This Woven Kingdom(This Woven Kingdom #1)(78)

“Your name. I want to hear it from your lips.”

She took a breath. Released it slowly.

“My name,” she said, “is Alizeh. I am Alizeh of Saam, the daughter of Siavosh and Kiana. Though you may know me better as the lost queen of Arya.”

He stiffened at that, went silent.

Finally he moved, one hand capturing her face, his thumb grazing her cheek in a fleeting moment, there and gone again. His voice was a whisper when he said, “Do you wish to know my name, too, Your Majesty?”

“Kamran,” she said softly. “I already know who you are.”

She was unprepared when he kissed her, for the darkness had denied her a warning before their lips met, before he claimed her mouth with a need that stole from her an anguished sound, a faint cry that shocked her.

She felt his desperation as he touched her, as he kissed her in every passing second with a need greater than the one before, inspiring in her a response she could not fathom into words. She only breathed him in, drew the fragrance of his skin into her blood, the darkly floral scent striking her mind like an opiate. He drew his hands down her body with an unconcealed longing she returned in equal measure; one she’d not even known herself to possess. She didn’t even think before she reached for him, twining her arms around his neck; she pushed her hands through the silk of his hair and he went briefly solid, then kissed her so deeply she tasted him, heat and sugar, over and over. Every inch of her skin was suddenly so fraught with sensation she could hardly move.

No, she did not want to move.

She dared to touch him, too, to feel the expanse of his chest, the sculpted lines of his body; she felt him change as she discovered him, breathe harder when she touched her lips to the sharp line of his jaw, the column of his neck. He made a sound, a low moan in his throat, igniting a flare of awareness in her chest that flashed across her skin before his back was suddenly against the wall, his arms braced around her waist. Still, she could not seem to get close enough. She despaired when he broke away, feeling the loss of him even as he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, and suddenly his hands were in her hair, pulling pins, reaching for the buttons of her dress—

Oh.

Alizeh tore away, stumbled back on unsteady legs.

Her bones would not cease shaking. They both struggled to catch their breath, but Alizeh hardly knew herself in that moment, hardly recognized the violent pounding of her heart, the unfathomable desire that had risen up inside her. She now wanted things she could not even name, things she knew she could never have.

What on earth had she done?

“Alizeh.”

A frisson of feeling moved through her at that, at the tortured sound of his voice, her name on his lips. Her chest was heaving; her corset too tight. She felt suddenly dizzy, desperate for air.

Heavens, she had lost her mind.

The prince of Ardunia was not to be trifled with. She knew that. She knew it and yet somehow, for a brief window, it had not seemed to matter; she’d taken leave of her senses and now she’d suffer for it, for her lapse in judgment. She’d already suffered for it if the ache in her heart was any indication.

Alizeh wanted nothing more than to throw herself back into his arms, even as she knew it to be a flight of madness.

“Forgive me,” Kamran whispered, his voice raw, nearly unrecognizable. “I didn’t mean— I wasn’t thinking—”

“I’m not upset,” she said, trying to steady herself. “You need not worry on that account. We were both of us out of our heads.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said with feeling. “I did nothing I didn’t want to do. I want nothing more than to do it again.”

Oh, no, she couldn’t breathe.

What she realized then, even as her body trembled, was a single, unassailable fact: what had transpired between her and the prince was much more than a kiss. Even inexperienced as she was, Alizeh possessed awareness enough to understand that something extraordinary had sparked between them.

Something uncommon.

It was critical that she first acknowledge this in order to next acknowledge something else: there was no future for them.

Somehow she knew—somehow she saw, with shocking clarity—that a planted kernel between them had bloomed. Quavering green shoots had sprung forth from the ground beneath her feet; shoots that, if nurtured, might one day flourish into something majestic, a towering tree that not only bore fruit and offered shade, but supplied a sturdy trunk against which she might rest her weary body.

This was impossible.

Not only impossible, it was dangerous. Ruinous. Not merely for themselves—but for the realms they occupied. Their lives were pitted against each other. He had a kingdom to one day rule, and she had her own life to pursue. Any other avenue would lead only to chaos.

His grandfather was trying to kill her.

No, Alizeh understood then, even as it pierced her heart, that if she did not destroy this fragile bloom between them now, it would one day grow great enough to crush them both.

She had to leave.

She took a step back, felt the doorknob dig into her spine.

“Wait,” the prince said. “Please—”

She reached backward, wrapped her hand around the handle, and pushed it open.

A single, faint beam of light penetrated the room. She spotted her carpet bag in a corner, and quickly collected it.

“Alizeh,” he said, moving toward her. She saw the anguish in his eyes, a flash of panic. “Please, don’t just disappear. Not now, not when I’ve only just found you.”