Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Maray’s breath caught. It was there in Jemin’s eyes that he had noticed her pain, the loss of him even though he was right next to her and yet so far out of reach.
“So no trace of Corey?” Pia asked, interrupting the moment.
“Not since we returned to Allinan through that portal room.”
“And what do you suggest we do now?” Pia was tense, her hands clutching each other so hard her knuckles turned white.
Maray could guess what she was thinking. Wil. He would be devastated if they lost Corey.
With the effort of an ox setting a cart in motion, Maray pulled herself together and got to her feet.
“First things first.” She eyed her military strategist, the pack master, her handmaiden, and the boy whose presence made her skin tingle as they all looked up at her with anticipation. “Corey, the attacks, Gerenhoff’s exit at the council meeting and its potential consequences.”
While Pia, Scott, and Neelis nodded, Jemin’s eyes widened.
“Gerenhoff was at the council meeting?” Jemin asked with disbelief. “He was in the portal room with Corey and Feris.”
“Slow down, Boyd,” Scott held up a hand as if to stop a little child. “Feris? And Gerenhoff?”
“You mean Master Feris is alive?” Pia asked with wonder. “Did you see him?”
Jemin shook his head. “His scent was definitely there in the portal room the same as Corey’s and Oliver Gerenhoff’s.”
“What would he want there? Is he on Gan Krai’s side?” Gerwin asked, smoothing his jacket as if he was itching for a reason to go after Oliver Gerenhoff himself. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Maray had seen her father’s face as Gerenhoff had left the meeting, and it hadn’t been a pleasant expression.
But for the time being, she remained quiet. She was done making assumptions, kindling hopes, or relying on things to be a certain way. Gan Krai had spoken it plainly to her face. He was going to find ways to hurt her and Allinan. And Corey had warned her about Gan Krai’s reach into the palace. If Gerenhoff was who she had been talking about, he might already be feeding Gan Krai firsthand information about what had happened at the council meeting.
“He might be,” Jemin said, his words coming with discomfort, “a spy for Gan Krai. And not in the sense of the military spies from the other world, the ones your father was part of—” He quickly glanced at Maray as if her eyes could burn him, “—but the way my father had me spy on this very palace for years. He might be a Trojan horse.”
“What’s a Trojan horse?” Neelis asked.
While Gerwin explained to the shifter about Greek mythology, Maray was reminded how very different the two worlds were: one overflowing with technology, progress, social injustice; and the other brimming with magic and intrigue the way she had hardly ever seen in the world she grew up in. In Allinan, there wasn’t any need for fairytales or mythology. Life here was like a fairytale—a dark, cruel version of a fairytale.
Jemin
His breath almost whistled from his lips when he released a gust of air in relief as he could finally escape the torture of sitting next to Maray, knowing he had no place there. Scott and Neelis walked ahead while Jemin and the ambassador filed out the door after them.
“I will fetch some extra guards to stay with Maray,” Jemin offered and was about to turn right and aim for the stairs when the ambassador’s hand caught him by the shoulder. Jemin stopped in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder and found the ambassador’s dark eyes peering at him while the outlines of Scott and Neelis were already disappearing down the hallway. Jemin swallowed.
“I’d rather you stayed with her,” the ambassador said, making Jemin’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
He wanted to ask why, but all he could get out was a bob of his head and the unwelcome thrill of the anticipation of re-opening the door that had rescued him from her gaze and suffering in her presence. What was wrong with him?
“Thank you, Jemin.”
“It’s an honor to guard the crown princess, Ambassador Johnson.” Jemin inclined his head, and the ambassador smiled.
“Gerwin,” he corrected and squeezed his shoulder. “I thought we already were on a first-name basis.”
Jemin returned his smile which seemed to have more to do with their earlier conversation about the ambassador’s marriage preferences for his daughter rather than the fact that they had been more familiar when Jemin had first saved Laura from Rhia’s grasp.
“Gerwin,” Jemin repeated. It felt oddly natural.
