Page 41 of To Wake a Kingdom

Someone was passing around a giant glass orb, filled with slips of paper.

“Hey!” Noah jumped up, a folded square in his hand. “I want in.” He deposited it in the bowl, followed by a grinning Em.

I frowned. “What is that?”

Em turned her grin to me. “That’s the bowl of love. You put your name in, and it pairs you up with someone.”

“What do you mean, pairs up?”

Em raised an eyebrow. “I know you were asleep for a while, but surely you know what goes on between two people seeking some amorous attention?”

I glared at her. “That’s not what I meant.”

She laughed and took a swig of her ale. “Then I suppose it means whatever you want it to mean. A bit of fun tonight, or someone to keep you warm all winter.”

“I see.” I turned to Ronan. “And are you putting your name in?”

“Should I?”

“You can do whatever you want.” I feigned as much disinterest as I could, even though I’d never been more intent on hearing the response to a casually uttered question in my entire life.

“In that case, I think I’ll take my chances and keep my name out of the bowl.” His gaze dipped to where I was spilling out of my dress, and a molten thread raced up the center of my body.

Before long, the food was finished, and all but me and Ronan had drifted off in search of the night’s entertainments.

“Will you walk with me?” Ronan stood and picked up my jacket, holding it open so I could slip my arms into the sleeves. As I shrugged it on, he wrapped it over my body, his hands lingering for longer than was perhaps necessary.

Warm and inviting, his large hand captured mine, leading me through the tables. He didn’t drop it as we entered the street, and I kept my gaze on him. Dressed in a pale gray tunic, the cut showed off every sharp cliff of his hard-earned physique. The braids running along the sides of his head marked him as a warrior, as sure as the sword hanging from his side. After nearly stumbling on a crack in the pavement, I tore my eyes away with no small amount of reluctance.

More tables and chairs lined the sidewalks, full of people eating, drinking, and laughing. Fire breathers belched out plumes of flame into the night sky. Acrobats twisted around rings floating in the air, their sinewy bodies bending and folding like they were made of cooling honey. String quartets sawed with their bows while dancing women in long ruffled dresses and black-heeled shoes stomped in rhythm.Couples swayed in a small square, their bodies pressed close, lost in the music and the crisp evening air.

“Will you dance with me?” Surprising myself with the question, I bit my lip and chanced a peek at Ronan, worried I had been imagining the mood of the evening. I’d forgotten about his friend, Lady Elsenmoor. “Never mind,” I added. “That was a stupid thing to ask.”

I was about to pull my hand away and find a rotting log to crawl into until spring, when Ronan tightened his grip and pulled me back. His eyes were alight, that dimple on his cheek blinding me with its radiance.

“Where are you going?” He tugged my hand, drawing me toward the other dancing pairs. “I would love to dance, Princess.” As he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close, I let out a sigh that felt like it had been held too long.

My head fell against his chest, where I could feel the thrum of his heart. It dug into the fortress I was trying to erect, but the walls kept falling and I wasn’t fast enough to repair them. A deep inhale of forests and cinnamon chipped further away at my crumbling façade.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, his chin resting against the side of my head. “I almost had a heart attack when you and Kianna came out to the stables.”

I smiled against the cut of his collarbone. “You’re beautiful too.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, and his hands slid under my unbuttoned coat, finding my back where his roaming fingers burned lines of heat against my bare skin. His touch felt decadent, its warmth melting deep into my stomach before it pulled tight.My arms wrapped around his waist, I explored the dips and valleys of his muscles, the taut ridges interrupted by the scars I knew were there. I looked up, my hands lying flat on his chest. His arms stayed around me, the gentle swirl of his fingers threatening to undo me.

“Who did that to you?” His hands went still, but it was an answer I desperately needed at that moment. A fierce desire to protect him took root, gluing me to the earth.

Who brought this indomitable warrior to his knees?

“You really know how to kill a mood, Thorne.” There was no anger in his words. They were part grim resignation and part patient exasperation. “My father.”

My breath wilted. Echoes of the scars the king had scratched into me, twisted with the ones he’d carved into his son.

“When I was twenty-four, I led my father’s army in battle against our enemies to the east, just beyond The Red Canyon. It was a small but wealthy kingdom that controlled access to the Salt Seas. It should have been a straightforward task, but I made a costly mistake and was captured and taken behind enemy lines.”

As he paused, I touched his cheek, stubble rough against my hand. He covered it with his large palm.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I whispered, feeling like an ass for forcing him to relive this. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

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