Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(56)

It’s a dangerous question. After the siege, anytime I spoke Astrean, I would be hit. A sharp slap across the face, a fist to my ribs that would leave a bruise, a kick to my stomach that knocked the breath from me. I didn’t speak a word of Kalovaxian back then, but I learned quickly. Speaking Astrean now with my Shadows is one thing, but it feels like a trap to speak it with a Kalovaxian prinz. When I turn to look at S?ren, though, his face is open and guileless.

“Craya,” I say after a second, before frowning. “But no, that’s not right. That refers to a lighter cake, usually lemon or some kind of citrus. Those were more common. This would have been called…” I trail off, struggling. We didn’t have chocolate cakes very often, maybe once or twice that I remember. I close my eyes, trying to recall. “Daraya,” I say finally.

“Daraya,” he echoes, his accent abysmal. “And wine?”

I hold up the bottle. The wine is light and crisp, and though I’ve only had half of what S?ren had, I can already feel it working its way through me, making my mind buzz.

“Vintá,” I say. “This one would be a pala vintá. If it were red, it would be roej vintá.”

“Pala vintá.” He takes the bottle from me and takes another gulp. “Ship?”

“Baut.”

“Wind?”

“Ozamini. Our air goddess was called Ozam, so it came from that,” I explain.

“Hair?” He reaches out to touch mine, twirling a lock around his finger. I watch him, entranced. I inch closer without thinking. These are Thora’s feelings. They cannot belong to me, can they?

“Fólti,” I say after a second.

“Ocean?” I can feel his breath against my cheek as he moves closer. His face takes up my entire view, blotting out the sky, the stars, the moon. All I see is him.

“Sutana.” The word is barely an exhale. “The same as Ozamini, but this time for the water goddess, Suta.”

“Kiss?” His eyes never leave mine.

I swallow. “Aminet.”

“Aminet,” he repeats, savoring each syllable.

I should be prepared for his mouth drifting toward mine. Little experience as I have, I know it’s coming; it’s what I’ve been working toward, after all. But I’m not ready for how much I want him to do it. Not me as Thora, the broken girl, or Theodosia, the vengeful queen. Just Theo, both and neither. Just me. And maybe out here, with no one to see us but the stars, I can be that girl for just a moment.

So when he kisses me, I let myself kiss him back because I want to. I want to feel his mouth on mine and taste his breath. I want to feel his callused hands against my skin. I want to bury myself in his embrace until I forget Blaise and Ampelio and my mother and the tens of thousands of people who need me. Until we are two nameless people with no pasts, only a future.

But I can’t forget, not even for a moment.

“Aminet,” S?ren murmurs again against my lips before rolling over onto his back. “I didn’t bring you out here for that, you know.”

“I know,” I say, trying to get ahold of my wits. “If your goal was seduction, you wouldn’t have led with the cat story.”

He laughs and gives my shoulder a light shove. “I just…I realized I wasn’t going to see you for a few weeks, at least. And I didn’t like thinking about that.” He pauses. “I hate being at court. Everyone there wears so many faces. They’re all full of flattery and lies and manipulations, grabbing at whatever favor they can reach. It’s exhausting. I think you’re the only honest person in that godsforsaken palace. I’m going to miss you.”

Guilt lumps in my throat, impossible to ignore. Despite what he thinks, I know I wear as many faces as most courtiers—more, probably. I’ve manipulated him as much as anyone. I’m doing it right now. But it’s different, I suppose. I’m not grasping for favor or trying to get myself ahead. What I’m doing is necessary, but that knowledge doesn’t make me feel any better.

I roll over onto my side to face him, propping myself up on my elbow. In the flickering lantern light, his features are softer, innocent.

“I’m going to miss you, too, S?ren,” I tell him quietly. That much, at least, isn’t a lie.

He frowns. “Are you?” He reaches out to take my hand, tracing the lines on my palm idly with his pointer finger. Slight a gesture as it is, it still makes me shiver. “How?”

“How what?”

“How can you look at me and not see him?” His mouth twists as he says the words. I don’t have to ask who he means, but the blunt acknowledgment of his father makes me feel like I’ve been dunked in cold water. S?ren seems to feel that way himself, his grip on my hand loosening.

He hates him, I realize. It isn’t as simple as a son rebelling against his father or an egomaniacal father’s resentment of his young, strong heir who will one day take his place. It’s hate. Maybe not enough to match the hate I feel for the Kaiser, but it’s something similar.

The realization twists my gut because it’s one more thing that makes me understand S?ren more—like him more. I can’t afford to like him more.

“Well, now you have to walk the plank,” I tell him, fully pulling my hand from his grasp. “You might be captain, but you can’t go breaking your own rules—”