Expression slides from his face as though a shroud has obscured it. “Thirteen. This is the thirteenth time you’ve come to me with no memories of us.”
The room is spinning again.
“Thirteen.” It comes out on my breath. I push to the edge of the bed, suddenly unwilling to lie there any longer. I need to move. Pace. None of this makes any sense. And yet, knowing my mother as I do, I can see how it might happen.
It sounds exactly like something she would do.
“I’m only twenty,” I breathe. “I only returned from Queen Maren’s court two summers ago, after serving her as a lady-in-waiting.”
“You’re thirty-three.” Thiago’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Vi. Your sister was named princess-heir thirteen summers ago, and you’ve been locked away in your mother’s court ever since. It’s all just an elaborate ruse to… keep your memories locked away.”
I can’t breathe. My lungs simply won’t open.
It’s not just him my mother stole.
Thirteen summers.
Gone.
All those doors slamming in my face…. My mother turning to Andraste at every opportunity, flaunting it. It wasn’t just a ruse. It was all a game, and I’ll bet my soul she enjoyed every moment of it.
I want to scream.
The constant fear I’ve felt, knowing my future depended on who was named heir. Trying so desperately to earn my mother’s approval, when it was an impossible task. Andraste knew. And what was it she’d said? Perhaps I should enjoy my time with the prince.
Oh, Maia. My knees buckle beneath me.
The prince is there in a second, catching me before I hit the floor, but I can’t stand to have his hands on me. Not in this moment.
I push him way, fighting free.
“No! Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
I’m not ready for his compassion.
It will break me.
He stiffens, and I realize I’ve escaped to the other side of the bed, my arms wrapped around my chest as if to hold myself together.
We stare at each other like two nobles facing a duel that neither of us wants.
“There were letters,” I whisper, trying to sort through everything. “Someone was leaving me letters in Valerian, urging me to trust you. Who writes them?"
I’m desperately afraid I already know.
A feminine hand in sloping Asturian cursive.
His green gaze spears straight through me. "You write them, Vi. To remind yourself of the truth. And the demi-fey leave them for you to find."
Imagine writing those letters, knowing I’m going to lose all recollection of him.
“So when you spoke of seducing me, in order to get your wife back….” They were speaking of me.
"Every year she grants me three months with you," Thiago says. "And every year I must... must win your heart." He looks down then, at his curled fist. "And every year you promise me you will not forget me."
And then I do.
I’m not the only one who’s faced years of this. I’m not the only one who’s lost more than mere memories.
I remember the way he looked at me that night by the bonfires, as if waiting for me to recognize him. I’d thought him disappointed in me at the time, but now I know the truth.
That look was the loss of hope.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “It’s never your fault.”
None of this makes sense.
But I know this prince.
He’s stolen dozens of kisses from me in the past weeks. He’s never taken more than he was owed, merely waiting patiently for me to come to him.
"Will you let me hold you?" Thiago whispers, stepping closer.
This man feels like a stranger to me. But I can't deny that the heat that exists in the inch between our bodies draws me. I can’t deny that fluttery feeling deep within my abdomen.
Without thinking, I reach out, hesitating once before pressing my hand against his chest. The fabric of his shirt melts against his skin, and suddenly his heart is beating hard beneath my hand. It calls to me, teasing at the little magic I own. I might not know him, but I know this.
I jerk my hand away, but he catches it, that piercing gaze searching mine as if he can see my very soul.
"Don't be scared.”
"I'm not." I'm confused. How did Adaia steal those memories? Is this real, or is he merely lying to me?
But it feels real as he leans down, his face looming into view. I’ve kissed him so many times, but I can’t stop myself from freezing, not this time.
Because this time, there’s so much more to it than a simple bargain.
"Sweet Goddess," he whispers hoarsely. "Just this once. Please, Vi. Please let me kiss you. It's been so long."
And I surrender, closing my eyes and curling my fists protectively in front of me as I tilt my face to his.
His mouth crashes down over mine.
A gasp escapes me, and I soften into his embrace as his tongue slicks against me. It’s a kiss meant to consume me. A kiss that speaks of loss and yearning, as if he’s spent every day of the past nine months counting down the moments until he could hold me in his arms again.
Each time I’ve pressed my lips to his, gracing him with the mockery of a kiss, he’s been patiently restraining himself.
I’ve seen his fingers curled around the arms of his chair and felt the stiffness within him. Every inch of him was always rock-hard and aching to prolong our embrace, though I’d always thought it the threat of breaking our bargain that held him at bay.
This is the prince set loose of his ties.
This is the stranger who feels so familiar.
He’s a storm of passion and fury finally unleashed, and I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t resist.
“Oh, gods.” I come up for air, and his mouth is on my throat, teeth grazing the delicate skin there.
Firm hands grab my ass, and then he’s grinding me against him. Want and need conspire to undo me.
Thiago picks me up by the back of the thighs, wrapping my legs around his hips. Two steps and then he’s slamming me back on the bed. My fingers curl in his shirt, and I can’t breathe, but it’s for an entirely different reason than before.
He claims my mouth again, and it feels as though my skin’s too small to contain me. I’m burning up, my body igniting. Sweet merciless Maia, but I don’t know if I can handle any more of this.
It’s only then that I smell the smoke.
“Wait!” I gasp, pushing against his chest.
It’s too much.
And that burning sensation…. I think I’m actually setting the bed on fire.
Pain lashes through my chest, my magic gushing up within me. It’s always been a trickle, but this feels like the floodgates have finally opened.
“Vi?” He lifts his head.
The smoke dampens down, and when I press a hand to the bedspread, I feel heat lingering in the quilt.
What was that?
My hands are trembling. And the press of his body is overwhelming, lighting my veins on fire again. Or perhaps that’s my magic. I don’t understand any of this.
“I just need… room to breathe. A chance to think.”
The prince pushes to his feet, his face forcibly expressionless. “As you wish, Your Highness.”