The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(50)

I touched his face, my gloves ink against the parchment of his skin. “That would never stop him from loving you. You’re his son.”

He tilted his face so the curve of his cheek fit in the cup of my palm. His hair tangled around the tips of my fingers and his breath warmed a sliver of skin showing between my glove and sleeve. “You are a mystery, Wilhelmina. You won’t accept anything that even resembles assistance or comfort, but you offer both so freely.”

The mask hid my tired smile.

Cautiously, like I might run, he leaned forward and kissed me. Silk clung between our lips for a heartbeat, and he pulled back to search my eyes. Only the mask prevented more, and his expression was a question of hope and yearning.

My heart thundered as I shifted toward him, chin tilted upward.

His fingers slid beneath the mask, cool against my throat. Slowly, the silk slipped up and off my mouth and nose and eyes, then dropped to the bed as Tobiah moved close. There was a long, hesitating moment with fire surging through me. All the places we touched were bright and sharp and sensitive. More than anything, I wanted this part to linger—this aching and wanting, with his fingertips glancing off my jaw, when anything was possible. We might still make the right choice.

But what was one more mistake?

A soft groan escaped as I pushed toward him, and he pulled me in, and then I sat astride his lap, kissing him. Our mouths, touching. Our breaths, gasping. Our hands, grasping. The silk of his shirt slid across his skin where I caressed. His shoulders and arms were strong and toned, and the muscles flexed when he pulled the tie off the end of my braid and combed his fingers through my hair. His palm pressed flat against my spine and lit fires at the small of my back. His free hand rested on my hip, holding me in place.

He whispered my name between kisses, moving from my lips to my cheeks to my jaw to my throat. He made me feel alive.

This felt right. It felt like being back in the breezeway with the night around us, and our bodies pressed close together. When I’d explored his face with my fingers, not knowing his true identity. I’d never wanted someone like that. Loved someone like that.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, pieces of me at a time. My arms from around his shoulders. My chest from his chest. My legs from his lap.

“Wilhelmina.” His eyes were still closed. Time stretched like distance between us, and finally he looked at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s my fault, too.” My eyes cut to the balcony where I should have gone as soon as he’d declined to go out tonight. “And I’m sorry.”

He pushed up from his bed and took my mask. “I wish we didn’t have to say that.” He ran the mask between his fingers for a moment, expression unreadable when he looked at it. Then he handed it to me and nodded toward the frame. “Thank you for the letter.”

A strange sort of tension formed between us, palpable and ugly. Once, we’d known each other as enemies, and now I could still feel the shape of him in my arms. Now we were our own enemies. “I’d better go.”

On the balcony, wind picked at my loose hair, but I pulled on my mask and turned my eyes to the diamond-dark sky, listening for the cadence of patrol footfalls and voices.

Through the chilly night, I ran as far and fast from Tobiah as I could.





SEVENTEEN


THE FOLLOWING DAY, an invitation card arrived:

Princess Wilhelmina,

Please join me in the ladies’ solar at ten. I have been throughout the palace collecting donations for the poor, but I need assistance sorting. Bring your friends. All hands are helpful hands.

Very best,

Meredith Corcoran

The reverse had a gold unicorn embossed on the heavy paper.

I shouldn’t have been surprised it was Meredith who stepped forward to help. She’d also been the one to initiate sewing time in the ladies’ solar, creating works of art to send to soldiers.

Groggily, I found blankets and clothes from the suite to add to the boxes, and then fetched the Ospreys.

When we arrived in the solar, the duchess was surrounded by baskets and crates overflowing with donations.

“Oh, thank saints!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t the usual reaction to my arrival, but I hazarded a smile. “We brought a few items.” Which was silly, perhaps. All these things had been given to us by King Terrell or Tobiah. None of it was ours to give.

But if we didn’t want it or need it and there was a better use . . .

“How kind of you.” Meredith cleared a place on the floor for our boxes. She flitted about the room, placing large, empty crates along one wall. “We’ll fill these for shelters in the Flags. Try to put an even number of every type of item in each crate. There are lists for which shelters are requesting specific items; some we might be able to accommodate, but most are requesting everything.”

“Sounds simple.” I waved for Theresa and the boys to begin. They rushed through the room, each of them taking charge of a group of crates.

“I’m so glad you came,” Meredith repeated, watching the Ospreys work. “I invited a dozen ladies. I don’t know why they aren’t here. They all said they wanted to help.”

“Did they know I’d be here?”

She hesitated, almost like she wanted to lie, but she was incapable of dishonesty. Her shoulders dropped. “I mentioned I’d sent you an invitation.”