Glitter (Glitter Duology #1)(64)

Even standing there in my long chemise and corset—technically my underclothing—I’m still basically clothed, but the removal of my gown and underskirts allows me to feel. Without the thick cloth I can press myself against him, feel the warmth of his skin, raise my arms to tuck my face against his neck and cling there, feeling safe for the first time in days.

Months.

Weeks and weeks I’ve known Saber, and even from the first moment I saw him, this is what I wanted. The backs of my knees hit the bed, and I break our kiss long enough to sit down and scoot back, making room. My eyes invite him to join me, and for a moment I see a flicker of indecision, and something else—something deeper I don’t want to analyze. For several long seconds, I think he won’t.

Then he lets out a groan that sounds more like disappointment than desire, and he lifts a knee to hoist himself onto the bed, where he poises his body over mine. He doesn’t hesitate to give me his mouth again.

—

THE RAIN ON the windowpanes isn’t real; it’s my favorite effect, and M.A.R.I.E. turns it on automatically now. But genuine or not, the harmony of rainfall and Saber’s measured breathing is tremendously soothing. I don’t know how long it’s been since I left His Majesty’s office, but long enough for our initial savage need to have slowly drained away, until we’re content to lie in each other’s arms, bodies flush, Saber’s hand gently stroking my arm.

“I was certain you hated me,” I finally say, breaking the silence. He says nothing for a long while as my heart pounds, as I wait for him to confirm that this was nothing but a moment of stupidity, pity maybe, toward the girl who just got roughly handled by her affianced.

“I don’t hate you. I hate him.”

“The King?”

Saber snorts. “Him, too. No, I meant Reginald. I hate him so much. And I hate that you work for him, and that you…that you do what you do,” he says, a quick glance at the ceiling telling me he’s remembering M.A.R.I.E.

Probably wise. Wiser than what we just did potentially in front of the cameras.

“Then why do you work for him? Why not walk away?”

“Why don’t you leave the palace? Instead of doing what you’re doing?” he asks, turning it right back around to me in that uncomfortable way he has.

“I can’t,” I answer defensively. “I’m still a minor; my mother won’t let me, and since all I have is a Sonoman-Versailles passport, I can’t go anywhere without her permission until I’m eighteen. And even if I were eighteen, where could I go? Do you think the Princess of England could just up and leave? Besides which, I have no—”

“Shhh,” Saber says with a finger to my lips, cutting me off. “What you’re saying is that you have no choice, oui?”

“Exactly,” I say, still a little bristly.

“Neither do I.”

“But—”

“No choice,” Saber says, cutting me off again.

I lay my head on his shoulder and try to understand his words. To understand how he could be trapped. But I don’t dare ask and risk disturbing the peace we’ve somehow found.

“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you?” Saber asks.

I let out quite an unladylike snicker. “That I was desperate and insane?”

“I guess technically the first time I saw you was in the catacombs. But I meant in the car. In Paris. The first time we met.”

“Oh, that time. Hmmm,” I say, tapping my chin as though thinking quite hard. “You thought…that I was an evil, crazed witch?”

Saber laughs, and when I hear the sound roll around in his chest, nothing seems half as awful as it did a few hours ago. “No,” he says. “You were incredible. I—I couldn’t breathe. No lie,” he adds when I make a sound of disbelief. “You were so beautiful and determined and—I was supposed to cajole you. Speak fancy to you and convince you I was Reginald, so you wouldn’t have to see his face.” He runs his fingers along my shoulder, and I have the urge to curl up and purr like a kitten. “But you made me speechless, and by the time I gathered myself together, you’d already figured out I wasn’t who you wanted to see.”

“It wasn’t an insult,” I say, burrowing closer.

“I know.” He turns his head and kisses my brow. “I’ve wanted to be near you ever since, and I fought it so hard because…” His voice trails off, and for a while I think he won’t finish. “Because I hate what you do.”

“Does it help if I hate it too?” I ask, although a part of me wonders if that’s entirely true. I’ve been nurturing a burgeoning sense of pride at having built such a profitable business from nothing. And though I’d perish before admitting it aloud, the gleam of addiction I saw in Duchess Darzi’s eye the other night sent a thrill of success coursing through my veins.

“Some,” Saber says, then yawns. “But you don’t hate it enough.”





OPENING THIS NEW door with Saber has filled me with fresh resolve. I will meet Reginald’s price. In three weeks’ time, I will leave Sonoman-Versailles forever.

And I’m going to take Saber with me. Take him away from Reginald.

There’s much to do. As I look over my coded report of Glitter orders from Lady Ebele, I realize that my suggestion to Duchess Darzi—that she pawn her unwanted jewels to fund her habit—resulted not only in a surge of new orders, but an increase in demand from my existing clientèle.