into the muscles of Conall’s chest. Conall made a sound deep in his throat. His tongue brushed over Luke’s lips, tried to work into his mouth, but Luke felt as though he were standing outside of his own body, watching from a step to the side. He was too startled to speak, too uncertain to kiss back. Conall broke away abruptly and crushed Luke tight against his chest. He pressed his cheek to Luke’s, so his breath blew warm against Luke’s ear. Luke held on to him, bewildered. “I need you to fuck me, lad,” Conall murmured, dragging his hands down Luke’s back. Luke reared back and stared up at him, shocked by the request as well as the ragged need in Conall’s voice. He opened his mouth, started to speak, but Conall groaned, cupped the back of his head, pulled him in again. This kiss was more demanding, needier. Luke slid a hand up to Conall’s shoulder and gripped tight as Conall’s kiss swept him up, bore him away. He kissed back, felt Conall’s breath shudder against his lips, his chest vibrate beneath his palms. All the frazzled uncertainty and aimless distress that had been building up within him suddenly catalyzed into a desperate need to hold on to Conall, to be closer. He curled his arm around the back of Conall’s neck and kissed him, aching with love and desperation. Conall made a wordless sound against his mouth and dragged Luke backward, toward the bed. “Will you?” he breathed without breaking the kiss. 232

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“I promised, didn’t I? Anything.” They climbed up onto the bed. Luke pushed Conall down beneath him, and Conall subsided easier than he ever had before. There was a fearful intensity in his gaze that made Luke’s breath catch in his throat. A shiver of anticipation and something else he couldn’t identify ran down his spine. He tried to stretch out on top of Conall, but he pushed Luke back. Luke sat, kneeling astride him. Conall’s hands ran over him, hungry and greedy. They slipped beneath Luke’s shirt, dragged over his skin, found his nipples and circled them until Luke bit down on his lip and leaned into the touch. Conall pushed Luke’s shirt up. Luke caught the hem and pulled it over his head. Heat spread through him at the way Conall’s gaze slid over him, lingered, the appreciative smile that pulled at his lips. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, lad.” He dragged his hands down Luke’s stomach to his waistband. Luke shut his eyes and reached a hand down to the mattress to stabilize himself as Conall worked his pants open. Heat rushed through him when Conall took his cock in his hand, kept his fingers circled around Luke’s flesh as he began to harden. Conall’s hands were warm from the bath, damp enough that they slipped a little when he began to stroke. Luke drew a breath to fortify himself, trying not to lean forward or thrust into Conall’s fist. When the mattress shifted beneath him and the angle of Conall’s strokes changed, Luke opened his eyes to look down at him. Conall had slid upright, and was folding his legs up beneath himself so he was kneeling. He leaned in and closed his lips around Luke’s nipple, sucking at it. Luke felt his flesh contract, 233

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and shivered when Conall dragged his tongue over it, teasing maddeningly. He continued to stroke, slow movements that tested the limits of Luke’s patience. When he drew away, Luke made a small sound of loss. Conall braced his hands on Luke’s hipbones and pushed him back farther. Luke obeyed, blinking, uncomprehending. Then Conall raked his fingers through his hair to hold it back and bent low. Luke’s hands went to the back of Conall’s head unthinking, rested lightly there at his nape. Conall’s lips grazed the head of his cock. Luke drew a deep breath and rocked his hips forward, gently, closer to a request than a demand. Conall parted, took him in a fraction deeper. His breath was warm, tantalizing, his mouth searing hot. He swept his tongue out over Luke’s flesh, toying with the slit at the very tip of his cock. Luke sucked his lip into his mouth and nudged forward again. Conall took him deeper, deeper, every time he asked for more. His tongue drew trails over Luke’s flesh, left fire in its wake. He took Luke deep, swallowed his length until every bit of him was surrounded by the heat and damp of Conall’s mouth. Luke clenched his fingers tight around strands of Conall’s hair. He fought not to tug, to hold still and not thrust deeper than Conall could take him. “Please,” he breathed, and didn’t realize he’d spoken until he heard the words. He blinked his eyes open and looked down at Conall. His hair was unruly, disheveled by the bath and by the way Luke grasped at it. His back was bowed, a smooth arc Luke wanted to trace with his palms. “Gods. Conall.” Conall made a sound, possibly meant to be a hum of acknowledgment, but the sudden vibration of it around his flesh made Luke gasp and thrust forward helplessly. “Gods! You 234

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can’t— Don’t—” Conall worked his way back more quickly than he had swallowed Luke down, but it still felt like an eternity. Luke was gasping, clutching at Conall to keep himself upright, when he finally let the head of Luke’s cock slip from between his lips. He straightened, looking into Luke’s gaze, smiling. “Don’t what?” Luke fought to catch his breath. “I can’t very well fuck you if you bring me to completion right here, can I?” Conall’s grin spread. “You’re young, lad.” He pinched Luke’s nipple between his thumb and finger, made Luke gasp and press his hips in against Conall’s. “You’d be ready to finish the job soon enough.” “Do you want me to fuck you?” The humor faded slowly from Conall’s expression. It left him looking startlingly intent. “Yes,” he said, a low rasp. “Very much.” Luke nodded, satisfied, and caught Conall’s mouth in a kiss. Conall wrapped his arm around the small of Luke’s back and held on to him hard as Luke bore him down onto the bed. He didn’t break the kiss until Conall was laid out beneath him, making hungry sounds against his mouth. Then he drew back and looked down. Conall’s face was flushed, his eyes dark. As Luke watched, his lips parted and he ran the tip of his tongue out over his lower lip. Luke wanted to follow it, to chase it back into Conall’s mouth and kiss him until neither of them could think of anything else. But he wanted more, too. He braced a hand on Conall’s shoulder and bent. He drew his tongue along Conall’s chest, where he tasted only of clean water and a faint hint of soap. Luke sealed his mouth on Conall’s skin and sucked, gently at first, then harder. Conall murmured wordlessly, but then laughed and pushed on the side of Luke’s 235

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head, pushing him back. “That stings, you know.” “I didn’t mean it to.” Luke pushed up and looked down at Conall. The spot on his collar was already starting to color, an oblong spot of crimson where Luke had left his kiss. Conall glanced down at it, too, and gave Luke a crooked grin. “Is that what you meant to do?” “No.” Luke bent and pressed his lips to the spot again. “But I like it.” Conall laughed as though startled. He brought a hand up and rubbed his thumb over the spot. “Mark me all you want, lad,” he said, his voice warm. “But you might figure out a way to do it that’s a bit less uncomfortable.” “Comfort? Is that what you want?” Luke straightened and grinned down at him. “I would have expected a fearsome pirate to be made of sterner stuff. Jab a stake through your leg and you’re all bluster and pride, but get a little aggressive with my kisses and suddenly you whine worse than a spoiled child.” Conall grunted and reached for him. “Stop talking, lad,” he said with a sternness that Luke recognized as teasing. “You still haven’t given me what I want.” “You want me,” Luke said, and was startled at the surge of possessiveness that burst through him just saying it. Conall didn’t tease him or make light of it or anything else he’d ordinarily have done. A fierceness kindled in his gaze, and he tightened his hands on Luke. “Yes,” he hissed. “You. Right now.” Luke shifted up on the bed, reaching for the drawer where Conall had put their vial of oil when they’d been back at port, seeing the ship was stocked and provisioned. He’d been laughing then, teasing Luke about how they’d have to ration more than just food, if that one bottle was meant to last them all five weeks. 236

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He was not laughing now. His gaze fixed on the bottle, burning with need. Luke worked it open and poured a few drops onto the tips of his fingers. When he slid back, Conall shifted beneath him, parting his legs so Luke could kneel between them. Luke glanced up at him and kept his gaze fixed on Conall’s face as he rubbed the oil in the cleft of his ass. Conall made a sharp, needy sound when Luke’s fingers brushed over his anus. His hips jerked up off the bed. Luke braced his other hand low on Conall’s stomach, holding him down, and stroked again. He lingered this time, circling the muscle at Conall’s entrance, prodding gently. Conall fisted a hand in the blankets at his side. “You’re not going to hurt me, lad. If you won’t get forceful, you can be damned sure I will.” Luke pushed harder on his hips to keep him down and pushed the tip of his finger passed the ring of muscle. Conall sucked in his breath, then released it on a long groan. He tightened around Luke’s fingertip, a quick spasm. Luke held still, waiting for him to relax. It took long moments before Conall drew a shuddering breath, and the pressure around Luke’s finger eased. He waited a breath longer to be sure, then rocked it in deeper. Conall didn’t tighten this time, but he gave a low moan and arched his back off the bed. “Luke. Damn it. Forceful. Stop tormenting me. I need you in me.” Luke raised a brow at Conall’s demand, but he worked his finger in a little deeper at the same time. He couldn’t help but do whatever Conall wanted when he asked like that, breathless and needy. “When you’re the one fucking me, then you can set the pace.” 237

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Conall opened his eyes and pushed up on his elbows, frowning down at Luke. “Who ever taught you to be so cruel, lad?” Luke grinned. “I learned from the master.” “Now that’s not true at all.” Conall dropped down again and pushed his hips up, driving Luke marginally deeper. “I’d never do such a thing.” “No?” Luke started to withdraw his finger, laughing quietly when Conall gasped and swore. “We both know that’s not true.” “I wouldn’t.” Conall bucked his hips up again, tightened down around Luke’s finger, trying to keep Luke in him. “Not if you begged me. Not if you meant it.” Luke pulled out of him completely. Conall snarled an oath and grabbed at him. Luke ignored it and planted his hands by Conall’s shoulders, leaning over him, stretched along his length so that they matched. Conall stared up at him, his eyes so dark they seemed limitless. Luke lowered himself so his weight pressed his chest down against Conall’s, so their lips just brushed. “Beg me,” he whispered against Conall’s mouth. “Mean it.” “Fuck me,” Conall said without hesitation. “Please, lad. I need you.” It was simple enough, simpler than Luke might have preferred. An elaborate, detailed plea would have been gratifying, but for all its simplicity, Conall’s words were painfully honest, stripped to the bone and laid out before him in all its dreadful vulnerability. Conall opened his eyes, looked up at Luke. “I am at your mercy,” he whispered. And Luke found that the last thing in the world he wanted was to deny him. He reached blindly, groping for the bottle of oil. “Are you 238

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ready?” he gasped, fumbling it open and pouring more than he needed into his palm. “Do you need more?” He meant preparation, but Conall grinned wolfishly and answered him, “Always.” Luke shook his head, but it would have taken too much effort to protest and correct him, and it was energy that he didn’t have to spare. He knew Conall’s answer well enough, anyway. Conall spread his legs out wide, a clear invitation. His hips rose off the bed. Groaning and shaking his head, Luke slicked the oil over his own cock and positioned himself between Conall’s thighs. He fit the head of his cock against Conall’s entrance, and they both groaned. “Yes,” Conall gasped. He caught fistfuls of Luke’s hair in his hands and tugged him down. “More. Please.” He kissed Luke, open-mouthed and wanting, insistent and greedy. Luke slowly, slowly eased his weight forward, driving into Conall by slow increments. Conall grabbed at Luke’s waist and curved one hand over his buttock. He hauled at him, trying to drag him in deeper, harder. Luke bent and caught his mouth, bit at his lip in chastisement and kept the pace slow and careful. Conall growled and twisted beneath him, straining. When Luke broke away from the kiss, he grunted, “Damn it, Luke—” Luke curled his hands behind Conall’s neck, thumbs fitted against the line of his jaw. He tilted Conall’s face to his. Conall met his gaze and stilled. Luke stared down at him, watching his expression as he eased in, the way his eyes flickered almost shut, just for a moment, whenever Luke nudged deeper, the way he ran his tongue over his lips until Luke groaned and wanted to swoop down and do it himself. 239

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His body was hard beneath Luke’s, every muscle drawn tight with need, but he kept himself relaxed around Luke’s cock so as not to prevent him from sinking in even farther. Luke bent and licked along the line of Conall’s jaw and thrust a little deeper, a little faster than he had been. A thrill of sheer delight ran through him at the way Conall’s body jerked beneath his, the faint growl in the back of his throat that Luke wouldn’t have been able to hear if he hadn’t been so close. Conall pulled his hands from Luke’s body, groped up and pulled Luke’s from his neck. Luke dropped onto his elbows to keep himself supported, curious as to what Conall wanted. Conall threaded his fingers through Luke’s and clasped their hands together tightly. “Now, lad.” His body arched up as Luke worked himself a little deeper. “Now. All the way. You’re not going to hurt me.” The thought made Luke gasp with a short, breathless laugh. There were some days where he almost believed the facade of bravado that Conall put forth, that there was nothing in the world that could possibly harm him. He was so strong, so sure. Hurting him was rarely a concern that entered Luke’s mind. Some days, it seemed he’d have better chances of injuring a marble sculpture. “It’s not that.” He nudged a little deeper. Conall’s breath hitched. “I like seeing you.” Conall looked curious for a moment, but then he realized what Luke meant and his expression cleared. He chuckled a little. “Well, look your fill, lad. But be quick about it, won’t you?” “I’ll try.” Luke worked one hand free of Conall’s grasp and reached down to curl it around the other man’s cock. Conall’s eyes flew wide. His breath hissed out of him like an explosion. “Fuck.” He thrust up into Luke’s grip. The movement 240