As Gerwin let go and headed off after Scott and Neelis, Jemin remained frozen, unable to blink himself out of it for a minute until the guards at the other end of the hallway bent forward, checking with a glance whether there was something wrong. Jemin lifted a hand and waved at them before he made his way back to Maray’s door with a fluttering heart.
“That was quick,” Maray commented, facing the wall, a book open on her lap, and not looking up as he entered after a knock. “I hope they didn’t disturb you on your break.”
Jemin stepped inside and used the moment while she was oblivious to his presence to study the layers of dark hair that were cascading over her shoulders like a raven waterfall. Pia stood by the closet, hiding a smile, and fetched something from the next shelf before she curtseyed and crossed the room toward the door. “I need to get this to the tailor,” she announced as if nothing was the matter. “Given he still speaks with me after the hazard of the corset-free ball gown.” She chuckled quietly and nudged Jemin with her elbow as she passed by.
“Thanks, Pia.” Maray closed the book and glanced over her shoulder to see Pia leave, but her eyes didn’t make it that far. They caught at the sight of Jemin.
“I thought…” She didn’t finish but gaped for a moment, making Jemin wonder if something was wrong with his face, if he had a streak of dirt on his cheek or if his hair was standing upright. Self-conscious, he ran a hand over his head, flattening whatever mess was up there.
He was considering leaving out the little detail that Gerwin had asked him to return, but then, that would make it look as if it had been his idea, and there was only one thing he wanted less than being exposed to the temptation of her presence: making her believe he was torturing both of them on purpose.
“Not my idea,” he babbled eloquently, raising his hands, palms outward, and shrugged.
Maray nodded and returned to her book, effectively avoiding all eye contact.
“Don’t you want to know who wanted me to take the shift?” he pushed, suddenly anxious to make certain she didn’t believe he was at his own emotions’ mercy so deeply that he had to lie.
He waited, the air around him appearing suddenly chilly.
“You don’t believe me,” he concluded when she didn’t give any indication to talk to him again.
With a sigh, Maray turned to the side and lowered her book to her lap. “You can stand by the door or you can choose anywhere in the room to make yourself comfortable—” she gave him a look of solid blue. “—as long as it’s far away from me.”
Jemin cringed internally at her words. What was wrong? Was she upset with him for not having brought Corey back? Or had this something to do with the fact that he had promised her he would be able to stand beside her and not touch her? He knew it wasn’t true. He painfully remembered that he had taken Heck’s place, kneeling by her bed the night before, and how hollow his chest felt after he had made space for him.
“I apologize if I hurt you,” he said, taking a couple of steps forward until he was by the armchairs, then settled. Maray was looking at her book again, carefully avoiding having to watch him approach. From his new position, he could study her profile even when she had turned back to her initial position facing the wall between the closet and the fireplace.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Maray’s voice indicated the opposite. She was upset. Deeply upset about something. And it was difficult to watch how she was silentl
y fuming, stoic like a statue, just her slightly trembling fingers and her twitching lips giving away her distress.
“Maybe not.” Jemin got back to his feet and switched to the armchair closest to her so she was almost within reach if they both extended their arms. “But something is terribly wrong here. And maybe it’s not my place to ask.” He paused for a moment, hesitating as Maray looked at him again, her eyes troubled now rather than upset. “But I care about you, Maray. Whether I should or not. Whether it’s healthy or not for me to dream of something that can never be—”
Maray’s gaze turned into a riot of despair, reaching right into Jemin’s soul. “You have no idea what it is like,” she whispered, “living in fear of your ancestors’ ghosts, their crimes, their bargains.” Her fair skin appeared ashen, giving the impression she herself was one of those ghosts she so intensely feared.
It broke Jemin’s heart to watch her vulnerable like that, anxious and helpless. He wasn’t a stranger to the feeling of being used and betrayed by one’s ancestors. Before he had learned that his father was innocent, he had thought Sander Boyd was a traitor to the crown Jemin so adoringly defended. And Maray had lost way more. Her grandmother, her mother, her trust—and now Corey.
