Eleven

The carriage creaks and bounces, jostling along the uneven path. Kane sits across from me dressed in the former Lord Ashwood’s attire—a midnight-blue jacket and a pair of black breeches that cling to him in all the right places, complete with polished leather boots and a silver-threaded cape. With his hair cut and combed back and Lord Ashwood’s navy eye patch at the ready, those within the palace won’t suspect he’s anyone else. I finally get how Clark Kent tricked all those people into believing he wasn’t Superman.

Kane adjusts his cloak, fastened with the same diamond-encrusted goblet-shaped buttons as his jacket. “We must talk about what happens once we’re inside the palace.”

I nod, fixing my own silk cloak as it slides down one shoulder. “I’ll make some excuse to slip away, find the room I was in, and search for my purse. If I don’t find it—”

“I am far less concerned with you finding your belongings and more concerned with your… personality getting us found out the moment we step foot inside the palace.”

“Oh.” I deflate. “I didn’t realize my personality was such shit. Although I suppose it would explain a lot.”

“It’s not. I assure you.” A soft smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “You’re unconventional. It’s intriguing.”

I brace myself as another ridiculous blush spreads up my neck and across my cheeks.

“As well as maddening.”

I frown.

“However, a lady of Ashwood’s station would never be so brazen. And your speech—”

“What’s wrong with the way I talk?” I’m instantly defensive, although I already know, and Briggs even called out that I don’t sound like I’m from around here. “Never mind,” I grumble. “Go on.”

“As Lady Ashwood, you don’t speak only for yourself. You’re an extension of your husband and the Kingdom of Cups. Choose your words carefully, and listen more than you speak.”

I fold my hands in my lap. “I’m assuming you can say whatever you want, whenever you want, and however you want.”

“I’m a man.” Kane leans back against the padded wall. He takes up more space than I thought possible, his presence even more commanding in the carriage.

“You definitely are.” The words slip out. “But don’t worry. I’ve binged a lot of period dramas.” I correct my posture and hold up my hand, pinky out, as if I’m sipping tea. “My dear Lord Ashwood, I do understand how to conduct myself as a lady of the court.”

A smirk twitches across his lips. “Start with staying upright, Fawn. I’ll do the rest.”

I settle back against the bench, dropping my princess-like posture for the twenty-first century slump and twirl my thumbs one over the other.

You’re literally twiddling your thumbs, Hannah.

I flatten my palms against my velvet skirts. I haven’t ever gone this long without my phone.

What do people do with all this free time? And what am I supposed to do with my hands?

Kane shifts along the bench, and his long legs brush against mine, sending a pulse of unexpected warmth through me. I steal a glance at him, taking in the broad line of his shoulders and the depth of his dark eyes while he stares out the window. I can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind right now, what secrets lie beneath that stoic facade.

His attention falls to my hands, and it takes me a minute to realize that I’m tapping my fingers against my thighs like I’m keeping time with the clip-clop of horse hooves.

He draws in a breath and releases it before asking, “Do you not know how to hold your hands still?”

“I’m used to having a phone,” I say, tugging at the collar of my cloak. “I’ve had one since fifth grade.”

He rubs his stubbled jaw. “And what is this phone you seem so anxious without?”

“It makes calls, connects people, entertains them, but it’s more than that. My whole life is in my phone. Everyone’s, really. We’re all dependent on them.”

He looks at me for so long, I’m afraid there’s snot hanging from my nose.

“You do understand your life is here?” He gestures to the carriage, to the fields outside the broken window. “It’s happening now.”

“Yeah, of course.” My gaze drifts to the landscape, the rolling hills and distant forests, the vastness of the world I’ve fallen into. This isn’t just some weird parallel universe I can escape from. This is my life now.

The realization is slow, creeping in around the edges of my thoughts. My phone, my world back home, all the things I’ve clung to—they don’t matter here. They can’t save me from whatever comes next.

I fist my skirts in my hands. “I’m just used to doing something with my hands.”

He shifts closer, the warmth of his body radiating between us. “I’m sure I could think of something for you to do with your hands, Little Fawn.”