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drove Luke deeper into him. He gave a long, wild groan. Luke’s hold on his control slipped, watching Conall respond like that. He drove in harder, sharper—quick, short thrusts now, until his hips were pressed to Conall’s and he’d taken all of him. Conall was like a wild thing beneath him, groaning and twisting. When Luke withdrew—almost all the way, so only his head was still sheathed inside him—Conall’s eyes flew open. He stared up at Luke, so intense Luke felt shaken by it. “Now, or so help me—” Luke thrust forward and cut him off, a long, smooth stroke, slower than he knew Conall would have liked, but he didn’t stop until he was deep inside him again. He paused at the very end of the stroke, looking down at him. Conall’s chest heaved, but he didn’t protest. “Again,” he groaned, straining up against Luke. Luke couldn’t have denied him if he’d wanted to. He drew out again, thrust forward again, less patient this time. Conall’s breath hissed out of him. “Yes. More. Fuck me, Luke. Harder.” Luke leaned his brow on Conall’s shoulder and drove into him, pulled out and drove forward again before Conall even had a chance to catch his breath. The hand that still held Luke’s spasmed around his fingers, and with the other, he reached up to grab onto Luke’s shoulder. His fingers dug in hard. The slight discomfort of the pressure only made Luke thrust into him harder. Conall tightened around him, all at once at the end of a stroke, so that his muscles were squeezing down all around Luke’s cock. Luke gasped and tried to thrust deeper, unthinking, his head spinning with how good it felt to be in Conall, to be with him like this, gasping and sweaty and straining. He bent, seeking Conall’s mouth blindly with his own. His lips 241

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found Conall’s, as easy as breathing, as though they were meant to be there. Conall’s breath was warm in his mouth, and he tasted faintly of wine, as though he’d been drinking earlier. Luke pressed his mouth to Conall’s hard, sucked and bit at his lips, tangled his tongue with Conall’s. He felt every breath Conall took in the shuddering of his chest beneath him, every swallowed groan or soft cry. He heard it when Conall tore his mouth away and breathed, barely audible, “Harder.” He tightened his hand on Conall’s and obeyed. There was a rushing of blood in his ears, the pounding beat of his heart rippling through him like a shockwave. Conall’s skin burned against his. He felt like he was burning, too, like every time he buried himself in Conall it stoked the flames higher. He bent again, but they didn’t kiss, just gasped against one another’s mouths as their bodies moved together. Conall tugged at him, another silent demand, Harder. Luke already felt like he hadn’t another drop of strength left in him, like everything he had he’d already offered forth. But Conall was making insistent, growling sounds against his mouth and he couldn’t deny him. He wanted what Conall wanted, wanted this ferocity, hands gripping tight and bodies slamming together. Wanted Conall to leave bruises on him, marks like the one Luke had made on Conall’s collar. Luke pounded into him until he hadn’t breath or strength and the only thing driving him on was need, pure and bright and demanding. Conall grabbed at him like it wasn’t enough, even that, like there was no limit to the depths of his hunger. Luke wrapped his arms around Conall’s shoulders and fucked him, hard and fast, until Conall’s eyes shot open wide. His gaze fixed on Luke as his face washed with something like 242

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shock, an instant before he jerked beneath Luke and spurted long jets of semen across his stomach. Luke couldn’t stop, not anymore, not when he could see the satisfaction of release washing over Conall. His body shuddered, tight, violent convulsions, and his muscles clamped down around Luke so hard he couldn’t bear it. He clutched Conall’s hand tight and stared down at him, flushed, sweat-streaked, his stomach sticky with semen and the marks of Luke’s touch on every bit of skin he could see. The mark on his collar was darkening, standing out from the rest of his skin like a blazon. Conall followed Luke’s gaze down to it. He tipped his chin up, baring it more fully. His mouth turned up at the corners. “I’ll wear it proudly.” Luke shut his eyes and shuddered as the first waves of his orgasm rolled through him. He gave a final thrust, locked deep, and poured himself into Conall until it seemed surely there could be nothing left. It was long, long moments before Luke stopped twitching. He had his face pressed hard to Conall’s chest, his hair falling down around him so all he could see was streaks of light and shadow, and the stretch of Conall’s skin beneath his cheek. Conall brought his arms up to circle around Luke’s back, his fingertips dragging down Luke’s spine. Their touch made Luke shiver. After a few moments, when Luke still hadn’t brought himself to move, Conall slid his fingers into the hair at Luke’s temple and pushed it back. He turned Luke’s face up to his. Luke leaned his chin on Conall’s chest and looked at him. He was still struggling to catch his breath, sweat still cooling on his skin. He didn’t have room for words inside him yet, so he just waited, wondering what Conall was thinking. 243

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Conall smiled and brushed his thumbs over the corners of Luke’s eyes. “Remind me why it’s been so long since I asked you to do that?” “Because usually I’m the one begging you,” Luke said evenly. Conall’s tone was warm, inviting him to share in his amusement, but Luke was still too staggered by what had passed between them for levity. Conall’s eyes crinkled. He smiled down at Luke. “Well, I shall have to be sure to pre-empt you some of the time.” It took massive amounts of strength for Luke to push himself up, as though his body weighed several times what it ought to. But he did, and withdrew from Conall as he rose. “Was that what you wanted?” Conall caught Luke’s face in his hands and rolled him over beneath him. “You’re what I want. It was all I desired, and then some.” Luke shut his eyes and nodded and looped his arms around the back of Conall’s neck. But when Conall leaned down for a kiss, he turned his face aside and held on to him hard. “Lad.” Conall’s voice was bewildered. “What’s this? Wasn’t it what you wanted?” “You’re what I want,” Luke echoed with a whisper. He pressed his fingers over the mark he’d left on Conall’s collar. “It’s a beginning.” Conall stared down at him hard, like if he just looked at Luke long enough, he could take him apart and figure out what made him tick. “Gods,” he said at last, revelation rising like dawn on his face. “Don’t tell me this is about Nume.” “It’s about us,” Luke said on a rush. “That’s all.” “Of all the harebrained notions…” Conall started to laugh. 244

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Luke pressed his lips together and tried to roll onto his side, but Conall caught him by the shoulder and pressed him down onto his back again. He rose up over Luke, looking straight down at him. “You’re all I thought about,” Conall told him. “Until the minute you walked in here, all I wanted was to be with you. Trust me, lad, there’s not a damn thing for you to be worried about.” Luke sighed and said nothing. Conall took his chin in his hand and turned Luke’s face up to his, forcing him to look. “Have I ever lied to you?” “You’re a pirate,” Luke said, grudging, and that alone was enough for him to know that he’d already lost this debate. Conall arched a brow down at him. “Were a pirate,” he corrected himself quickly, because it was a point of pride on Conall’s part that he’d given that up for Luke. “You noticed that, did you?” Conall said dryly. “That’s not what I asked you.” Luke pressed his lips together. Conall had done any number of unpleasant things in the course of their relationship, and many of them had been things that had made Luke so angry he could spit. But he hadn’t lied to him, even when it would have been convenient. Even when Luke would never have known. He’d only ever hurt Luke with the truth. “No,” he admitted at last, because Conall’s gaze pinned him, demanding an answer. He’d have crossed his arms over his chest if Conall had allowed enough room between them for it. “Never.” “I’m not about to start now.” Conall pressed his lips hard to Luke’s. “And I’ll tell you something else, while I’m at it. I hope like hell this took the first time, because the last thing I want is to have to do that again. Luke grunted, noncommittal, and tried not to let it show that he 245

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was mollified. “She’s very pretty,” he said, watching Conall’s face for his reaction. Conall grinned, looking relieved, like he knew well enough what Luke was up to. “The only ladies I’m interested in are the ones I can rig with sails and ride across the ocean.” He kissed Luke again, but it wasn’t to make a point this time. He lingered, and Luke let his lips part. “And you’re much prettier, besides.” Luke had to laugh. He shoved at Conall’s shoulders. “Stop that. Pretty. I am not.” Conall laughed. He let Luke push at him again, and rolled over onto his side to free Luke from his weight. But when he tried to wriggle away, Conall caught at him and pulled Luke into his embrace. His chest pressed against Luke’s back, and his legs bent into the same shape as Luke’s. He wrapped his arms around Luke’s stomach and nuzzled against the nape of his neck. “I think you’re pretty,” he murmured into Luke’s hair. “And much better than any girl, besides.” Luke grinned to himself and melted back into Conall’s embrace, so they fit together like two parts of a whole. “I’m crushed,” he said. “My ego will never survive the blow, and never mind my reputation.” “Your ego will do just fine, I’m sure.” He trailed his hand down low on Luke’s stomach, just a hint of suggestion. “I’ll see to it.” Luke shifted beneath his hand until Conall slid it over to his hip. “And my reputation?” “Oh, that.” He felt Conall’s teeth on the back of his neck. “Well, that I’m afraid I shall ruin completely.”

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CHAPTER 12 Addy woke to shouts and the percussion of footsteps running back and forth across the boards overhead. Beside her, Nume was a pale shape against the shadowed cabin, her face tilted up to the ceiling. “What happen?” she asked on a breath. “Sounds bad.” She turned to look at Addy, and Addy turned swiftly away before Nume could catch her gaze. “I don’t know.” She rose and shrugged her dressing gown on over her shift. “Best go see.” They ventured on deck, where the sounds of shouts and running were even louder. Wind whipped about, casting Addy’s hair into her face and throwing clouds across the sickle moon. A figure ran past her. Addy caught it by the arm and it spun with a ferocious growl. A shape whipped up between them, long 247

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and glinting silver in the meager light. A sword. Addy threw her hands up and moved back. “Conall?” It paused, and the blade lowered. “Addy? What the devil are you doing up here?” He caught her by the arm and dragged her back to the hatch. “You get down there, lock your cabin door, and don’t come out for anything, do you hear me? I can’t defend the both of you.” “Like hell.” Addy tore her arm from his and stood her ground. “What’s happened? Is it an attack? I am not going to cower!” He growled again, and the sword lifted a fraction, as though he were sorely tempted to use it on her after all. “I cannot—” Cannon fire roared, and flared bright in the darkness, leaving Addy blinking spots out of her eyes and fighting to see. The boat lurched beneath them with the terrible sound of splintering wood. Conall broke off with an oath. He took her arm again, but this time, dragged her away from the hatch. He pushed her toward the stern of the boat. “Get up there! I need you on the wheel. Steer us broadside past these sons of bitches and I’ll show them the true meaning of firepower.” “The wheel?” Addy stumbled as the deck lurched beneath their feet again. “But I can’t—” “Now, Addy,” he rumbled, and then he was off, dashing across the deck, a darker shadow against the night. Addy squared her shoulders, picked up her skirts, and ran up to the stern deck to take the wheel. The position gave her a clear view over the main deck below, and the chaos that had overtaken it. Even so, she could hardly make out what was happening in the darkness. Shapes ran across the deck, and while it was easy to make out Conall from the flash of the sword as he fought his way to their guns, the rest were a 248

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mystery. The number of them, though, was frightening. There had only been the five of them aboard since they’d left port, but now many times that number seemed to be swarming the deck, clashing and fighting one another with grunts and groans. Addy thought of the two smaller boats that had sailed with them like shadows for the past weeks, filled to the brim with the Rannan guards Luke and Conall had brought back with them. She took some measure of reassurance in the thought that some of the men below were fighting on their behalf, and in their defense. The small shape off the port bow must have been the guards’ ship. A larger shadow lurked on their starboard, nearly as big as they were, and it was from there that the cannon fire had come. Addy pulled the wheel hard to the left, and the boat began its painfully slow tack to the right, curving around the enemy ship to cut across its bow. Just as they were passing the other ship, Conall gave a shout. The night seemed to tear apart around Addy as their own guns roared, shooting long gouts of bright fire and releasing a volley of cannons at the other boat. Conall shouted again, this time full of victory and satisfaction. He turned and seemed to look up at her, though it was nearly impossible to tell for sure in the night. “Don’t let her get alongside us!” he bellowed up at her. “If she hits us broadside, we’re done for.” Addy shouted down an acknowledgment, and glanced back to see that the other ship was slowly turning as well, chasing after them on a parallel heading. If they caught up… She wrenched the wheel around to the right, as far as it would go. The boat listed perilously as it swung around 249