“I am sorry, Maray.” He held her gaze, unwavering. If the rest of the world failed her, he would remain at her side, no matter the costs.
Something glistened in her eye, a single tear, clear as crystal, and escaped from under her lashes as she blinked. Jemin’s gaze followed it as if progressed down her cheek, threatening to fall onto her dress. With a move so fast he couldn’t even think, he was there, his thumb catching the rogue drop of salt-water. Maray cringed under his touch as she noticed him there too late to prevent contact, her eyes wide, not with fear but the pupil-dilating sensation of adrenaline flooding her veins. Jemin knew the look from hunting. It wasn’t specific to fear or delight, just to that moment of anticipation where the system is readying itself for something it hadn’t been expecting. Her tear on his fingertip burned on his skin like a reminder that the touch hadn’t happened in his imagination but that his finger truly traced the wet line from under her eye to her cheekbone. He sucked in a breath, unnecessarily deeply, as if is air supply had been cut off, and her scent was breathing life back into him. Maray’s gaze followed the sound to his lips, and it was as if an invisible veil tore apart between them. Her body heat, even if her torso was leaning away from him, washed over Jemin, making him feel like the eternal winter in his heart had finally ended, and he dared to reach out with his hand again, re-tracing where he had caught the tear. His eyes followed his fingers, savoring every inch of the precious skin he was touching.
“So here we are,” Maray whispered.
“Here we are,” Jemin agreed. “Not in danger of any kind.”
“For now, I guess not…” Maray whispered.
“No danger other than ourselves…” His pulse quickened. Everything he did, every sliver of loss of control would lead him down that path that would let his shifter-nature take over. That she would be his and his only.
Maray’s head moved infinitesimally, a subconscious gesture of concurrence but enough to push Jemin over the corset Allinan court had bestowed upon both of them. It ached in his chest, and the man inside him was struggling to break loose. For a long second, he studied her face, but there was no more anger, no fear. What remained was the girl who had stolen his heart and locked it away with her in the gilded cage that was keeping her out of reach.
“I will never, ever stop loving you.” It burst out of him, words he hadn’t even thought himself capable of. “No matter the dangers that circle above your yet-to-be-crowned head. No matter the canyons life has pushed between us.” He watched Maray’s skin turn pink under his fingertips as they found the slight curve of her lips. They parted at his touch, letting her hot breath escape, a sensual melody to his shifter-ears. He felt the smooth, delicate surface of her flushed lips, lingering on the lower lip just long enough to feel the torment of his reality. “I cannot do this any longer.”
“Can’t do what?” Maray asked as though from a different world, as if in her reality, everything was simple.
He didn’t find a word that could explain what he was trying to say but pulled down with the slightest pressure until an edge of moisture was exposed atop his finger. Maray let her mouth fall open.
Jemin’s heart was racing in his chest as he wrestled his concerns back to the depths of his mind. Everything was falling apart. The worlds might soon be coming to an end under the Shalleyn’s attacks and Gan Krai’s powers. He might not find another chance to give in to his instincts, to his needs, to his heart, which was so desperately beating her name.
Maray didn’t move as he leaned in, but closed her eyes, diving into her own ocean of emotions, or doubts for that matter.
As he brushed his mouth against hers, the world could have come to an end then and there, and he would have gladly traded it for this moment with her. Her lips were warm, soft, electrifying, every sensation amplified the same way it was with sound and smell and vision.
He wanted to pull away, look into her eyes, ask with one meaningful gaze whether this was only him or if she was feeling the same embers in her chest, but he was tired of fighting, tired of denying himself the screaming need to be close to her, to feel her. His lips sealed over hers, and he tasted her—sweet like apple dumplings and coffee, heavenly like the forbidden fruit, and somewhere at the back of his mind, he began dreading the aftertaste of his lack of self-control.
