They bowed swiftly and walked out.
She sheathed her dagger and turned back to Castien's hungry, haunted look. Burying her anger, she opened the cell. “I am so sorry. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what happened. Castien, I…”
But as soon as the lock clicked, his expression shuttered. Gone was the fire, the hunger, the raw emotion. His gaze fell to the floor. Did he blame her? Another Queen shutting him in the dark, leaving him in a cell, binding him in chains. He had all the right in the world to hate her.
Or did he not recognize her? The book had said he should be aware, but there should have been something other than blank distance in his eyes. Where had that hunger gone?
She moved in front of him and fell to her knees.
He shrank back. Fear? He had never been afraid of her.
“Castien?” Slowly, she lifted a hand. He tracked her arm’s movement, his body still as a statue. He hadn't been afraid of her claws during the ride through Nadraken, but it seemed like every muscle in his body was coiled, controlled. Gently, she touched his cheek.
His eyelids fluttered.
It felt good to touch him. She knew it was selfish. She shouldn't. He might not want anything to do with her. They were in a cell.
She had her claws on him in a cold, dark, dungeon cell.
Just as she began to pull her hand away, his eyes closed, and his face turned into her palm. Agony was writ on his twisted brows. His shoulders slumped.
His voice croaked, “I missed you.”
“Oh, Castien.” She could breathe again.
“I haven't… I never apologized. I'm sorry.” His eyes opened, wetness hanging on his lashes. “I'm sorry for hurting you.”
She could tell him he had nothing to apologize for, that it hadn't been his fault. He wouldn't believe her.
Instead, she leaned closer. Refreshing citrus floated to her senses. Curling her fingers beneath his chin, she guided him toward her. Chaos swam in those beautiful eyes. Regret, sorrow, pain. So much pain. His lips parted. She shouldn’t. This was selfish. She should bring him up and leave him with Octavius like she did before. A kiss wouldn't heal him.
His eyes fell to her mouth.
One kiss wouldn't break him either.
His lips were warm, his mouth molding to hers with a soft exhalation. All her doubts melted away. The cold, the cell disappeared. Her palm cupped his cheek, and she sighed. He would be fine. He would. She would do anything to ensure it.
His hands didn't move, but his tongue eagerly dove into her mouth, exploring, stroking, tasting her like she was his last meal. She let him lead. His mouth opened wider, his lips pressing insistently, and she gladly kissed him harder for all the things she couldn't say.
I miss you, too.
I love you.
I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.
I should have come sooner.
I'm sorry.
He groaned, the sound rumbling into her lungs. She wanted to swallow the vibrations and hold them inside her forever. They would have forever. She would use everything, everyone she had to make sure of it.
Moving only her free hand, she found a chain and followed it to the shackle. Licking his tongue, she identified the small key by touch. Metal scraped as her fingers searched for the keyhole.
He broke the kiss and snarled, “Stop.”
She froze. Her eyes snapped open. Leaning back quickly, she put distance between them. She was right. She shouldn't have kissed him. He wasn't ready.
But he was staring at the keys. He pressed his back against the stone wall and pulled his arms away.