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She held it in the turn long past when it had angled away from the other boat, until they had turned all the way around and were headed back the way they’d just come. Still she held on to the wheel, her fingers aching as the rudder fought her, and they continued until they had come around behind the other boat, sweeping past the stern as they just had the bow. Their cannons roared through the night again, and the fight raged on the deck below. Addy turned her mind from it, and focused only on the wheel and the boats and the orders Conall shouted up to her. The wind blew fiercely, and with Conall too preoccupied with the fight to be able to work the sails, she had to fight the ship for every move. It seemed an eternity had passed before the fight finally waned and the enemy’s boat broke away, limping back to shore with tattered lines and a broken hull. Conall and the Rannan guards put up a victorious cry, and Addy abandoned the wheel to come down to the main deck on unsteady legs. “Is everyone all right?” she asked Conall, practically drooping with exhaustion. “Seems to be, no small thanks to you.” He bolstered her up, setting her on her feet, then nearly knocked her off of them when he clapped her on the shoulder. “You’ve the makings of a decent seaman, mark my words. You’ve done us all proud.” He moved off toward the hatch, called down, “Luke! All’s well. Best get up here.” “I have been, for a fair while.” Luke’s dry voice came from behind them both. Conall spun, and Addy turned. Conall scowled, his expression turning as dark as the night around them. “Damned fool,” he grumbled. “You can’t even walk properly.” 250

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“I am not hiding while you and your men fight on my behalf.” Luke said it smoothly, easily, and seemed to ignore the way it made Conall’s expression set into even harsher lines. “Let’s get some lamps up here, shall we? Then we can take proper stock of the situation.” Addy dropped down to sit on the hatch while the guards scattered to obey Luke’s command. Now that the excitement had waned, she could scarcely keep her eyes open. Just as soon as she had seen for herself that no one had taken any grievous injury, she would excuse herself and crawl back to bed to sleep for a year. *

*

*

In short order, the deck blazed with light, lanterns hung from ever yard and ratline. Luke gathered everyone before the mast and they checked one another for injuries, which were few and mostly minor. One guard brought a man forward and threw him to his knees before Luke. The swaying lanterns threw strange patterns of light and shadow across the boat, but even so, Luke didn’t recognize him. “Who are you?” he demanded of the man, drawing himself up to his full height. The other man spat upon the deck. One of the guardsmen snarled, “Whoreson,” and kicked him in the ribs, then dragged his head back by the hair. “You will show respect to your liege.” Luke crouched and looked the man in the eye. “Who are you?” he asked again, each word slow and deliberate. “A soldier in your guard,” he snarled, glaring up at Luke with pure hatred. Luke shut his eyes and straightened. Beside him, he felt Conall 251

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move forward, heard the man grunt as Conall seized him. “Who do you work for?” Conall’s demand was a low growl. Luke opened his eyes as the silence stretched. Conall had halfdragged the man up off his knees by the hair, but his defiance didn’t waver. “Darrin.” Luke exhaled sharply. “My cousin hasn’t the sense to try to stage an attack like this. Who sent you?” The man’s gaze shuttered, just for an instant. “Leyburn,” he murmured. Luke drew a swift breath. Conall’s gaze slid sideways to him, blank with incomprehension. “Who’s that?” “The Captain of the Guard.” Conall’s hands fisted at his sides. He and Luke regarded one another over the kneeling soldier’s head. “The prisoner who escaped. Damn it, we spoke to him.” Luke ran his thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” “He’d have set men to oversee the preparations for the hunt. To ensure your safety.” He spat the word with a snarl. Luke drew a breath and held it for a long moment, until he felt reasonably certain that he could speak without losing control on the rage that stormed within him. “Yes.” “Why?” Conall demanded of the man on his knees before them. He fisted his hand in the prisoner’s hair and dragged him around to meet Conall’s gaze. The soldier just swept him with a scathing look. “Why me? Or why him?” “Both.” Conall gave him a shake when the man did not immediately respond. He looked away and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I can’t 252

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speak for Leyburn’s motivations. But as for mine…” He lifted his gaze again, meeting Luke’s with a steadiness that was nothing if not a challenge. “He promised me better pay. A better position. What have you ever done for me?” Luke turned away, disgusted. He heard the man make a sharp sound of protest behind him, but he didn’t look to see what Conall had done. “Take him back to your ship.” Luke turned to see that Conall was addressing one of the guards that had arrayed about them, watching the exchange. “See if you can get any more out of him.” The guard nodded and took hold of the back of the prisoner’s shirt, wrenching him half to his feet. “Your orders, sir?” Conall waved them away with a disgusted snort. “Just don’t kill him.” The guard gave a sharp nod, and with his fellow guardsmen, they escorted the man across the gangway to the other boat, leaving Luke standing alone with only Conall, Addy, Nume, and Mrs. Ginnings standing about, feeling the chill night wind more keenly than he had before. “Lad…” Conall’s wary voice cut through the stillness that had descended over them all. Luke squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Well, this is progress, isn’t it? We’ve been wanting to know who was behind all this. Now we do.” He limped to the hatch under his own power, and waved off both Addy and Conall when they moved to help him. “At last, there’s something we can do.” *

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The sun shone bright on Addy’s face, glowing through her 253

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eyelids. She sighed, rubbed her fists against her eyes, then pushed herself up. She sat with the blankets puddled around her waist and determinedly kept her thoughts turned to what outfit she ought to wear that day. Would they go swimming later, when the heat grew oppressive? Had she already worn her gold lawn dress? Should she wear linen for its coolness, or opt for something that would be less likely to show its wear throughout the day? Tedious thoughts, but they were better than dwelling on the empty bed she’d woken in, or why Nume had once again risen, and left, and not even bothered to kiss her good morning. She heard voices before she was even through the hatch, conversation and laughter. Something unpleasant twisted low in her stomach, unhappiness that she’d been excluded from the merriment, though of course it was only her own fretfulness that was to blame. If she’d risen straightaway instead of sleeping the morning through, she could have joined them in it already. They might have meant it as a kindness, to let her sleep as late as she pleased, while she had the luxury. It was hard to see it as kind, when they were all sitting together enjoying themselves, and she was not. There was a moment in which she was able to observe them unnoticed, before anyone realized that she’d joined them. Luke sat with his back against the forecastle wall with Mrs. Ginnings, his injured leg stretched out across the deck, writing something on a sheaf of papers propped against his thigh while trying to evade Conall’s attempts to snatch the quill from him. Conall was making faces and protesting that he hadn’t dragged Luke onto the boat and into the middle of the lake only for him to continue to work himself to death, while Nume and Mrs. Ginnings stifled grins at their antics. Addy felt like a stranger, reluctant to intrude. 254

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She might have gone back down with no one the wiser, but before she could decide Luke called her name and gave her away. She looked back at them all, feeling guilty, like they’d caught her at something illicit when all she’d been doing was standing there. They all smiled in welcome at her, and Luke gestured her over. She took a few hesitant steps, still feeling as though some sort of wall had risen up while she slept and now she stood on the far side of it, isolated. Nume rose and came toward her. She was smiling, too, her steps quick. She didn’t stop until she was in Addy’s arms, her own wrapping around Addy’s neck, kissing her. Addy brought her hands up to Nume’s back. She kissed her back, but the only thoughts that filled her head were of how bright Nume’s face had been, when she’d been watching Luke and Conall, and how it hadn’t shone half so much when she’d been looking at Addy. Nume drew back and looked at Addy. Her brow was furrowed, her gaze confused. She touched the edge of Addy’s eye, the corner of her mouth. “Sad? Why?” “Don’t be silly,” Addy said briskly. “I just woke up. I’m still clearing away the cobwebs, that’s all.” Nume’s frown deepened. “No. Tell me.” Addy blew a breath out and drew away from her touch. Gently, because if she did it violently, then there would be no point in denying it. “There isn’t anything to tell.” She gestured over Nume’s shoulder, toward the others. “What’s all that about?” “Oh—” Nume waved as though it was nothing at all. “Your brother, he is…working. That is all.” “Working, that’s an understatement.” Conall scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “He’s going to put himself back in his 255

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sickbed.” “I am not.” Luke’s face was bright with love as he looked up at Conall, even as they teased and bantered. “I’m just making a few notes, I’ll be done in a minute—” Conall shot her a look of exaggerated patience that said, Look, do you see what I have to put up with? and invited her to share in the humor. Addy smiled at him in response, but it must have come across strained or forced, because Conall’s smile faded and his brows lowered as he looked at her, tilting his head to the side curiously. “Something wrong?” he asked her. “You seem—” “Heavens, I’m fine.” She made herself laugh, like it was amusing that everyone had noticed. Conall didn’t look reassured, and he did look like he was going to speak again. Addy didn’t think she could keep the facade up in the face of another probing question. She turned abruptly and walked over to where Luke and Mrs. Ginnings were sitting. Luke glanced briefly at Conall and raised his brows at her, but to her intense relief, he didn’t say anything except, “Good morning, layabed. We saved some breakfast for you.” “You ate already?” Under better circumstances, she’d have been disappointed to have missed out on the meal. But the way energy buzzed under her skin, making her tense and anxious, she didn’t think she’d be able to make it through a meal gathered around a table with all of them. Her nerves were already threatening to snap, and the day had only just started. Luke gave her an amused look. “Well, we were hungry, and you were sleeping. It seemed like the thing to do.” “Of course.” She rubbed her hands on her sides to hide her awkwardness. “Anything good?” 256

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He grinned. “Mrs. Ginnings cooked this morning. Of course it’s good.” He waved his hand toward the hatch. “Go on, hurry up. It’ll be better warm.” She’d barely started for the stairs when Nume’s laughter made her freeze, just long enough to put a hitch in her step. It was light and soft, and it rolled down her spine like a touch. Addy turned her path toward Nume and Conall like she’d meant to walk to them all along. “Want to come down and have breakfast with me?” “I eat before,” Nume said. “Early. When you sleep.” “I know.” She slid her hand into Nume’s and threaded their fingers together, smiled at her endearingly. “But I’d love the company.” Nume nodded, returning the smile. Addy could feel Nume’s gaze on her profile as they walked, curious and wondering. She could guess well enough what Nume was wondering about, but she said nothing, waiting for her to speak. “Sad still?” she asked at last. “Why? I do not understand.” “No. I’m not sad. Don’t be silly.” She linked her hands, running her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m with you, aren’t I? How could I be sad?” Nume’s lips twisted, a little grimace of skepticism. “You act sad.” “Do I?” Addy looked up at her in surprise. “I’ve no idea what you mean. It’s just cobwebs, like I told you. I’m sure I’ll be just fine once I have some food in me and I’ve woken up properly.” Nume offered her a small, hopeful smile and let it drop. Addy felt like breathing a sigh of relief, but she held it back and just walked with her. The chance that any of the others would come down again, when they’d already had their meal, was unlikely. 257

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They’d have time to themselves while Addy ate, and that would be good. She’d eat slowly, and they could talk, just the two of them. Nume’s hand was still curled in hers as they walked. Addy couldn’t bring herself to let go of it. *

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A few more days passed, and though Addy had told herself that it would get easier as time went on, it didn’t get any better at all. She still carried a weight around with every step that she took, dragging her down and making her exhausted and snappish. She lay in bed with Nume one night, both of them quiet, though neither slept. Nume was stretched out on her back and Addy had curled up, her head on Nume’s stomach. She could hear the sounds of Nume’s breathing through the ear pressed to her skin, a slow, steady rhythm that should have been soothing. Nume stroked her hand through Addy’s hair, twisting locks between her fingers. It should have been lazy and peaceful and pleasant. Addy tried to feel that way, but with her head laying on the warm skin of Nume’s stomach, still flat and soft as it had always been, she couldn’t help but think that it might not be that way for long. Her thoughts led her, like links in a chain, back to the same place, no matter what she tried to turn them to. Always, they lead her back to what they were trying to do. What had already been done. She shut her eyes and spread her hand over Nume’s hip. “What if it didn’t work?” she whispered at last, breaking the silence because she couldn’t keep the fear locked up inside her another moment. Nume pushed up on one elbow and looked down at her. Her hand stayed in Addy’s hair, stroking. 258

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Addy moved the hand on Nume’s hip to her belly, low, where they would first start to see the bulge if all had worked as it was meant to. “There’s no guarantee.” She met Nume’s eye, begging her silently to understand. “It might not have worked. We can’t know. If it didn’t…” Her throat closed off. She cleared it and forced herself to finish. “Then what will you do?” Nume’s expression cleared with comprehension. She slid her hand in Addy’s hair down to brush over her cheek. “I do not know.” Addy had to shut her eyes. They stung fiercely, like she’d splashed something in them she shouldn’t have. “That is not very reassuring.” She opened her eyes again because she had to see Nume’s response. Nume lifted one shoulder, a slight shrug, and gave a little grimace of sympathetic helplessness. “As you say, we cannot know, and cannot guarantee. I do not know. I only hope.” She covered Addy’s hand, pressed it so Addy could feel the warmth of her skin. “Every day, I hope. Maybe it is enough.” She shrugged again. She looked lost. “Maybe not.” Addy pressed her lips to Nume’s stomach, then turned her cheek against it and wrapped her arms around Nume’s waist, holding her hard. *

