Roar (Stormheart #1)(10)
“And that would be a problem because?”
“I’m a thrill seeker. It’s why I have these.” He took her hand and lifted it over his shoulder, until together their hands surrounded the snow Stormheart at the top of his spine. The movement put their bodies even closer, and an icy draft stole over them. She should have jerked away. But instead she arched into him, seeking his warmth. His gaze appeared black again. “If I walk you to your room, if I know exactly where to find you in the middle of the night when the palace is quiet and I can’t sleep … I might be tempted to lure you from your bed for a little adventure. And then we’d both be risking our parents’ anger.”
If he was trying to deter her, he was using the wrong methods. She spent every moment of every day yearning for adventure, and she would gladly take it from his hands.
“What makes you think I’d be so easy to lure from my bed?” she teased.
For the barest moment his body pressed forward against hers—muscles pulled taut, hard as stone. She melted into him, pushing back until their bodies aligned from chest to hip. Then he ripped himself away, leaving her arm hanging in the air and several steps between them.
“I like a challenge, Aurora. Do not offer yourself up as one unless you are prepared for the consequences.”
He nodded his head toward the archway, his muscles tight with tension, and said, “Good night, Princess. Until tomorrow.”
Rora’s body followed his suggestion, slipping through the archway into a wider hallway and out of sight, but her mind was still stuck on the way it felt to be pressed against him. Rora had read of perfect kisses, prompted by perfect words and perfect settings, and she had a feeling she’d just missed a chance at having the real-life version. She moved in a daze, one foot in front of the other, but every step got a little harder, as if a rope around her middle tried to pull her back through that archway to claim that perfect moment she let pass by.
She opened the door to her bedroom, heard the squeak it made, and started to step inside, but her mind was buzzing now. When would they next have a moment this private? The days to come were a series of celebrations and dinners and meetings. There would be people everywhere, always watching them. For all she knew, they wouldn’t have another chance until they were at the altar, and then she would be having her first kiss in front of an audience.
No. She didn’t want to wait. She’d spent years making the cautious choices, swallowing down her most reckless impulses, to protect her secret and the crown. Just this once, Rora wanted something that had nothing to do with storms or being royal. She wanted that kiss.
She tugged the door closed, decision made, and turned back toward the archway. As she was about to step through, she heard Casimir say, “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”
Rora halted. She’d been so caught up in Cassius that she’d forgotten about his brother.
Cassius answered, his voice barely above a growl. “Let me worry about that. It’s working, isn’t it? She’s little better than clay in my hands.”
Rora’s ears started ringing the way they did when a loud noise sounded too close.
“Her mother is powerful. Rumor has it that the girl might be more so. I wouldn’t get too confident.”
“Confidence is exactly what she lacks. I don’t care how much power she has … she’s tentative and unsure. She’s soft. I’ll have no problem bending her to my will. So you can run along and report to Father that everything is moving according to the plan.”
“Where are you going?” Casimir asked, and Cassius’s heavy footfalls only sped up.
“For a walk. Would you like to chaperone me for that as well, big brother?”
There was no reply, but after a few moments, Rora heard Casimir turn and leave too, and when his steps faded into silence she slid down the wall until her legs collapsed beneath her. The corset cut into her hips and thighs in this position, and the weight of the headdress pulled her head forward.
There was a hole in her chest, an awful, gaping hole that screamed like she wanted to. Like a cyclone, it seemed to suck up everything in its path until her knees were curled into her chest and her body hunched, and she just kept collapsing in and in and in. Suddenly unable to breathe, she clawed at the beaded fastenings that connected her headdress and necklace. One of her fingernails bent and splintered as she scrabbled for the hooks; when she could not find them, she took hold of the beaded cord and pulled until it broke, beads scattering across the stone floor around her.
The headdress tipped sideways, tugging painfully on her hair. Again and again, she pulled at the ties until her palms felt raw and beads littered the floor around her. The headdress began to sag, and she was nearly done, nearly free when someone stepped through the archway, and she froze.
Novaya.
Thank the skies. The dark-haired servant held an urn full of steaming water in her hands, and she stared in horror as if she had stumbled upon a monster rather than a crying girl. Nova had been Rora’s closest friend before she cut herself off from everyone at her mother’s command. Girls with secrets the size of Rora’s could not have friends. Nova took a step forward, paused, then knelt down, her large brown eyes carefully blank.
“Should I call for your guards? The queen?” Nova asked.
“No!” Softer, Aurora said, “No. Please don’t tell anyone.”