Tovian studies my body. “If you’d rather make yourself available to the other men in the village, I’ll refrain from marking you in such a way.”
“Gods, no, Tovian. I’m not here to play the field.” I lick my lips. His gaze cuts to mine, drops briefly to my mouth, then back up. “Paint me. Please.”
He presses one cold, damp hand to the small of my back. Before the gasp leaves my parted lips, he pulls me hard against his chest. There’s so much exposed skin it feels like being naked. He cups my cheek with his free hand and kisses me languidly, thoroughly. I want to fall into his embrace and stay there, where it’s warm and safe and I feel treasured.
But there’s a war on, and maintaining the illusion of safety comes with a high cost. Besides, I don’t think the best way to impress a queen is by making out with her son in public. The Ansi might be free with their physical affections, but I’m sure there are limits to their acceptance, particularly with an outsider.
Sensing my hesitation, Tovian pulls back fractionally. He touches the tip of my nose, undoubtedly leaving a clownish purple mark there. I try to rub it away.
“Here.” He picks up an astringent-smelling rag and wipes it away. “If you need to remove the paint, use the clear stuff in this bottle. Takes it right off. We don’t wear it outside of the village.”
I squelch a bit of paint in my hands and place hand marks on his biceps. “Now we’re even.”
He laughs, clearly delighted that I marked him in return. Then he cleans his hands, and mine.
“Now, you’re ready to meet my mother.”
I yawn. My head buzzes, and that fuzzy feeling was back worse than ever.
“Great. I just hope I can stay awake long enough to make a convincing argument.”
#
While I was being prepared, Brenica set the stage in the center of the main village for maximum impact. It’s funny—no matter where in the world you go, or how the details differ, the expression of status remains the same: put yourself at the center of attention, and ensure other people wait on you hand and foot.
You can always tell who the guards are, too. Whether they’re wearing armor or uniforms, they’re the intimidating-looking ones holding weapons.
I do the same thing when I’m home at River Bend, although technically, my father is still ruling as king until I decide I’m ready to step up and take over leadership.
I should call him.
We haven’t spoken much since our argument after the bridge collapse. All I have to report are my own minor victories in Oceanside, which cause him to demand I return to River Bend. Every time I call Saskaya to check on Lorcan, she curtly informs me there’s no change in his condition and she’ll call me if there is, so I’ve stopped checking in as often. If my father had heard from Rohan, he’d have called me right away. With no meaningful updates to discuss, we’ve both been avoiding contact.
Which hurts. My father and I have always been close, until now.
Brenica plucks a round fruit from a basket placed at her side. I drop to one knee, praying I’m not flashing the entire village in this skimpy skirt, and wait for her to speak.
“Princess Raina, you are the first outsider we have welcomed into the Ansi village in five hundred years.”
That’s interesting. From the way Tovian described it, I thought they had occasional visitors. A misperception on my part.
“Majesty, I am honored by your hospitality—”
“I am not finished speaking.”
I’d risen to my feet, and now I tilt my head to indicate I was listening. I don’t drop back down, though.
“Give me one reason why we should fight with you against the invasion.” Brenica says imperiously.
Briefly, I outline the same reasons I’d given Tovian. “If the invaders capture the island, you won’t be able to hide forever. Your secrecy cannot last. If you fight with us, and we win this war, I vow we will leave you in peace if that is what you wish.”
“You presume to speak for the Auralian princess?”
A lump lodges in my throat.
“I know her well enough to give you my word that Zosia would honor such a promise.”
Brenica eyes me thoughtfully. “You are friends.”