*

*

Addy floated on her back, drifting in and out of the shade of the boat’s hull, so that the sun flashed slowly between crimson and black against her eyelids. Her shift floated about her legs, tangling on them, but so long as she just floated it didn’t matter. She could hear splashing as the others swam around, shrieking 259

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or laughing or splashing one another. She’d tried to join them at first, when they’d all disrobed and jumped in, but Conall had caught her in the face with a wall of water meant for Luke and when she’d come up, sputtering and wiping the water from her eyes, anger had burned through her so bright and intense that it had frightened her, and she hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at him. She’d excused herself then, pleading exhaustion, to float alongside the boat so they could continue to have their fun. No one had stopped her. So now she kept her eyes shut against the glare of the sun and tried not to listen to them too closely. Not close enough to hear what was being said, or who was speaking, or to whom. Not even close enough to know if it was Samari or Ilian they were speaking, because every time she overheard Conall struggling to address Nume in her own language, it made Addy’s stomach twist like a nest of vipers. It didn’t seem right for them to have something like that to share between them. It should have been Addy that she bowed her head with in secret conversation, something close and intimate and just between them. Not Conall, who seemed to have a surprising amount to say for someone who supposedly only knew obscenities. It seemed as though some of the splashing had drawn closer. She frowned, listening, trying to differentiate the normal sounds of the waves and the boat in the water from that of a swimmer. She tensed, anticipating another splash of water to the face, or perhaps just the shrieks and laughter, too loud and too close. She shifted upright in the water, opening her eyes. It was hard to see anything with the glare of the light reflecting off the waves. But she thought she saw pale hair, not dark. Luke, not Conall or Nume. “What is it?” It came out too harsh, but she 260

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was irritable at his disruption, and at the painful brightness of the sun. She wished she were still floating and alone, still relaxed if not at peace. Luke said nothing for a moment. She knew him well enough that, even blinded, she could well enough imagine the way his brow rose, and the look he sent her, somehow both fond and irritated at the same time. He sighed. “What on earth’s wrong with you, Addy?” She jerked back. If he’d asked her if something was the matter, if there was anything she wanted to talk about—if he’d said anything at all but that—she might have been tempted to confess everything. But his question made her spine stiffen and her brows lower. “Nothing, thank you. I was enjoying myself.” Luke’s brows shot up. “Addy—” She spun and tried to swim away. He caught her by the wrist and dragged her back. “Damn it, Luke!” She shoved at his shoulder, but in the water she couldn’t manage much more than making them both slosh around. “Just let it go.” He looked at her for a long minute. His hand sprang open, and he released her. “Fine,” he said quietly. “I’m sure I can guess what this is about well enough, anyway. But I don’t see the point of it. You know she only has eyes for you, Addy. You know it. And Conall—” He broke off and shook his head. “Conall’s no more eager to repeat the experience than she is. You’ve nothing to be so worried about.” “Don’t you start with me,” she growled, low and glaring. “Do you think no one noticed that mark you left on his throat?” Luke’s cheeks turned red. He stared at Addy and said nothing. “You might as well have written your name on him. So don’t tell me you’re not worried, too. At least I’m honest about it.” She 261

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started to swim away again. “And I don’t feel the need to mark her just to prove that she’s mine.” She grasped the rope ladder that hung down from the deck and began to climb up it. Water cascaded down from her like a waterfall. “Damn it, Addy.” He reached after her, but she stepped up quickly, out of his reach. “Don’t be like this.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m tired of swimming, that’s all.” He let her go, but she could feel his gaze following her all the way up to the deck. She didn’t look down at him, didn’t give any indication at all that she was aware of his continued scrutiny. The deck was empty. The other three were still down in the water, and Mrs. Ginnings must have been chased down to her cabin by the relentless heat of the sun. Addy wrung the hem of her shift out as best she could, then went belowdeck as well, to the room she and Nume shared. She shut the door behind her, then leaned back against it and scrubbed her hands over her face, lingered with the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. She wanted to stay like that, enveloped by the dark, but she was dripping a puddle onto the floor. She pushed away from the door with a sigh and stripped the shift off over her head. She twisted her hair into a rope, wringing a fresh cascade of water from it, then crossed to the armoire and drew out a fresh shift, pulled a robe on over it and sat at the vanity to brush the tangles from her hair, all while steadfastly keeping her mind clear of all thoughts of the things Luke had said. She sat and brushed, long after she’d worked out all the tangles, until her hair was almost dry, brushing and brushing because it was steady, rhythmic, soothing, and it didn’t require her 262

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to think at all. A sound behind her, from the direction of the door, made her rise and turn, fixing a smile to her face, expecting that it was Nume returned to change and dry from swimming. She could have been strong for Nume, smiling and pretending all was well so she wouldn’t worry. But it wasn’t Nume. Luke stood in her doorway, dripping wet and watching her warily. She blinked rapidly at him, her fingers clenching too tight around the handle of the brush, as her facade crumbled apart. She dropped down onto the bed and buried her face in her hands so he wouldn’t see her crying. “I just came down to…apologize… Addy?” “Gods, Luke.” She dropped her hands and glared up at him through her tears. “Don’t be such a martyr. You should be kicking my ass, not apologizing.” He came toward her slowly, and swung the door shut behind him so they had privacy. “You’re going to have to stop crying first.” He sat next to her on the bed. “You know I never could bear to see you in tears.” She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with the heels of her hands, but new tears fell and wet them again. “I don’t— I don’t know— Gods, Luke, what’s wrong with me?” Luke made a low sound and rubbed her back. “Nothing.” She gave a harsh laugh and shook her head. “It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, and I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t help it. I hate it.” He was quiet a moment, his hand a gentle comfort as he ran it over her spine. “Nume, you mean.” From the corner of her gaze, she saw him glance at her, but she didn’t turn to meet his eye. She leaned her head in her hands and tunneled her fingers through her hair. “And Conall.” 263

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She had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from falling apart. It had been easier when she hadn’t said anything, when she hadn’t even acknowledged it. Except that it had been killing her. But now she felt like she’d been ripped open, and how was she supposed to put herself back together? When she didn’t say anything, Luke continued, his voice soft and gentle. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Addy. She only cares for you. We’ve all seen it. If you asked her—” “If I asked her,” Addy said harshly, “she’d tell me what I wanted to hear.” Luke’s hand paused on her back for a moment. “What if the truth and what you want to hear are one and the same?” Addy sighed heavily and dug her fingers deeper into her hair. “It doesn’t matter. I told you, I know it’s stupid. She hasn’t even done anything but talk with him, and I hate it. He makes her laugh—and of course he would, he makes all of us laugh—but when she does it I just…” She sighed again. “Want to claw his eyes out.” “Well.” There was a smile in Luke’s voice. It startled her enough that she lifted her head and looked at him. “I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” She laughed faintly and pressed her thumbs to the corners of her eyes. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.” “To resist the urge to gouge his eyes out? Oh, I’ve battled with that desire, too, from time to time.” “You know what I mean.” “I do.” He caught her shoulder, pulled her around. She blinked up at him, startled. He drew her into a rough embrace, held her tight so her face was mashed against his shoulder. He smelled just exactly the same as he always had, familiar and comforting. He’d 264

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held her like this so many times when they’d been growing up. She pressed her face to his shirt and let the tears slip free. He’d never in his life chastised her for getting his shirt wet. “Conall doesn’t want to take her from you,” he murmured, close against her ear. His arms were strong and solid around her, and he held her so tight her ribs creaked, just as he always had. “And I tell you this—if he tried, she’d laugh in his face. She doesn’t want anyone but you.” His hand slid up, stroking over the back of her head. His voice was impossibly sad. “We can all see it. Why can’t you?” “I don’t know,” she cried, despairing. “I just… I don’t want…” I don’t want to lose her. The thought only made the tears come faster. She drew back and tried to wipe her cheeks dry again, then gave up and just looked up at Luke, wretchedly miserable, letting them drip down her cheeks and off her chin. “Oh, Addy.” He sighed and cupped her face in his hands. “Talk to her. She can reassure you far better than I can.” Addy shook her head again, harder. “No. It’s stupid. I know it is. She’ll just say—” “What? That she loves you? That you’ve nothing to worry about, and she has no desire to crawl into bed with Conall again, and all she wants is your happiness? Are any of those things you don’t need to hear?” Addy frowned at him. She slid back a little farther, so his hands fell away from her. “I know all those things. I’m not going to make her say them just to humor me. She shouldn’t have to.” “She loves you,” Luke said with a great amount of patience. “She’ll want to.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. 265

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He sighed, and pulled her close for another embrace. “You’ll want to wash your face, then,” he said, rising. “I’m sure she’ll be down soon looking to change, and it’s always terribly obvious when you’ve been crying.”

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CHAPTER 13 Addy lay on her back on the boat’s stern deck, the sun in her face, the breeze just strong enough to keep it from being too hot. Nume was lying at her side, close but not touching. Addy was trying very hard to just enjoy her company, or at least seem as though she was. Nume had been growing more and more adamant that Addy tell her what was upsetting her as the days passed, and less willing with each one of them to accept Addy’s assurances that nothing was wrong. She didn’t want Nume to worry, so she kept the corners of her mouth turned up and tried to seem happy. The brush of Nume’s fingers on the back of her hand startled her. She nearly twitched her hand away, but then deliberately laid it down again, touching Nume’s. Nume picked Addy’s hand up and laid it over her own 267

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stomach, their fingers threaded together. Addy blinked her eyes open, choked by a knot of emotion. She rolled toward Nume, head propped on her arm. She wasn’t the only one who was reluctant to bare her heart. Nume hadn’t said one word about the pregnancy that they were all hoping for, not since Addy had asked her what they’d do if she wasn’t with child. Addy might have worried about what it meant, whether she already knew the answer that they were all waiting for—except that every so often she did something like this, holding Addy’s hand or her own to her belly, and her gaze would go distant. When she was like that, Addy could see the worry that haunted her gaze. The sight was enough to make Addy want to say something, anything to brighten her expression and ease her concern. But her throat closed off every time, and she couldn’t bring herself to speak a word. Nume turned her head, looking at Addy. They suddenly seemed very close after all, Nume’s eyes large and dark. Her lips parted. Addy’s gaze slid down to them and she wondered if Nume was thinking of kissing her, if she wanted to, if she intended to. Nume shifted, inching closer. Addy caught her lip between her teeth and waited for her to close the last small distance between them. But the hollow echo of footsteps on the deck below made Nume roll away and turn her gaze up to the sky again. Addy sighed, tightening her hand on Nume’s. She listened to the footsteps that had interrupted them. It must be Conall—Luke was walking on his own just fine now, but he was still favoring his leg. She shut her eyes against the brightness of the sun and listened to Conall stalk across the width of the boat, then back again, then repeat. Pacing? Her brows drew together. She slipped her hand out 268

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from Nume’s, brushed a brief touch against the backs of her knuckles to reassure her, then rolled up onto her knees. She got to her feet and walked to the rail that overlooked the main deck, where Conall was pacing and tugging at a lock of hair in an uncharacteristic display of concern. Addy watched him for a moment, then called out softly, trusting the breeze to take her words to him, “If you’re going to stomp around, could you do so at the bow? You’re giving me a headache.” Conall stopped and turned toward her, his head snapping up. She watched the way his brows drew together, wondered if he’d snap at her for the request. But he just grumbled, “Your pardon, Addy. I didn’t know you were up there.” “Nume, too,” she told him, since he didn’t seem terribly concerned about disrupting her. Perhaps concern for Nume’s comfort would sway him. His gaze flicked to the stairs that led up to the deck, then off beyond Addy’s shoulder. “Oh. Is she?” He tugged harder at his hair, hard enough that Addy grimaced in sympathy just watching. “Come down here a minute and talk with me, will you?” She ran her tongue over her teeth and glanced back at Nume, who was still lying in place, one hand brought up to her brow to shade her eyes from the sun. She didn’t stir. “All right.” A thrill of foreboding went through her as she came down the stairs, wondering what Conall might want to speak to her about—and to speak about in relative privacy, too, since he hadn’t asked for Nume to come down with her—but she didn’t let it show, and just smiled at Conall when she came to stand before him. “Yes?” His gaze flicked sideways and up again, to where she had been 269

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standing at the rail overhead. He dropped his voice to a hush. “How is she?” Addy blinked, nonplussed for a moment. She looked over her shoulder, following his gaze, but all she could see was the weathered rail and the sky beyond it. “Nume?” His breath left him on a rush. “Yes, Nume. Who else might I mean?” Addy’s gaze snapped back to him. “Well, how should I know?” she snapped. “I’m no mind reader.” Conall opened his mouth, then shut it and looked at her in consternation. “I just meant—” She waved it off. “She’s fine, why?” He took his time before answering her, and though his words were all about Nume, his gaze was on Addy, quietly speculative. “I just wondered— It’s been going on four weeks now, and… Well, hasn’t she said anything?” She knew what he meant, but he’d disturbed the fragile peace she’d been looking for, and she wasn’t inclined to take pity on him. “Said anything? Like what? It’s been four weeks…she’s said any number of things to me in that time.” Conall’s breath hissed out. He fisted his hand in his hair and glared at her. “You know what!” He grimaced and dropped his voice with another guilty glance into nowhere. “The baby.” He made his words too quiet to drift up where Nume might hear them. “Has she said anything? Is she—” Addy wrapped her arms around her ribs. “She hasn’t said anything.” “But…” Conall stared at her, nonplussed. “Surely you’ve got some idea, by now.” “What do you want me to tell you, Conall? I’m not a midwife. 270