My chest tightens, and my toes curl inside my soft satin slippers. “Are you sure that’s befitting a lady of the court?”

“It seems you don’t know much about ladies of the court.” His voice is low and teasing, and I decide to play along.

“Will that be part of my expected duty in the palace? Using my hands?”

“If you’d like it to be,” he says, his gaze dipping to my fingers, “I won’t say no.”

“You know, you really are the worst.” I try to sound annoyed but fail to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

“You’re the one who continues to bring up such topics. It is not my fault you are so drawn to me.”

“Drawn to you? Seriously? I’m not drawn to you.” Like I’m proving a point, I close the open cloak, hiding any bit of skin. “And I do not keep bringing anything up!”

He tilts his chin, his mouth moving in a sly half smile. “Are you sure there is not one thing you’ve brought to attention?”

Kane is good at this sexy, roguish game, I’ll give him that. Maybe I could even be the one to change his ways—make him fall for me, make him think with his heart and not with his cock—but I should know by now that there’s no changing a man like him. If I want to play this game, I have to remember the rules: it’s only our bodies, never our hearts. Knowing me, I’ll fuck it up and end up actually falling for this literal battle-scarred warrior.

I make a point to look everywhere within the carriage except at him. The walls are lined with light-gray velvet padding, and small silver sconces are positioned on each side of the curved interior. My fingers start to fidget with my dress again, and I clench and unclench them, unable to find a comfortable position.

“Enough fidgeting or I really will tell you what to do with your idle hands.” His tone is firm, dominant, and makes my heart skip. A shiver races along my spine, and a flush of heat blooms in my cheeks. I bite my lip, trying to hide the rush of unexpected anticipation coursing through me, but the way my body responds is all too clear.

Kane watches me, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “Would you like that, Fawn?”

He covers both my hands with one of his, and my stomach flutters.

I can’t force myself to say no, and I won’t let myself say yes. The air between us thickens with the unspoken words resting on my tongue.

Say it, Hannah. Tell him what you want.

My lips part, but no words come out.

I need him to do it, to take control.

He tilts his chin, his eyes narrowing, assessing. “Oh, I see now, Fawn. I know what you need from me.”

I swallow, my pulse racing. Every fiber of my being screams for me to close the gap between us, but I can’t move.

I clear my throat. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“Couldn’t I?” His thumb strokes the back of my hand, sending tingles thrumming up my arm. “You need me to hold the reins, Little Fawn. You cannot speak your desires,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “You cannot ask to have them filled.”

I’m tense, every muscle in my body coiled tight as Kane lifts my hand from my lap.

“But I am a consummate instructor. The only thing I need from you is to be willing.”

My fingers ache with the desire to feel him, explore, and I’m nearly breathless fantasizing about all the places he might want to touch me too. “Like you, I won’t say no.”

That sinful smile is back. “You’ll be a good girl and listen to my every command?”

I keep my nod small and nonchalant, but who am I kidding? Kane can see right through my armor of indifference cracking at the seams.

“Shall we test your listening skills?” He guides my hand closer to him, toward his lap, toward his cock.

My teeth dig into my lower lip, and I lean closer, my breath quickening. This is one test I desperately want to pass.

But instead of pressing my palm to the thick, hard heat of him, he gently places my hand in the crook of his arm. The unexpected tenderness catches me off guard, and I gulp. We sit like that while we ride, the rhythmic motion of the carriage lulling us into charged silence.

Warmth ripples from him, his scent of pine and woodsmoke curling around me, and I find myself leaning into him, seeking more of that warmth, more of him. But there’s a twinge of disappointment that lingers, a yearning for something more, something I shouldn’t want but do despite the warning bells.

“Kane,” I start, cutting through the quiet, “why do you need to get back into the palace? What exactly are you going to do to Four once you find him?”

He averts his gaze once more, his attention drawn to the broken panes of glass and the rolling hills beyond blanketed in a patchwork of vibrant green meadows and deep-purple coneflowers that sway in the gentle breeze.

