Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

She laughed softly. “Oh, I thought you would curse me and run from the room. The fact that you stayed and were willing to talk to me-I never hoped for so much.”

Sweet gods, what a desperately lonely life she had led. She had no concept of how much strain the bonds of friendship could bear. Without thinking about it, he reached over and laid his hand on her wrist. “Amalie,” he said. “Nothing you do or say or are could ever turn me against you.”

She twisted her hand so she could take hold of his, but she didn’t look at him. “I don’t think that’s true,” she said. “People turn against their friends all the time. I don’t know the reasons. Maybe I’ll do something at some point to disgust you or repulse you, and then you’ll leave. That could happen.”

He laughed back in his throat. “I think it’s more likely to work the other way. You’ll get tired of me or annoyed with me and send me away.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Or your husband will. He might not like to have me loitering about the palace all the time, scowling every time I see him.”

That made her smile, and she gave him a sideways glance. “Why would you be scowling?”

“Because I’ll be jealous of him, of course! Married to you!” He said it lightly but his stomach twisted. It was the first time he had admitted the thought out loud, though it had dwelt at the back of his mind for weeks.

She shrugged a little and her fingers tightened. “Maybe I won’t find a husband right away.”

That made his heart leap, though he sternly told it to hunker back down. “I think you’re supposed to. I think that’s what everyone wants you to do.”

She straightened her posture and tossed back a lock of hair. She was recovering some of her habitual poise and a little of her playfulness. “Maybe it’s not what I want. Maybe I won’t do what everyone tells me to do.”

“That’s something I’ve noticed,” he said. “Lots of times you don’t.”

“So will you stay then?”

He gave her as much of a bow as he could muster while sitting on a stool and holding her hand in his. “Majesty, I am yours to command.”

She finally turned to face him, frowning a little. “No, I mean it. Will you stay as long as I’m not married?”

For a moment, he simply stared at her, and she stared back. They were still handfast; the warm, shadowy kitchen seemed a place of comfort and ease, a place to share secrets. “Amalie, I will stay as long as you want me to,” he replied slowly. “But you should not let-let-your friendship for me stop you from making an advantageous match. Valri and Senneth would banish me from Ghosenhall altogether if they thought that.”

Her dark eyes were extremely wide. “I wouldn’t say it was because of you. I would just say that I don’t want to get married right now.”

He felt a brief smile come to his lips. “They might not find that a very good reason.”

She whispered, “But I don’t want to get married just now.”

She was still watching him, and now the expression on her face was half-pleading, half-afraid. Afraid he would not be able to tell what she wanted. Ah, but he was a reader, after all, and she had dismantled her safeguards. He could feel the confused tumble of her emotions-hope, longing, affection, nervousness, curiosity, daring, desire-and knew that he should drop her hand and leave the room. She was so young, she was so precious, and she was even more inexperienced than he was; he was the one who should walk away.

He leaned forward and kissed her.

Immediately he was awash in her feelings as well as his own. He felt as if he had been enfolded in gold, as if the air shimmered when he drew in breath. His own pleasure and excitement were added to hers and multiplied; both of them experienced both of their reactions. She liked the kiss, no doubt about that, and so he continued kissing her, lifting his free hand to draw her closer, bring her into a half-embrace made ridiculously awkward by the placement of their stools. The air grew even more golden; he was enveloped in a haze that replicated, in a translucent fashion, the precise color of Amalie’s hair. He was flushed with heat and tingling with delight-or she was-or they both were.

Kissing Murrie had never been like this.

Kissing Murrie had led to-

Shocked, he lifted his head and stared down at her again. The gold mist abruptly evaporated, and so did Amalie’s feelings of warm satisfaction. She was afraid again.

“What?” she said. “What did I do wrong?”

He pushed himself back on his stool, resettled himself, but didn’t release her hand as he absolutely should have, except she looked so woebegone. “Not you. Me ,” he said with emphasis. “I can’t be kissing the princess in the kitchens! And-and thinking all kinds of things! Amalie, I’m sorry.”

Now she pouted. “I wanted you to kiss me.” And then a little sideways smile. “And I liked it.”

He strangled on what should have been a laugh. “Well, yes, so did I, but-by the Bright Mother’s burning eye! It’s practically a treasonable offense.”

“I’m sure my father kissed plenty of girls before he married my mother,” she said.

“You know it’s not the same thing. You could probably kiss any number of serramar, too, and no one would think a thing.”

“Toland Storian,” she said in a provocative tone. “He kissed me.”

Cammon felt himself glowering. “I thought he did. I wished I could have punched him.”

“But I didn’t like it when he kissed me.”

She didn’t add the obvious corollary. Cammon put his free hand to his forehead and tried not to laugh. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I’m not very good at knowing how to do the proper thing. The expected thing. I don’t comprehend-” He waved his hand as if to indicate the whole kitchen, but he really meant to refer to the entire country. “About nobles and peasants, lords and ordinary people. What’s the difference between them? So part of me doesn’t understand why it is that I’m not good enough to kiss a princess.” He glanced over at her, still rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “And part of me does.”

She assumed her loftiest expression and touched his shoulder with the fingers of her right hand. “If your princess commands you-”

He released her hand and stood up, trying to smile. “Nobody is going to think that’s a good enough reason for me to act so badly.”

She stood up, too, looking a little lost, trying to hide it by smoothing down her nightdress and glancing around the kitchen. Her distress was clear to him, though, and he wanted to put his arms around her again. How was it possible that he had to be the one to preach propriety? He was the oblivious and feckless one too blithe to anticipate consequences. Why did he have to be the one to behave?

“I guess this is the reason Valri didn’t think I should spend too much time alone with you,” he said, attempting to speak lightly.

She gave a little shrug. “I think she was more afraid of what you would find out about my magic.” She was completely depressed.

He couldn’t bear it. “Amalie.” When she didn’t look at him, he put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. “Amalie. You’re wrong in what you’re thinking.”

She jerked her head away. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

And, because it was so much easier not to say the words aloud, he let them reach her silently. You’re embarrassed. You’re afraid I think you’re silly. You’re afraid I don’t like you. You wish you knew what I was thinking, because maybe I do like you. You wish you weren’t the princess. You wish that I was somebody else.