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And she hasn’t said anything to me about it, so I don’t know.” He gave a frustrated growl and turned away from her, pacing again. Addy watched him through a narrowed gaze, wondering what on earth had him so riled. Luke was up there with them, sitting and watching Conall the same way she was, his brows drawn into a concerned frown. “Gods,” Conall muttered, quiet, almost too faint for her to hear. He wasn’t speaking to her anymore, but she listened anyway. “I don’t think my nerves can take it.” The corner of Luke’s mouth quirked up. “I never thought the waiting would be the part that would break you.” Conall stopped and turned to Luke. They just looked at one another for a moment, like they were speaking silently. Addy wasn’t close enough to witness the exchange, and she didn’t care to besides. She leaned back against the cabin wall with a sigh and tilted her face up to the sky. “What, you thought the act would?” Conall demanded of Luke, his voice heavy with disbelief. “Now, lad, that’s just an insult.” Luke laughed softly and leaned his chin on his knee, gazing up at Conall like he was the only thing in the world worth looking at. “Can’t say I ever expected anything to break you, truth be told. And now here you are, pacing and fretting like you’re already a father.” Conall gave a derisive scoff and waved off Luke’s words. “Well, that’s the goal, isn’t it? I never expected to be fretting over some girl and an infant, lad. I’m not exactly the fatherly sort.” “You’re nervous?” Luke sounded like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Conall turned and frowned down at him. “Well, and shouldn’t I be? That’s a hell of a responsibility.” 271

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“You’re only just realizing that?” Addy interrupted, striding over to them. “It’s been a month. Didn’t you realize what you were getting into at all? Or maybe you were just in it for—” Conall turned, cutting her off with a sharp look. She sucked her breath in through her teeth and looked away, tightening her arms around her chest and practically shaking with the urge to lash out. “Addy,” Luke said. “That’s unfair.” “Lucas Philip Charles Kent, don’t you dare talk to me about unfairness.” Furious tears burned her eyes. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “There’s not a damn thing that’s fair about any of this.” Luke’s eyes widened with surprise. He rose and started toward her, but she spun away. She brought her fists up, pressed them against her brow. She could hear the footsteps behind her, approaching. They were definitely Luke’s this time, slow and uneven. She ran away, across the deck to the bow of the ship, knowing he couldn’t keep up. She could have gone down below and had her solitude, but the thought made her feel claustrophobic. In a rush of bravado, she grasped hold of the rigging net on the foremast and began to climb up, into the sky where Luke couldn’t follow. “Addy!” She could hear Luke’s frantic cry from clear across the deck, but she set her jaw and ignored it, pulling herself up one step at a time until she reached the yardarm. It wasn’t that big a boat. Conall reached the base of the mast before she did the yard and shouted up at her furiously. She eased herself onto the spar, sitting, and stared out at the flat horizon, ignoring him. After a moment, the sound of Conall’s sigh, and then his voice, 272

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drifted up to her. “Don’t worry, lad,” he said. “Go sit before you hurt yourself again. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do something stupid and get herself killed.” Addy shut her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her lids, and tried to pretend that none of them were there at all. *

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It seemed impossible for five weeks to pass so quickly, and simultaneously seem interminably slow. At last, with the deadline for Nume’s father’s ultimatum nearing, they turned their boat for Samar City and sailed home. Addy stood at the prow, leaning out above the bowsprit. The water churned white down below and the wind pulled at her hair. She stared off at the horizon, where they could not yet see land, and marveled at how returning home could feel so much like striding forward into the unknown. Everything would change. It had to, whether it did so for good or ill. There was no guarantee it would be either. These weeks had not been as idyllic as she’d hoped, but at least there had been no courtiers, no Ilians, no Darrin to weigh on their minds or make demands of them. “Addy.” She shut her eyes for a moment at the soft sound of Nume’s voice. Just for a moment, not long enough to cause concern. Then she opened them, turned, smiled. Nume returned the smile with her own and came in to lean against the rail with her, her shoulder pressed to Addy’s. Addy glanced at the point of contact and licked her lip, held herself still. Her first instinct had been to angle away and keep the personal 273

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space that Nume had stolen. Five weeks before, she would not have. Nume’s gaze slid to her at the sound of it. “What do you think?” “About what?” Nume gestured out before them, toward the water or the horizon or maybe something else entirely. “About—anything. You stand here, you look, you sigh… You are thinking. About what?” She put her hand over Addy’s on the rail. Addy’s fingers twitched beneath hers. “I would like to know. Curious. That is all.” “Oh…” Addy leaned her elbow against the rail, her chin in her hand. “I was thinking about the palace gardens, I suppose. Walking through them. Thinking how strange it will be to come back home and find it suddenly changed. Usually I’m there often enough I don’t notice things are changing until it’s already done. I was just thinking about walking through them, I guess. How nice it will be to be able to do so again. I hadn’t realized I’d missed it.” A smile spread like dawn over Nume’s face. She looked so pleased, and so beautiful. “Yes,” she said eagerly. “We should go, when we land. We can walk together. You can show me the new flowers.” Addy’s gaze dropped down to the water churning before their prow. She felt like her heart was writhing with that same restless violence. She slid her hand out from beneath Nume’s because she had to. She didn’t know what she might do or say if she didn’t, but she knew it would be awful. Nume’s lips parted, her expression transforming into one of wounded surprise. She looked down at her empty hand, then back up at Addy. “No? I thought— We do not have to. I only thought you would be happy.” 274

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Addy hung her head, hating that she couldn’t go to Nume and pull her into her arms and kiss her until she was comforted. “Addy.” Nume’s voice broke, and she sounded like her heart had too. She said something brief and heartfelt in Ilian, then sucked in a breath and tried again. “Please. I don’t want the flowers. I want— I want you happy.” “I know.” It was true. She did know it. She just didn’t know what to do about it. “I just…I just need space. I need room to breathe. I can’t think here, with all of you, with nowhere to go to just…think.” “Think?” Nume stared at her wildly. “Think about what?” “Gods. Anything. Everything.” Addy groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I love you, I do. Please don’t doubt that. Just let me sit in the gardens for a few hours and I’ll be right as rain, I’m sure.” Nume shoved her hair behind her ears, then wrapped her arms tight around her ribs. She watched Addy like she expected her to pull a knife at any moment, and she knew when Addy did, she wouldn’t be able to help but throw herself on it. “Alone,” she said, her voice flat and lifeless. Addy knew she could make everything better in an instant. All she had to do was say, No, of course not, don’t be silly, I’d love your company. We’ll have a lovely walk together, and Nume would be happy again. But she couldn’t make herself say it. She felt like she was floundering, drowning, and the promise of a few hours alone in the gardens was the only scrap of floating debris left to her. She couldn’t give it up, not even to ease the pain she’d put in Nume’s eyes. She needed it like breathing. “Yes,” she whispered, hoarse. “Please. I just need space to get my head on straight. Please don’t be mad.” 275

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Nume dropped her head forward. She rubbed her knuckles over her eyes, and didn’t look at Addy when she said, “I am not mad.” It was a lie, or near enough. She might not be mad, but there were a hundred other ways she might be unhappy. But Addy couldn’t ask that, not when she was the one to make her so. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, the greatest concession she could make, and even that made her feel like she was slipping under again. “We’ll have breakfast tomorrow. And then we can walk through the gardens, and I’ll teach you the names of all the new flowers that are in bloom.” “If you want,” Nume said without any real enthusiasm. Addy sighed and furrowed her fingers through her hair. The urge to say something to make this all better pressed at her, and she knew she should. But she didn’t have any words in her, none that wouldn’t make any damage permanent and irreversible. She said nothing, and hoped that once she’d had her chance to breathe, she could be able to figure out some way to make this up to Nume. Nume stayed with her at the rail for a few minutes, then sighed and left without a word. Addy watched her go, but didn’t call out to stop her. She disappeared down the stairs onto the main deck, out of sight, but Addy could hear the indistinct sounds of conversation. She turned her attention forward before she could try too hard to identify who was speaking, or what they might be saying. It would only make her crazier. She stared straight ahead, waiting for the sight of land on the horizon, wishing they were home already. *

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It was early afternoon when the flat line of water on the horizon 276

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gave way to the hills around Samar City, and not much longer than that before they were gliding up to the dock. Conall bustled about, throwing lines down to men on the dock to moor the boat. Addy stood on the stern deck, the highest of the three, and stared out at all the activity below them. It was strange, when the pace of the last five weeks had been so lazy, to suddenly be surrounded by so many people in such a hurry. There seemed to be even more of a crowd than she’d have expected, more of a bustle, people swarming on the dock like ants. “Ilians,” Nume whispered beside her. Addy glanced at her in surprise, but she was staring out ahead. “So many…” Nume looked at them again. She couldn’t make out which ones were the Ilians, but then, they’d all been so unpleasant that she hadn’t taken pains to get to know any of them. Nume would know better than she. “Why?” Nume just shook her head and shrugged. She looked perplexed. At last the boat was secured to the dock and a ramp laid out for them to cross. Luke went first, and he seemed surprisingly somber. Addy wondered if he hadn’t recognized the Ilians, too. The rest of them followed after. Luke stopped just beyond the end of the gangway. The Rannan guards came forward to surround him, and a small bubble of space spread out around them, but beyond that the people facing them were like a wall, and now that they were close, even Addy was able to recognize them as the Ilian ambassadors and diplomats. Their faces were stony, their stances closed-off and hostile. “Welcome back, your Majesty,” said one of the ambassadors. “I trust you have used this time well, and come to a decision about our alliance?” Addy stiffened, an outraged protest rising in her, too strong to 277

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resist. But Luke spoke before she could, and said exactly what she’d meant to. “We have a few days yet.” His voice was frigid. “We will be prepared to give you our decision then, and no sooner.” A low, unhappy murmur went through the Ilians. Their ranks shifted, curling in, collapsing around them so that they were enclosed. Conall stiffened, his hand going to his hip like he expected to find a sword there. He swore beneath his breath when he found it bare, and shifted to put his back to Luke’s. Addy’s gaze flicked from face to face. She was tense, wary at the hostility, but while Conall seemed certain that the Ilians meant them harm, she was just confused. They’d closed them off, but hadn’t made any other move against them. Addy reached for Nume’s hand unthinking. One of the ambassadors came up behind them and snatched Nume’s hand from hers. Addy spun but he ignored her, speaking quickly to Nume in Ilian. Nume pulled at his hand fruitlessly and answered him, still in Ilian, so Addy had no idea what they were saying. But she looked unhappy, and then, when he pulled at her and tried to lead her away, defiant. “Wait!” Addy bolted after them, but he continued to ignore her. He pulled harder on Nume’s hand, forcing her to stumble after him, and came around to address Luke. “We await your decision, then,” he told Luke in a stiff voice, and gave an even stiffer bow. “In the meantime, there are matters of state we must discuss with the princess. If you’ll excuse us.” It should have been a question, but he didn’t wait for Luke’s reply. He dragged Nume away without another word. Addy took two quick steps after them, her heart suddenly pounding, but the Ilians closed in, swallowing them and holding her back. 278

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Addy stared after them, stunned and blinking. When she could, she turned back to look at Luke. He looked just as bewildered as she felt. “What the hell was that?” Luke didn’t have an answer for her. Addy looked back the direction they’d taken Nume. She felt like she had a stone lodged in her throat. “They’re going to lock her away again,” she whispered. Guilt and dread weighed on her, too heavy a burden to bear. She’d been the one to say she wanted space and time. She hadn’t meant this. But the gods had given her exactly what she’d asked for, all the same. *

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The Ilians refused to speak to Luke at all. They sequestered themselves in their wing and ignored Luke, and when he insisted someone speak with him, they informed him that they were still discussing matters of state with Nume and they couldn’t be disturbed. For that afternoon, Luke allowed it. But the next morning, when half the Ilian delegation was missing from the breakfast table and Nume among them, he strode straight to the ambassador’s office and pounded upon the door. “Your Majesty.” The ambassador stared at him as though surprised by the visit. “What can I do for you?” Luke waved aside formalities and strode into the room. “Summon whoever needs to be here,” he snapped. “I mean to discuss what the future holds for our two countries, and I mean to do so now. I will not be denied.” The ambassador blinked at him rapidly, gaping like a fish. 279