“You can’t ignore me,” I say, my voice firm. “We’re trapped in this carriage together, and you’re partly responsible for that.” I move my hand from the crook of his arm and grab his knee to get his attention.

My heart skips as the charcoal depths of his black eyes settle on mine.

“Kane, I can’t help you—we can’t help each other—if you don’t tell me your whole plan. I’ve shown mine. It’s your turn to show yours.”

For a long moment, he says nothing. His gaze slides down and fixes where my palm rests on his knee. Then, with a gentle touch, he lifts my hand, turning it over to trace the faint lines and creases of my palm with his fingertips. I should pull away, but his touch sends a wave of electricity coursing through me that keeps my brain from sending my body the right signals.

“It is best if you don’t know all the details of my plan. I wouldn’t want to bring you down with me.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

His fingers trail up my wrist, ghosting over the delicate pattern of veins beneath my pale skin, igniting a fire deep within me that burns hotter with each passing second. “I’m going to recover what’s mine.”

“And what’s yours?” I breathe.

“We all have our secrets, Fawn.”

True, but why do I feel like I have way fewer than he does?

His touch lingers on me, his fingers tracing slow hypnotic circles against the crease of my elbow, and a shiver of pleasure ripples through my core.

“It’s nice to know we’re both using each other. That way, no one gets hurt.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m using you,” he counters. “I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial partnership.”

“We’re partners now?”

He continues to caress my skin as he leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Actually, Lady Ashwood,” he murmurs, “I do believe we’re married.”

The tension between us is palpable, a fog-inducing pull that I can’t ignore and, right now, don’t want to.

He glides his hand up the bare expanse of my shoulder. His fingers trail along the delicate curve of my collarbone, and my heart beats heavy in my chest, fire burning along the pathway of his touch. Along the column of my throat, he lingers, and another wave of heat flushes my cheeks.

“You can’t distract me,” I manage to say, though the words come out a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “There’s something more you’re not telling me. I’ll find out what you’re hiding.”

“Will you?” His lips curve into a smile, a hint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes as he leans even closer, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “How long do you think we’ll have to pretend to be married before we both recover what’s ours?”

I swallow hard, unable to tear myself away. “Not long.”

“But one night for sure,” he continues, his gaze locked with mine in silent challenge.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s possible.” My cheeks flush crimson under his dark gaze, and I have to remind myself of my mantra.

Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence… Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence.

Do not think you can change him and get him to care about you. It’s a waste of the little time you’ll be here.

His thumb grazes over my bottom lip. My willpower dissolves like sugar in the rain as my lips part, and I draw in a shaky breath, the air heavy with the intoxicating scent of forest and smoke.

My tongue flicks out instinctively, catching the tip of his thumb, and I can’t help but marvel at the way his smile deepens, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Do you like the way I taste?” His voice vibrates throughout the tight interior, and I shiver. “Taste me again, Little Fawn.” He slides his thumb into my mouth. I wrap my tongue around him like he’s made of salted honey. “There’s my good girl,” he says, and I don’t realize my eyes are closed until his lips are on my neck, his mouth having a taste of its own.

“You like it.” His breath sears my neck. “Tell me you like it.”

A breathy moan escapes me, and my hand once again finds his knee, slides up his thigh.

Kane grabs my wrist. “Good girls listen and are patient.” He forces my hand down by my side. “And you’re my good girl, aren’t you, Fawn?”

Yes . The word is there on my tongue as it slides around his thumb. Make me your good girl.

The carriage stops so abruptly, I slam back against the padded wall. Eyes open and wide, I press my palms to my flaming cheeks. All at once, the reasonable and sensible parts of my brain are shaken loose. My good sense tumbles through my limbs, and I close up like a clam.

Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence… Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence , I remind myself. Although I really should have taken the hint a few minutes ago.

Kane ties Lord Ashwood’s eye patch around his head and glances out the window, unaffected, as if our interaction never happened.

We can’t get to the palace and out of this carriage soon enough. My cheeks won’t stop burning, now out of embarrassment instead of desire.

