Chapter 16

" W here are we going?" I ask Olly as I follow him up a spiral staircase. One of my hands skims the smooth iron handle, the other rests in his hand. Why did I agree to follow him up here? Either the fifth glass of bubbly or my desperate need to escape the banquet, probably.

He tugs me onward, squeezing my hand like a playful nudge, and says, "My favorite part of the palace."

"Is your favorite part of the palace hidden somewhere in the heavens?" The staircase keeps spinning and spinning, going round and round. Or maybe it's my head that's spinning? Either way, I'm struggling to breathe.

"Not quite." He pulls me onward until moonlight floods in through an open archway. We stumble through it with the clumsiness of two people without a care in the world. "Welcome to the rooftop."

The full moon casts a shimmering net out onto the water, and the stars twinkle brightly above us without a single cloud to shield their radiance. A breeze lifts my cape into the air, causing the fabric to pull at my neck. I try to contain it, but the wind does not relent. Olly laughs and then reaches for the clasp resting on my collarbone. He unhooks it and watches as the light fabric floats away, bending and whirling in the wind.

"It's beautiful," I tell him.

The space itself is relatively small and unrefined, only a lookout, but the view is divine. It soothes my frazzled mind with every gentle lap of the waves and whistling breeze. And the way that Olly's looking at me now, like he's savoring my reaction and enjoying my delight, kindles a delicious warmth in my belly.

" You are beautiful," he says.

When I meet his gaze, I find something new in his normally taunting manner, as if he removed that mischievous mask. It's soft and serene, even a touch serious. It makes me blush.

"And you handled yourself so well tonight," he adds. The moonlight dances on his cheeks as his lips turn to a delicate smile. And by the gods, it's alluring. I want to sink into it, into him.

"I barely survived it." My words are nothing more than a whisper.

As if sensing my desire, my need to be closer to him, he steps forward. Close enough for me to reach him but still too far away.

He asks, "Did you enjoy speaking with Liliana?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything of interest?" He inches closer to me once again. Only this time, he carries a hunger with him in the intensity of his stare.

I start to remark at the uselessness of his question, since he was clearly listening, but when he bites his lower lip, I lose my train of thought entirely. "She said that you refused the company of many women."

A bright light zooms across the sky, snagging both of our attention before it vanishes. They say that shooting stars signal great change on the horizon. Omens like that always make me laugh, though. Either some change does occur by sheer happenstance and you become a believer, or it doesn't and you forget about it entirely. Today, however, I choose to be a believer.

"She's right, sort of. Though, it's not the company of women that I denied, only their promises." My stomach turns as I picture Olly sharing the company of other women. "It seemed unfair to toy with a woman's heart, making promises that I could never keep." His gaze shifts back to me and feels hot on my skin. "I could only ever belong to you."

"Do you resent me for that?"

"Sometimes," he quietly admits. "Do you resent me?"

"Sometimes, but I've had much less time to allow that resentment to fester."

We stand in silence, and I wonder what thoughts are causing his brow to crinkle.

The chilled ocean breeze conjures tiny bumps on my skin. I take another step closer to him, nearly closing the gap between us, so that the heat of his body warms mine. Our eyes lock as he reaches a hand to my shoulder and gently caresses my skin. The movement is gentle and soothing. I hear a small voice in my mind urging me to run away, to shore up the walls around my heart, but my feet remain firmly planted, leaning into this moment. He tucks a stray hair behind my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine. All of the suppressed desire and longing rush to the surface.

I want this . I want him .

That thought scares me more than any future arrangement ever could.

He slowly lowers his head to mine, and we stand forehead to forehead, drawing breaths in unison. His hand crawls up the back of my neck until his fingers weave through my hair. It is such a gentle gesture, but it makes me feel safe, and seen, and wanted.

Maybe it is the bubbly, or maybe it is my loneliness begging to be forgotten, but I angle my head to the side, positioning myself for his lips to meet mine. He holds me there, poised for the taking, for several heartbeats.

"We should head back inside," he says abruptly, squelching that thought before it can develop any further. He turns on his heels and darts toward the staircase without another word.

The air rushes out of my lungs in one sudden lurch, leaving me unsteady. I remain silent as I follow him back into the palace, winding down the spiral stairs and questioning everything. Did I do something wrong? Or am I just so undesirable that even my betrothed doesn't want me?

The familiar sting of loneliness welcomes me back into its grasp.