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After a moment, he regained his composure. “Of course, your Majesty.” He bowed and scurried away. In a few moments, they were summoned and gathered around the ambassador’s desk. The diplomats positioned their chairs somewhat near to one another, as though to present a united front, and emphasize the fact that Luke sat alone. Luke drummed his fingers on the desktop. He was out of patience with their avoidance and prevarication, so he opened with bold straightforwardness. “I am sure by now Nume has informed you what transpired while we were gone.” He startled them with it, he could tell. They glanced at one another, and one of the diplomats cleared his throat. “We have been informed,” he said stiffly. “And we are prepared to overlook this slight to our honor if you will concede to a swift marriage. A few weeks at most should ameliorate any damage done—” It took all the self-control Luke possessed not to show his surprise. “I did not ask you here to discuss our marriage, gentlemen. The fact of the matter is, your princess may be carrying my heir. The rules of this particular game are changed.” An impatient frown drew a line between the diplomat’s brows. “You’re right about that at least, your Majesty. Things are changed, and you should consider yourself quite fortunate that we are inclined to negotiate with you at all. You have taken advantage of this poor girl, who came to you in good faith, and were it not for the high esteem in which we hold both you and your country, we should have broken off all negotiations and demanded reparations at once.” He spread his hands wide over the desk and met Luke’s gaze with an unyielding expression. “Do not try our patience.” Luke stiffened, straightening his spine and rising up to his full height in the chair. “Is she with child, then?” 280

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The Ilians glanced at one another. The ambassador traced meaningless patterns across the tabletop, his gaze following the convoluted path. “You have ruined her,” he snarled. “Will you or will you not do right by her now?” “I will do right by her in all the ways that count, if she carries my child,” Luke said softly. “But I will not marry her. And I will not consent to let you abduct my child across the seas.” He paused, staring at the ambassador until he saw him start to soften. “So I suggest you stop making ultimatums and start negotiating.” *

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Addy looked haunted the next day. Luke wished he had better news to give her, but the Ilians had been inflexible and unwilling to do anything even remotely like negotiating. They would accept nothing less than marriage, performed swiftly before her condition became clear to all. She was conspicuously absent from the breakfast table again. Luke stared at the chair she should have occupied while Conall fended off the servants who wanted to fill his plate and told them that Luke had already eaten in his chambers. This was true— Conall had insisted on it ever since they’d moored their boat, and Luke had found the idea of being poisoned so troubling that he hadn’t even protested. He attended meals because he would be expected to be there, to be seen, but he didn’t eat. After breakfast, Luke strode into the Ilians’ wing again, this time did not stop until he’d reached the door to Nume’s chamber. He knocked and waited, but when the door opened, it was one of the diplomats who stood on the other side. He came out into the hall with Luke and shut the door behind him before he could even 281

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get a glimpse of the room. “The princess is not taking visitors.” Luke sent him a quelling stare. The Ilian shifted, but didn’t back down. “Tell me,” Luke said quietly, “do you expect me to consent to a marriage without once discussing the prospect with my intended?” The diplomat’s expression hardened. “You have had time enough to discuss the matter with her. What have you been using all this time for if not that, your Majesty?” “That was before we had the matter of a child to consider.” The diplomat’s expression flickered, but he said nothing. Luke blew out his breath with impatience. “I must know if she carries my child or not. If you will not let me speak with her, I shall send my physician to examine her—” “She is not seeing anyone, your Majesty,” the diplomat snapped, his voice venomous. “Send who you like, but they will not be admitted.” Luke bristled, started to respond. The diplomat cut him off with an arch look. “Will you force your way into her chamber, and add further insult to what she has already suffered?” “I will have the truth. I will not consent to allow you to take my child from me. And as no one will discuss with me whether she’s carrying a child or not, I am forced to conclude—” The diplomat’s lips thinned. “She is not,” he said, low and savage. He drew his spine straight and stared at Luke as though he expected him to quail beneath it. “There is no child, and you have no claim on her.” He stormed into the room before Luke could speak a word, and locked the door behind him. When Luke pounded upon it again, he received no response at all. 282

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*

*

*

Two more days had passed, and Addy still had not seen Nume since they’d left the boat. Now the Ilians were leaving, taking Nume with them, and there was nothing to be done about it. Addy stood at Luke’s side, stiff as a plank, as they made a public farewell. He spoke at length, to the people and to the Ilians. Pretty politicians’ lies that didn’t mean anything. Addy kept herself straight, her expression blank, and did not allow herself to search for Nume amongst the Ilians. Luke had arranged for a formal farewell after the speeches, and for Addy to be at Nume’s side as they escorted the Ilians to the city gates. Long minutes for Addy to say everything that had filled her to bursting these past days, and a few moments of privacy at the end to say their good-byes. It was enough. It would have to be. She could endure this, knowing that there would be an opportunity to kiss Nume goodbye at the end of it. She couldn’t listen to Luke’s words, though. Not when they professed respect and friendship for the Ilians, and an enduring bond between the two nations. They were lies, too. There wasn’t a one of them, apart from Nume, whom Addy would have welcomed back to Samar’s shores, and she knew Luke felt no fonder of any of them. She let the words pass over her, so she would not be tempted to give her reaction away. They had opened the palace gates and allowed their people in, though most of those in the courtyard were courtiers and noblemen. Behind them, commoners crowded thick down the length of the 283

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Great Road. A low, indistinct noise rose from all of them, reaction to Luke’s words, to the fact that Nume was leaving and Luke was still married to his Rannan pirate. Amidst it all, came a sudden sharp sound like a hiss, followed by an impact. Addy turned, looking for the source. On Luke’s other side, Conall was already looking alarmed and furious, and Luke— Luke had broken off his speech, one hand pressed to his shoulder around the long shaft of an arrow. Blood trickled down over his fingers and stained his shirt. “Luke?” Addy reached for him, but Conall pushed him back away from her. “Guards! Here to me,” he snapped, and the Rannan guards he’d brought with him surged forward, surrounding Luke, who was looking pale and shocked. He looked down at the arrow thrusting out from his chest and groped a hand out blindly. Addy spun around again, staring out at the crowd, searching their ranks for someone who might have done this. Conall lifted a hand to shield his gaze from the sun and looked elsewhere, higher, as though the attack might have come from the sky. She followed his line of sight, but saw nothing beyond the rooftops and buildings of the city. Was that where he thought the shot had come from? Only the finest archer could have made a shot from such a distance. Conall swore and ran down the steps, shouldering his way through the crowd. Addy darted after him without thought, and with only a glance thrown over her shoulder to ensure that Luke was safe amongst the guards. They had him sitting down, leaning back against one guard for support and looking gray. But he was upright, and he turned his face up to one of the Rannans to say something to him. He was 284

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alive. How many times am I to see my brother nearly killed? she thought grimly. No more. They would end this. She sprinted through the space in the crowd that Conall left in his wake, picking up the hem of her skirt so she wouldn’t trip as her feet flew over the flagstones. “Conall!” she cried when she had nearly reached him, and they had come through the press of the crowd to the other side. He stumbled and turned back to her, his brows lowering. “No, Addy. Go back. Stay with Luke.” “The hell I will.” She set her jaw. “I’m coming with you. Where is he?” He looked at her for just a moment, then sighed and shook his head. He gestured up, to the roof of the building before them. “The shot came from here, I think. Quickly, now.” They ran into the building, which was dark and close, every scrap of space stolen for the tenements that housed the palace staff and servants. Addy followed Conall up the staircase, so narrow the pirate’s broad shoulders brushed against the walls. Three flights up, and they burst out onto the roof. Sunlight blinded her after the darkness inside, but they couldn’t afford the time it would take for her eyes to adjust. She blinked the spots from her vision and turned, searching the rooftop. Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. She spun and chased after it, a small figure at the other end of the roof. A step ahead of her, Conall snarled, “Leyburn!” The man ahead of them stumbled and turned back, just for an instant. Cold resolve slid through Addy. This was him, the man behind all the attempts on Luke’s life. She set her jaw and ran harder after 285

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him. There was another door leading to another flight of stairs at the far end of the building. As he made toward it, Addy cried, “Conall! Cut him off!” He could run faster than she could. She’d never make it down and through the building to the other flight of stairs before Leyburn did. Conall started to protest, then stopped himself, reconsidered, and spun to head for the stairs again. Addy kept after Leyburn, driving him back down off the roof and into the tenements. She couldn’t see him in the narrow staircase, but his boots thundered up to her, reassurance that she hadn’t lost him yet, until they abruptly stopped. Her own breath and pulse pounded in her ears, deafening in the sudden silence. She continued down another half-flight, until the landing opened up and light from an unshuttered window shone in. Beyond it, a sharply angled roof stretched away, joining this building to the neighboring one. Leyburn worked his way across it, crouched low with his arms outstretched for balance. I’ve got you now, she thought, kicked off her shoes, and climbed out onto the roof after him. He had nothing like her skill in clambering across rooftops. She gained on him quickly, until Conall’s voice rose up behind her. Leyburn spun toward them. His feet slipped on the roofing slates and he slid sideways. His feet went out from underneath him and he fell. Conall swore and started out onto the roof, too, while Addy hurried forward and Leyburn scrabbled to grab hold of the roof’s peak. She threw herself to her knees, straddling the peak for stability, and grabbed the sleeve of Leyburn’s shirt just as his fingers were 286

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slipping from the roof’s edge. She tried to pull him up, but he glared at her and shook her hand off. His fingers slid closer to the edge. “No, you don’t.” Addy lunged and grabbed the back of his shirt. “You’re not dying until we’ve had the truth from you.” She pulled at him with all her strength, throwing her weight to the side to help drag him up. Leyburn struggled and swiped at her. “Princess, you’re a damned idiot,” Conall growled as he reached them. He grasped Addy with one hand, helping to stabilize her, and reached down with the other. He grasped Leyburn by the arm and hauled him up easily. “Perhaps.” Addy ducked a wild swing. “I’d like to see you traverse a gabled roof so easily.” Conall gave a humorless laugh and wrenched Leyburn’s arm behind his back. “I’d like to see you walk a yardarm in twenty-foot seas.” Together, they wrestled Leyburn off the roof and back to the courtyard. Much of the crowd had thinned out. Addy was relieved to see the Rannan guards still in a defensive knot upon the dais, and Luke on his feet, though he looked strained. Someone had broken off the end of the arrow so it only stuck out a hand’sbreadth from his shoulder. “Luke!” Addy left Leyburn to Conall and ran up to join her brother on the dais. “Are you all right?” He gave her a wan smile. “I will be bound hand and foot once the physician sees to me, but I’m well enough, Ads.” He looked past her, and all the warmth disappeared from his face. “Bring him to me.” Addy moved back while Conall dragged Leyburn forward and threw him to his knees before Luke. She turned, looking for the 287

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others, and realized with a shock that they were gone. The Ilians were nowhere to be seen, and Nume along with them.

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CHAPTER 14 Addy was like a ghost around the palace after the Ilians left, pale and drawn but for the red that stained her eyes. She walked amongst the courtiers like a thing apart, watching from the edges, silent except when addressed directly. She hardly even spoke to Luke, though he tried to engage her and get her mind onto other things. She was terribly polite, and uncharacteristically withdrawn. And Luke couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as she retreated into herself. Whenever he tried to speak with her about it, she pleaded a headache and disappeared into her rooms. Mrs. Ginnings assured him that she needed time, but it seemed to Luke that all time was doing was making it worse. Every time he saw her she was paler, quieter, her eyes more red and raw than 289

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the last. “What do you expect?” Conall asked him, when he confessed his concern. “What would you have done if that deal with my uncle had fallen through and you’d had to wed some Rannan girl and leave me behind on the seas?” Luke blinked at him, nonplussed. “I’d have been distraught. But I’d have done what I had to.” “Isn’t she? She’s seeing to her duties. She’s doing what she must, even though she feels like she’s died inside.” Conall wrapped his arms around Luke’s stomach and rested his chin on Luke’s shoulder. “It’ll take her a little while to realize that she hasn’t, that’s all. Give her that.” Luke looked back at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn up. “You seem to think you know an awful lot about heartache. How many times did you get your heart broken while plundering the seas, then, Captain?” Conall chuckled, tightening his arms around Luke so he could feel the vibrations going through him. “You nearly left me,” he reminded Luke. “Twice. That’s enough for one lifetime, I think.” There was too much to be done for him to spend as much time with her as he’d have liked. Conall oversaw Leyburn’s questioning and rousting the last of his conspirators out of the palace, but there was still the matter of the trial, which Luke was obliged to oversee, as well as his execution. And then Darrin had to be dealt with— under the weight of Leyburn’s testimony, he admitted that he had conspired to take the throne from Luke, in exchange for granting Leyburn greater power and prestige within his cabinet. Luke could not stomach the thought of another execution, particularly not when Darrin had acted on Leyburn’s direction. He’d never been clever or ambitious enough to try for it on his 290