Commotion filters in through the broken glass, a crash of shouts and angry voices.

We’re in front of the palace. Its towering stone walls and spires capped with gleaming golden finials reach for the clouds. The front courtyard is paved with cobblestones worn smooth by years of footsteps and sealed off by wrought gates too tall and spiked to climb. Beyond the fence teems a mob of villagers, some with literal pitchforks in hand.

“How dare you feast while we starve!” shouts someone from the crowd.

I peek out through the curtains and brace myself. The townspeople cry out in agreement, their clothes tattered and dirty. Children with dirt-smudged cheeks cling to their parents, their eyes wide and searching with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

My palms are sweaty, and I have to press my hands into my knees to keep them from shaking. The last time I was here, these people branded me a witch and tried to kill me. But today, their gazes meet mine with a different kind of scrutiny. I’m no longer an outsider threatening them with evil magicks. I bring a different kind of pain—entitlement and wealth. The 1 percent who are clean and well-fed and wanting for nothing while having the means to help but not the willingness.

The jewels and velvets and silks will help me get into the palace, but it’s not where I belong. I don’t belong out here with them either. I’m from another realm entirely, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed out of college, I wanted to use my degree to benefit others, work for a nonprofit, make a real difference in the world. Then real life intervened and burst my bubble.

Kane draws the curtains together, leaving only a slender beam of light that stains the air between us. I shift, suddenly uncomfortable and all too aware of the fact that we’re in this dark and shadowed space alone together.

“Fawn—”

I interrupt him before he can continue, the words tumbling out in a rush. “That was a mistake. What happened before. Between us.”

“You don’t believe that.” His voice is a low hum that threatens to pull me back in.

“Kane, you have no idea what I believe or what I want. Or rather, don’t want,” I bite out, choosing anger instead of desire. “The only thing you can give me is a way into the palace.”

He doesn’t have a chance to retort, our exchange cut short by Briggs’s commanding shout from his seat outside on the elevated perch: “Let us through!”

There’s a surge of voices and a thundering of fists on the outside of the carriage. I wrap my arms around my middle as it buoys back and forth, creaking and swaying under the pressure of the crowd.

“What do they want?” I shout to Kane.

“To survive.”

Before I can ask more questions, the carriage lurches to one side. I grab onto the seat, my fingers digging into the leather. The carriage tips farther, and I close my eyes, feeling myself lose my grip and the ground slip away from beneath the wheels. Panic squeezes my stomach, and the sharp sting of bile claws up my throat.

“Hold on!” Kane wraps his strong arm around me. He pulls me close and braces himself against the shifting weight. The carriage shudders, the crowd growing louder, more frenzied. Fighting against the lurching carriage and the relentless push of the mob, Kane maneuvers us away from the shattered window and back toward the center of the seat.

The carriage finally breaks through the crowd. It slams back down onto four wheels and rolls unsteadily toward the palace. The noise fades, replaced by hooves on cobblestone as we pass through the wrought iron gates.

“The ambassador of Cups and his wife. The esteemed Lord and Lady Ashwood,” Briggs shouts over the diminishing roar of the townspeople.

“Are you ready, Lady Ashwood?” Kane asks, adjusting his eye patch.

A storm of doubt thunders between my ears along with the frenetic beat of my heart.

“Of course,” I say, summoning my polished and confident brand-management persona who won over the senior VP of Posh Pulse while shoving from my mind the fact that when it mattered, I completely caved. This time will be different. This time, my performance will be flawless. After all, I’ve come this far. I’ve survived being stabbed and an attempted carriage jacking. If I have any hope of getting back home, I have to get inside the palace walls, be the perfect Lady Ashwood, and find the Empress tarot card.

As I mentally prepare myself, my gaze betrays me and wanders over Kane—along the bow of his lips, down his chiseled jaw, thick shoulders, and muscular arms. My body remembers his touch and aches to be molded beneath his strong hands. I wet my lips and swallow the last taste of him.

Shit , I groan inwardly . Hannah, there’s no way you’re getting out of this in one piece.