“Yes. It’s relaxing, the chopping and kneading. And it’s satisfying, to put it all together and see it make a meal.” He turned, bracing his hands against the counter behind him. “You don’t like cooking?”
“Not particularly. I prefer it this way. Someone else making me food.” She smiled at him.
He leaned down to kiss her quickly, then returned his attention to the meat.
“Do you think you would have been a chef, if you had been born into a different family?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “Maybe. When I was younger I wanted to be a teacher, but that was only because my tutors came and went from the castle every day. I think I just wanted that kind of freedom. And they told me stories about studying in Vallos or living in Gallego City. It seemed very glamorous to me, to be a teacher. Plus, my father—” He stopped suddenly, his shoulders tensing.
“You can talk about your father, Cas,” Em said quietly.
He reached into the shelf and pulled out two bowls. He didn’t turn to look at her. “It was a nice memory, the thing I was going to say.”
“So? Tell me.”
“I can’t imagine you want to hear nice things about my father.”
“Sure I do,” she said honestly. “I don’t want you to pretend that your father was horrible all the time and you don’t have a single good memory of him. I’m not going to pretend that about my mother. Or my father.”
Cas glanced at her over his shoulder. “You never talk about your father. You always mention him as an afterthought like that.”
“I didn’t know him well. He was uncomfortable around all children, including me and Liv. I think he only had children to make my mother happy.”
He nodded as he put the meat on plates, then ladled soup into the bowls. She took them from him and walked into the dining room, placing the soup on the table. Cas followed with the rest, filling her plate and then his own.
“What do you think you would have done if you had been born to a different family?” Cas asked as they sat down.
“Tell me the memory of your father first.” She took a bite of meat. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you.” He slowly cut into a potato, his eyes on his plate. “My father liked to read. He’d always spend some time with my tutors, recommending books and discussing things with them. I mean, he’d insist that his interpretation of a book was the only correct interpretation, so perhaps it was more of a lecture than a discussion.” He laughed softly. “But my father had a lot of respect for my tutors, which is perhaps part of the reason I wanted to be one.”
“That makes sense.”
“Now tell me yours,” he said, letting out a breath of air like he was relieved to be changing the subject.
“I would have been an outcast if I’d been born into a different family,” she said. “Since I’m useless. I still was, in many ways, but I was afforded a little more respect, since I was a royal.”
“Are there any other useless Ruined still alive?”
“No. There was one, before, but he died.”
“Were you friends with him?”
“No, he was fifty years older than me. I never even met him, I just heard about him from other people. My mother probably kept him away on purpose. She didn’t want me feeling sorry for myself about being useless, and from what I heard, he was very bitter.” She chewed a piece of bread. “I think I might have been a seamstress, in a different life. I’ve always patched up my own clothes, and I’ve even made a few of my own dresses.”
“Really.”
“They weren’t very good. But I’d like to try again sometime.” Her heart dipped, the way it often did when she thought about the future. She knew it was possible that she didn’t have one, that Olivia could burst into the castle tonight and kill everyone. She’d lived with the very real possibility of death for so long that the word sometime seemed hopelessly optimistic.
“I’ll make sure you get some fabric,” Cas said. “We should set up a room where . . .” He let his voice trail off, his expression thoughtful. “We should move into the royal suite. There’s a lot more room there.”
“I wondered why you hadn’t already, honestly.”
“Memories.” He didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need him to.
“I think it’s a great idea,” she said. She reached for his hand. “I would love to move into the royal suite with you.”
He smiled, tightening his fingers around hers. “Good.”
Em slid her arm around Cas’s waist as they walked up the stairs after dinner. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
They walked through Cas’s library and into his bedroom. Her heart picked up its rhythm, and she pressed her hand to it, hoping he couldn’t tell. He looked calmer than she felt.
He put his fingers lightly on her neck, tilting her head up with his thumb, and when he kissed her, she realized he wasn’t calm at all. She could feel his breath hitch, could feel a little uncertainty when he put a soft hand on her waist.
She leaned into him, her hands against his chest. Some of her nerves settled as she melted into him, breathing into the kiss until her legs felt weak.
She pulled back just enough to talk, his breath warm on her face. “You should unbutton this dress for me.”
His fingers were still tangled in her hair, and they closed around the strands as he kissed her. “I would love to.”
He pulled away and she turned around. He gathered her hair and let it loose over her shoulder. She felt him release the first button, at the base of her neck.
“Did you know I wanted to stay?” he asked, freeing more buttons. “The first time I did this?”
“No. You just left without looking at me.” She turned her head, but she couldn’t see him. “Did you want to stay?”
“I did, a little. I would have stayed if you had asked.” He undid a few more buttons and the dress began to slip down her arms. She let it.
“I hope you plan to stay this time,” she said.
He chuckled, air sweeping across her back as he undid the last of the buttons. The dress slipped down farther, and she pulled her arms out of the straps, letting it settle around her waist.
His fingers trailed down her spine, and a moment later, she felt his lips against her skin. He burned fire across her back, his fingers slipping down until they met the dress.
He used both hands to push it down, and the dress crumpled to the floor. He slid one hand around her waist until his palm was flat against her stomach. She leaned against him, taking in a sharp breath as he pressed his lips to her shoulder, then her neck.
She turned, her eyes flicking over his body. He was still fully dressed, which she had known, but was suddenly disappointed about.
She reached for the buttons of his shirt and unfastened them. He grabbed her around the waist before she could push it off, picking her clear off the ground. She laughed, wrapping her legs around him as he took a few steps and dropped her on the bed.
He shrugged out of his shirt as he climbed onto the bed, only to reveal another thin white shirt underneath.
“You have on so many more clothes than me,” she complained, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. He ducked his head to let her pull it off.
“Better?” he asked with a grin, bracing his hands on the bed as he gazed down at her.
“Not really,” she said, tugging on his belt loop.
He was still smiling as he leaned down to kiss her. She ran her fingers through his hair, the lightness of the moment fading as she wrapped her legs around him. Her breath was stuck in her chest, her hands grabbing at him to pull him closer.
He freed himself from her grasp long enough to sit back and reach for his belt. His gaze flicked over her as he did it. She’d never seen that particular look from him before—his lips curving up, a hint of mischief in his eyes—and she wanted to see it every day for the rest of her life.
She sat up, throwing an arm around his neck and kissing him. A few minutes ago she might have laughed about how she hadn’t even let him get his pants off, but her heart was pounding too wildly for laughter.