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own. He sentenced Darrin to exile and turned his back on the whole affair. He had barely caught his breath from that matter when Addy came into his office, looking shaken. “A letter’s come,” she said unsteadily. She showed him a piece of paper she held, folded in thirds, a wax seal broken on the front. Written on the back was her name—Addy, not Adeline, and nothing more. “From Nume.” Her voice broke on the name. Luke stared at her in astonishment. “She wrote to you? What does she say?” “I don’t know,” she cried, and thrust the letter out toward him. “I can’t read it.” Luke took it from her automatically. “What do you mean—” He unfolded it and realized the problem. The letter was written in Ilian. Addy wouldn’t have been able to read a word. “Please, Luke.” Her voice shook so hard he feared she might burst into tears again. “Won’t you tell me what it says?” “Of course.” He ushered her into the room and shut the door behind her, then dropped into the chair and spread the letter open on his desk. Addy sank delicately into one of the other chairs, her fingers curled around its edge. Luke glanced up at her briefly, then began to read: Addy, I’m sorry, I must be brief. They won’t let me write, but I’m snatching minutes while I can, and I’ll pay a courier to deliver this when we reach the coast. The ambassador is a nightmare. He won’t listen to a 291

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thing I say. But I’ll speak to Father when I get home, and we’ll sort this out. I’ll write to you from every port, and every day once we get home, I promise. Write to me at the palace—your letters will reach me there. Please write. It’s the only thing that will make any of this bearable. I hate this. I’m sorry. I wish I were with you. All my love, Nume Luke glanced up when he’d finished reading. Addy had sunk back into her chair, her hands over her mouth, tears dripping freely down her cheeks. He waited, giving her time. After a minute, her gaze focused and flicked up to Luke’s face. She drew an unsteady breath and wiped her cheeks, offered him a watery smile. “Oh, Luke. Thank you for that.” She rose and stepped toward him, reached out. He folded up the letter and returned it to her. She looked down at it, brushing her thumb over the wax seal. “Are you all right?” he asked her softly. She glanced up at him again, and gave him another brief smile. It seemed a little stronger this time. “Oh yes,” she said. “I am. Thank you, Luke.” She gestured with the letter. “I’d best go find some stationary.” He watched her go, chewing on his nail. There were still wounds there in need of healing. But her step was lighter than it had been since Nume had left, and she’d spoken more to him in the last five minutes than she had in days. 292

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It was a start, and then he thought ruefully that when Conall learned he was right, he was never going to let Luke hear the end of it. *

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Addy received another letter from Nume a week later, sent when they’d stopped for provisions in Trikana. It was heartbreaking how dejected she sounded when she talked about the monotony aboard the ship, and how she was lucky if her countrymen allowed her out of the cabin and up onto the deck where she could take in some fresh air, they were so wroth with her. The next letter told about a terrible storm they’d sailed through, and how it had made Nume so ill she’d been sick for days. They came steadily, if sporadically, since Nume could only send them when they stopped in a port. Addy knew before she’d even read Nume’s letter when she’d arrived home, because the courier delivered a whole packet of them. She wrote nearly every day, and trade ships carried them to Samar in bundles. Addy wrote her long letters in return, about anything and everything she could think of. The latest gossip in the court, a faux pas Conall had made that had had them all laughing for days. Because the only way to get letters between Ilia and Samar was to send them on the first ship bound for the other country, Addy thought nothing when she had to wait a few days between packets of letters, or even longer than a week. She was slow to realize that it had been several weeks since the last had come, but even then she thought little of it. They’d had reports of terrible storms off the 293

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coast as the weather turned determinedly toward fall, and they could have easily delayed the ship’s progress. But two weeks became three, and then a month, and Ilian ships came and went without any letters at all, and Addy had to face the truth. Nume had stopped writing. Addy continued writing her own letters, determinedly reminding herself that Ilia was a very long way away, and any number of things might have happened. Perhaps her father was displeased with her for the way the negotiations had fallen through. She’d said that the ambassador wouldn’t allow her to write— perhaps they’d discovered that she was, and were now preventing it. It could be anything. She kept writing. When another month passed with no new letters from Nume, and no response to her own, Addy’s faith began to falter. She still wrote, but she crumpled up and threw away more letters than she sent. They were all gloomy and awful, endless monologues about Addy’s fears that Nume was tiring of a romance conducted through the long, slow process of letters, and pleas that if that were the case, to tell her the truth so at least she could stop speculating. It wouldn’t have done either of them any good for Addy to send them, and she knew it. She wadded them up and threw them on the fire, and tried not to sink into despair. When a third month had passed and there was still no word, she set her jaw and strode to the King’s Chamber, where Luke sat poring over paperwork. He glanced up as she entered and his expression turned alarmed. He set the papers aside hastily. “What—” “Something’s wrong,” she told him without preamble. “I know it. I can feel it. She wouldn’t just stop writing like this. Not without 294

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saying…something. Something’s happened, Luke, and I can’t just stay here and pretend it hasn’t.” He worried his lip between his teeth for a moment, looking up at her. She waited, and at length he let out a breath and asked her, “What do you want to do?” All the air rushed out of her at once. “I want to go to her,” she said, startling herself just as badly as Luke. “I want to talk to her. To make sure she’s all right.” Luke raised a brow. He asked her, quietly, “And if it’s a simple answer? If she’s stopped writing because she’s tired of it, or because she’s mourned and moved on? You will have sailed a very long way, at very great expense, to discover that it is nothing more profound than the end of a relationship.” Tears burned Addy’s eyes at his words. She wanted to lash out, to strike at him for even suggesting such a thing. But of course, he had to mention it. He was king, after all, and even sending one ship across the seas would tax the country’s treasury. “I have to,” she whispered, desperate. “I have to, Luke. You know as well as I do that she wouldn’t do something like this. Not just because she’d tired of me. Something’s wrong.” Luke nodded slowly, his gaze troubled. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I think you’re right.” He looked up and caught her eye. “I’ll make sure the treasurer knows to give you anything you ask for, to prepare for the voyage. And… If you want to, and he’s willing, I’d be happy to send Conall with you. If something is wrong… Well, there’s no one I’d trust more to have at your back, if you run into trouble.” Addy nodded eagerly, tears of relief and gratitude filling her eyes. “Oh, yes. I’d love his company very much. Oh Luke, thank you.” 295

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*

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Addy’s concerns settled with a task to occupy her. Under her direction, the preparations were made quickly, and within a week they were ready to ride out. Addy was more relieved than she’d expected to have Conall riding out at her side. He gave her a sidelong glance as they waited atop their horses for the wagon to be readied. “What’re you grinning at?” he asked her gruffly. She smiled broader. “Your horsemanship is much improved,” she told him. “When you first came in, I could hardly believe that you rode all that way without breaking your poor mount’s back.” His brows climbed high. “Is that so?” “Indeed.” She laughed. “Now, I hardly feel sorry for your horse at all.” “Such flattery. It will go to my head.” “It was meant to be a compliment,” she told him, smiling. “You’re a quick learner.” “I’m used to riding waves, you know. Not beasts.” She laughed. “Yes. I know.” Soon enough, horses were hitched to the wagon and their small group was ready to depart. Luke approached them. Addy bent low in her saddle to wrap him in a tight hug. “Be safe,” he murmured in her ear. She drew back and smiled down at him. “I’ve the fiercest pirate on the waters to attend me. I’m sure I shall be.” He nodded and moved to embrace Conall, as well. When they’d all said farewell half a dozen times, and hugged a few more, at last they urged their horses forward onto the road, and the wagon lumbered into motion behind them. 296

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*

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They were nearly a week on the road before they reached the mouth of the river and the bustling port city that had built up around it. They took the provisions they needed from the wagons, then parted ways from it. Conall grumbled as they walked along the docks, gazing at the long rows of ships, their masts and sails towering high above them. “I’d be happier if you were sailing out on a ship that I captained,” he complained, not for the first time on their journey. “What do we know about these men? They might be thieves or scoundrels or worse, and we wouldn’t know it until it was too late.” “They might even be pirates, and then I’d be in real trouble.” Conall made a face at her, but he didn’t look mollified. Addy let out her breath. “If you sailed me to Ilia, you’d have to do it under Luke’s flag,” she explained. “And given the way they left, I doubt they’d be terribly happy to see a Samari flagship making her way into their port. It’s easier and safer to book passage like any other traveler.” “I understand that. But I still don’t like it.” “I know,” she conceded. “And if I had the choice, I’d put you at the helm of my ship before any one of these men.” “Your ship?” he protested, and Addy continued ahead, laughing. There were fewer Ilian ships now than there had been months before, when everyone had expected that an alliance between their nations was only a matter of time, and trade between the two countries had been brisk. Now, there was only one Ilian ship in port, and that one just arrived. They’d have to wait to depart until 297

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the cargo and passengers had been unloaded, provisions acquired and repairs made, and goods for the return trip purchased and brought on board. Days, if they were lucky. But if they’d missed this ship, they might have had to wait even longer for another to arrive. They found it easily enough, moored at the end of the long pier. Addy tried to get Conall to find rooms for them to stay in until the ship was ready to leave, while she bartered for passage with the captain, but he set his jaw and gave her a steely look. “If you think I’m going to let you give a man your coin without giving him a once-over myself, you’re mad,” he told her. “They’ll take advantage of you.” Addy sent him an exasperated look. “They’ll do no such thing. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’ve no business sense.” “It’s not you I’m worried about.” She relented at last, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in defeat, because it would take less time than arguing with him. They went together down the dock, and asked a sailor coming off the ship where they might find her captain. “He’s up there,” the sailor said, jerking his chin toward the ship, “overseeing the men. I’ll send him down, if you want to speak with him.” “Yes, please,” Addy said, and she and Conall shifted out of the way of traffic while they waited. She watched sidelong as Conall sized up the ship, raking his gaze over it and grunting to himself. “Think it’s seaworthy?” she teased. He glanced at her and made an obvious attempt to restrain his expression. “She’ll do, I suppose.” He glanced up at the ship again. “So long as her men aren’t completely incompetent.” “Well, you keep an eye on them when we set sail, tell them 298

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how it ought to be done. I’m sure they’ll be thoroughly grateful. Who knows how they managed to sail all the way from Ilia without your guidance? It’s a miracle, truly.” Conall glanced at her sharply when he realized she was teasing. Then he laughed reluctantly and shook his head. “Sorry,” he grumbled. “I told you, I’d much prefer to have—” “Your own ship, I know.” She leaned over, bumping his shoulder with hers. “But since you can’t, I don’t suppose the captain will much appreciate you trying to commandeer his.” Conall made a face. “The hell am I supposed to do for weeks at sea without a job to do and men to oversee?” “I suppose you’ll have to play cards with me. What a dreadful fate.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes. After a few moments, Conall stiffened and said, “Here he comes.” Addy followed his gaze, peering at the gangway, where a tall, broad-shouldered man was striding down to the dock. “How do you know?” she asked him. Conall shot her a dry look. “When you’re in my line of work, you meet your fair share of them. And sometimes your life and livelihood depend on knowing when someone’s trying to pull the wool over your eyes and pass the cabin boy off as the captain. Trust me, I can tell.” Addy smiled. “I do trust you.” The captain reached the dock and glanced around, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. Addy approached him, Conall hurrying after her, throwing out rushed warnings about how to negotiate the cost of their passage properly. Addy elbowed him in the ribs and smiled brilliantly at the captain. He took them in with a quick sweep of his gaze. “You the ones 299

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looking to buy transit to Ilia?” “Yes, sir.” Addy ignored the way Conall muffled a groan. He no doubt protested her use of a title of respect, and would have advised that she start off the discussion sternly, all business, so the captain wouldn’t take them for unseasoned travelers who wouldn’t know better than to pay an inflated fee for a cramped, poorlyfurnished cabin. But Addy had the royal treasury at her disposal, and Luke’s blessing to do what was needed to accomplish her purpose and keep herself safe. She could barter her way to a better price, but paying a little more might incline the captain to think more kindly of them, and they might find themselves in need of his good will. The captain nodded and considered them both closely. “Passage for two to Ilia, then. One bed?” “Two,” Addy said hastily. “But a shared cabin is fine.” She glanced at Conall for confirmation. Conall made a gesture that seemed to say, Go ahead, since you’re not listening to anything else I have to say. “Two beds,” she repeated firmly. “For a fair price.” Conall shook his head in despair at her side. The captain glanced over his shoulder briefly at the hollow sound of footsteps on the gangway, as sailors or passengers came down off the ship. He turned back to Addy, his mouth pursed. “And what do you consider a fair price then, my lady? It’s a long journey, and the weather’s treacherous this time of year.” Conall, she was sure, would have had her say something about how the weather shouldn’t factor into the cost, since the captain would be braving the elements whether or not the two of them were stowed beneath his deck. But Addy hadn’t the patience for it. “Name it,” she told the captain, “and then we’ll see.” 300