But Maray didn’t seem to mind. She pushed against his lips with the tip of her tongue as if equally eager to feel what they both had been missing those past weeks. Her heart was audibly galloping under the velvet shirt she was wearing. The sound gave him hope. Hope that there was the same fire raging inside her.
Maray’s hands grabbed Jemin’s hair with sudden eagerness, taking Jemin by surprise. His scalp tingled as her fingers curled into strands of curls and pulled him toward her by the neck. He allowed her to take the lead. This way, he wouldn’t cross the boundaries—the boundaries he was well aware that if he continued to follow the command of his own body, he would have problems keeping.
As he let himself sink onto her, her hands wandered down his shoulders, letting his locks escape through her fingers and reaching into the collar of his shirt. He braced one elbow beside her chest and reached to the front of his shirt to open the overlapping collar with the button sitting right above his collarbone. Everything but her ceased to exist around him.
His lips didn’t stop moving on hers as if he was slowly giving in to an addiction he hadn’t been aware of. They both were. He could tell by the way Maray’s fingers dug into the muscles of his neck the second his collar popped open, the way her breath caught as he rested his palm on the neckline of her shirt, letting his fingers graze back and forth along her collarbone.
“Me neither.” Her words were a murmur between gusts of air as they inhaled each other’s breath.
Jemin lifted his lips just enough to ask what she meant.
“I can’t act as if there is nothing between us,” she whispered and trailed his jaw with her lips, leaving a tingle on his skin that made him wonder if there was anything in life that had ever felt that good. When she reached his ear, she stopped and nibbled his earlobe. “Deny myself the one pleasure I might find in this world… I don’t think I can do it any longer.”
Jemin’s mouth involuntarily spread into a smile, a true smile. An expression that was almost painful to his muscles after such a long absence of joy. The sensation pushed the wildfire of his desire to the background for a moment, and he pulled away, wanting to let Maray see what her words had done to him. Wanting to tell her that he was ready.
The grasp on his skin loosened as their eyes met, and her own lips curved up on the sides in an impish grin. “I love you.”
“That’s really good to know.” A voice disturbed them from the door.
Jemin jerked upright, pulling Ma
ray halfway up with him before she dropped back onto the bed, not fast enough to react to Jemin’s motion.
“Heck!”
Maray
Maray’s neck gave an uncomfortable sting as it snapped back into the cushions.
“Heck!” Jemin’s voice sent a shockwave of horror through Maray’s system.
She rolled to her side, dreading the look of disappointment in Heck’s chocolate eyes, and swallowed the moment she’d just shared with Jemin. What had gotten into her?!
As she scrambled to her feet, she avoided touching Jemin who was already upright, and she slid off the bed as if sliding down a slope of guilt. It was there, already heating her cheeks and making her heart burn with remorse.
However, when she met Heck’s gaze, disappointment was the last thing she found there.
“Heck,” she repeated Jemin’s assessment of her visitor.
“I thought I’d check in,” he explained awkwardly. “But I see you’re already in good hands.”
Maray couldn’t tell if the joking tone was real or if he was simply hiding his displeasure with the scene he’d walked in on behind a so well-practiced grin.
“I apologize, Heck,” Jemin took Maray’s words and spoke them before she had a chance. “I swear I didn’t mean to.”
Heck strode over and launched himself into a blue armchair. “Nobody ever means to.”
“I’m so sorry, Heck.” Maray observed him while he beamed at them as if he had won the lottery. “What’s wrong, Heck?” she asked, unable to shake the feeling there was something bad boiling under the shiny surface. The talk they’d had about postponing the wedding was still fresh on her mind. Her request had obviously hurt Heck—his pride. They both knew they didn’t have romantic feelings for each other. But Heck’s sacrifice had brought them closer. Their friendship had changed, and had he once even suggested an in-name-only marriage, Maray wasn’t sure he would have been able to follow through with it. It would have been smarter to talk about it with Heck before letting her hormones take over, and then, Jemin’s visit had been a surprise—
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