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Conall made a raw sound and grabbed her arm, fingers digging tight. She shook his grip off and snapped, “Not now! Heavens, Conall, just let me—” “Addy.” She turned, her brows drawn with impatience. But it wasn’t Conall who had spoken. There was a woman standing before her, and how long she might have been there Addy couldn’t know. Even if she’d noticed her, Addy never would have given her a second glance. Her hair was tied back in a simple knot, disheveled from the wind that blew constantly through the city. She wore plain clothes, rough and simple. She looked like a commoner, and nothing at all like she had when Addy had seen her last. She had her hands clasped together, pressed to her lips, and her eyes shone with joy and unshed tears. The instant Addy met her gaze, recognition jolted through her and all her breath rushed out. “Nume,” she breathed, disbelieving. “But— You— How—” Nume made a little hiccupping sound and threw her arms around Addy’s neck. Addy caught her and held her close, arms squeezing too tight around her middle. “Oh heavens,” she whispered, overcome. She pressed her face tight to Nume’s throat. Tears dripped down her cheeks and landed on Nume’s skin. “Oh gods.” “They lied,” Nume cried, clutching at her, and the words poured out of her until it seemed like she meant to say everything that should have been in the letters that had never been sent. “And I could not say anything, but I could not bear it, and my father wanted me to hide it and I would not. I couldn’t stay. I sold my things and bought passage on the first ship leaving for Samar, and—and now you are here, and I love you.” She caught Addy’s face in her hands and dragged Addy’s mouth to hers. “I love you.” 301

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Addy kissed her, her heart pounding with all the emotions of the past month. After a moment, she drew away and looked down at Nume. “You sold everything?” It explained why she was dressed so plainly. “Oh Nume—” “Not everything.” She smiled shyly and bent to rifle through her bag. She pulled out a book and held it out to Addy. “I kept this. I would not sell it for anything.” Addy took the book and opened it, and realized it was the volume she had given Nume, the Ilian and Samari poetry book that she’d used to study. Her vision blurred with tears, and she had to blink rapidly to clear it. “And you studied, too. I can tell.” Inexplicably, that made the tears burn fiercer. “Oh, Nume, you’re picking it up so fast. I wish I could have been there to help you.” Nume gave her a watery smile. “I am sorry they lied. I wanted to tell you so badly—” Addy shook her head. “I don’t understand. Lied about what?” Nume looked startled, then she laughed beneath her breath. She took another step back, and smoothed her hands down over her stomach, pushing aside the volume of her skirt so that the fabric pulled taut. Addy hadn’t been able to see it before, but now it was clear. She gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. Nume’s stomach was no longer a flat plane. It bulged out before her, too obvious to be mistaken now that Addy knew to look for it. Her gaze sought Nume’s. When Nume met it, she offered Addy a tentative smile, and Addy started crying again, tears dripping down her cheeks in silence. “Oh… Oh heavens. Is it really—” She reached her hands out. Nume took them in her own and pressed them firmly to her stomach. As though it had only been waiting for her touch, the baby inside gave a solid kick against her palm. Addy jumped, and 302

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her mouth fell open. Nume beamed. “You felt it, yes?” “Yes! Oh, Conall—” She turned, searching for him. He was standing near, just enough distance that he wasn’t intruding on their reunion, looking uncertain. His gaze was locked on Nume’s rounded belly, but it flew up, startled, when Addy grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand to her stomach. He protested, pulling at her grip. “Addy, that really isn’t necessary, I’m just— Gods!” Nume laughed and grinned at him. The sound was so beautiful and so longed-for that Addy thought she might cry again. She dragged Nume into another fierce embrace. Conall cleared his throat and put his hand on Addy’s shoulder. “Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s get out of the street.” He looked down at Nume in concern. “Are you hungry? Tired? Surely there’s an inn around here, we can get you off your feet—” Nume laughed at him. “I have done nothing but rest for weeks! I do not need any more. But food, yes, a meal would be wonderful.” She gestured to the shops that lined the docks. “Anywhere would be better that what the ship’s cook has been serving.” Conall nodded briskly, and seemed much more at ease with something to do. “There’s a place just down the way that had wondrous smells coming out of it earlier. We’ll eat there, and then see about renting you a horse for the ride home.” Nume faltered. Her expression looked so uncertain that Addy’s heart lurched, and for an instant she feared she’d misunderstood everything completely. “Home?” Nume whispered. “I was not sure… That is…” She gestured vaguely, and looked at Addy in sudden misery. “I have 303

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nothing. Your book, my clothes… Nothing. No money, no family—they’ve all despaired of me. No title. I was not sure…” She met Addy’s gaze and chewed on her lip. “I did not want to presume…” “Are you mad?” Addy swept her into an embrace. “I don’t care about any of that. Money? What do I care for that? I want you. Nothing else matters.” Nume clutched at her harder, shuddering in Addy’s arms. “I love you,” Addy whispered against her hair. “That’s all that matters.” Nume looked up at her, her face shining with happiness and wet with tears. “I love you, too.” “Come on,” Conall groaned, pulling at Addy’s arm. “The two of you, I swear. Standing around blocking traffic when we ought to be getting her off her feet, and fed, and—” Addy and Nume broke away from one another, laughing. Together, they found a shop that served lunch. Conall bought more meat pies and pastries than the three of them could have ever consumed in one sitting, and they sat around the shop’s small table, eating and laughing and catching up. When Addy reminded Conall that they still needed to find a horse for Nume to ride, he frowned and gave a great show of reluctance at leaving either of them alone unsupervised. Addy countered that she was not about to leave Nume’s side, and Nume took Addy’s hand in hers and linked their fingers as though to punctuate the point. Conall gave in and went off to find a horse, and returned so quickly that Addy thought he must not have haggled at all. Conall wouldn’t let Nume carry anything at all as they packed up their belongings and prepared their mounts to ride. Nume 304

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tolerated it with bemusement and helped Addy saddle the horses instead. At last, the flurry of activity died and they were all mounted, and there was nothing left to do but leave. Conall glanced over at both of them. “Ready, girls?” Addy looked at Nume. She reached out and took her hand, squeezed it. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

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EPILOGUE Luke sat hunched in his chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped at his mouth, watching Conall pace before him. “You’re going to wear a hole in that carpet,” he said through his linked fingers. Conall stopped and turned to him, his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how you can just sit there like that. Why aren’t you going out of your mind, too?” “I’m given to understand that these sorts of things happen every day without incident.” Conall made a disparaging sound and resumed pacing. “Not to me.” Despite the concern that twisted through him, Luke couldn’t help but grin as he watched Conall, tugging at his hair with anxiety 306

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and scowling ferociously. “If someone had told me when we first met that the fearsome pirate who so intimidated me would be fretting himself sick like an anxious father—” “I am a father,” Conall grumbled, and glanced toward the door, which had been shut to them for hours, and beyond which lay their greatest hopes and fears. “Or will be, soon enough. Gods willing.” Luke smiled against his knuckles and continued, “If they’d told me that I would be the one comforting you—” “You can just stop that right now,” Conall growled, and strode over to grip Luke by the shoulders. “It’s unkind to mock someone in a state like this. I think my heart may burst to pieces.” Luke rose out of the chair and pushed Conall into it, then slid into his lap to keep him in place. Conall looped his arms around Luke’s waist and leaned his brow against the side of Luke’s neck. He released a great sigh. “Why aren’t you worried sick, lad?” “You think I’m not?” He hooked his hands around Conall’s neck, held on to him for the comfort of his closeness. “If my heart doesn’t burst to pieces before yours, it will be a miracle. I’m better at hiding it, is all.” “Gods.” Conall scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, that’s a comfort, at least.” A low cry came from the room beyond the door, making them both jump. Luke’s heart pounded. It might have been Nume, or the child, or any number of things. He’d been trying hard all the while not to listen too closely, because Nume’s rising cries as her labor progressed had been heartrending to hear, and it was an agony not to know what was going on or if she was all right. Despite his confident words to Conall, he was painfully aware that women died in childbirth, all too frequently. “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” he asked Conall, to 307

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distract them both. There was another cry, louder, and Luke felt the way he twitched against him. Conall gave a shocked laugh. “I don’t care. I swear I don’t. I only want this to be over, so I can breathe again.” Luke gave a strained smile and leaned his chin on Conall’s shoulder. Conall made a token sound of discomfort, but didn’t try to dislodge him. “I cannot imagine what the palace shall do with two pirates running through our halls.” That, at least, made Conall laugh with true humor. “Gods. It can’t be like me. We’ll all be done for. Do you know what a nightmare I was as a child?” “Not half as much a one as you were as a grown man, I’d wager.” “That, too.” “Well, perhaps it will be like me,” Luke murmured. Conall looked even more appalled by that prospect. “Heavens. No, we can’t have that. I’ve got my hands full just trying to deal with one of you who’s appallingly devoted to his duty. I don’t have the nerves for two.” Luke laughed and started to answer, but a sudden, wailing cry from the bedroom made them both stiffen. He glanced at the door as though it could give him answers. They were the unmistakable sobs of a baby, high and angry. Conall started to rise, even with Luke on his lap, his gaze fixed on the door like there was nothing else in the world. Luke grabbed his arm tight. “No, we can’t.” Angry defiance clouded Conall’s expression. “They’ll bring it out to us.” “I’ve had my fill of waiting,” Conall growled. Luke tightened his fingers on Conall’s arm even farther. “Sit. 308

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Please. They’ll never let both of us in there, and if you leave me out here to wonder alone, I’ll go mad.” Conall made a face, but he slowly relaxed beneath Luke. “What’s going on in there?” he demanded, scowling at the door fiercely. “I don’t like—” “Not being in charge. I know.” Luke leaned against Conall. Conall glanced sideways at him. “That’s not what I was going to say.” “It’s true, though.” Conall grimaced and kissed his brow. “Perhaps.” The creak of the door swinging open made them both jump to their feet. Addy came out, a tiny, whimpering bundle in her arms. Conall stepped toward her hesitantly, and Luke followed a step behind, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. Addy beamed at them. Her face was pale and tired, but it shone with happiness. “Would you like to hold her?” she asked Conall. Conall’s gaze flashed up to hers. “Her?” he whispered, hoarse. “It’s— I have…a daughter?” “You do indeed. She’s got a healthy set of lungs on her, too.” “We heard,” Luke said wryly. Addy laughed and held the child out to Conall. He took her automatically, then stood frozen with her half-outstretched, staring like Addy had handed him a viper. Addy laughed again. “Oh, you’re hopeless. Here—like this.” She helped Conall get her settled in the crook of his arm. Conall stared down at the baby, his expression more open and vulnerable than Luke could ever remember seeing. “She’s tiny.” “She’s big,” Addy corrected, laughing. “And Nume’s not going to thank you for that, I promise.” 309

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Conall looked up at Addy as though it took all the strength he possessed to tear his gaze away from his daughter. “How is she?” Addy smiled. “She’s just fine.” Reassured, Conall’s gaze dropped back down to the child. Luke pressed in close beside him, trying to look, too. Her face was beet red, though she’d stopped crying in Conall’s arms, and she had more hair than Luke would have expected of a newborn. She blinked open brilliantly blue eyes, then scrunched them up again and made a face. “Gods in heaven,” Conall breathed, and dropped down into the chair abruptly. “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” “I guess the palace is safe from a new generation of pirates,” Luke teased, leaning up beside him. “Are you mad?” Conall looked up at him. “No daughter of mine is going to grow up not knowing how to steer her way through a storm. I can teach her on that boat of yours, until she’s big enough to keep her feet under her in a real wave.” “And Addy will teach her to clamber over the roofs like a monkey, I’m sure,” Luke said. “And the best way to evade her governess, of course,” she added. She came over and knelt before Conall so she could rest the backs of her fingers against the little girl’s cheek. “She’ll be spoiled silly, and a hellion, I’m sure.” “Well, look at her parents,” Conall said. “That’s just as it should be.”

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AISLINN K ERRY

Aislinn Kerry wrote her first romance on a whim and hasn’t been able to stop since. She has always been fascinated with the misfits, the misunderstood, and the things that go bump in the night. She blames it on an unnatural obsession with Beauty and the Beast at an impressionable age. To learn more about Aislinn and her writing, please visit her website: http://www.aislinnkerry.com *

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Don’t miss A King’s Ransom by Aislinn Kerry, available at AmberAllure.com! As prince and heir to the Samari throne, Luke puts nothing before his duty. While sailing to wed a foreign princess he’s never met to secure a desirable alliance, his ship is beset by pirates and Luke is taken captive. The pirates and their charismatic captain, Conall, throw Luke’s carefully ordered life—and his emotions—into turmoil. Conall is charming and seductive, and Luke’s iron will softens in the heat of his kisses.

Getting back to Samar ought to be a straightforward matter, but there’s trouble brewing in Luke’s absence and not everyone in his court would be pleased to see him make it home safely. Luke must decide whether to put duty before love, or relinquish his throne, forsake crown and country, for the lawless pirate who’s stolen his heart. Or can he somehow find a way to cling to both?

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