He jumped on the edge of a fountain, racing around it only to leap off the other side, the girl on his shoulders shrieking with delight even as Coralyn shouted, “Show caution with your sister, Keris!”
Ignoring her, he circled the garden, staying well away from the corpses as he led them on a merry chase, displaying the agility and strength that, logically, Zarrah knew he possessed. And yet it still surprised her. For a moment, it was as though the prince had exited the scene and the Maridrinian had taken his place, causing her chest to tighten and an unwanted longing to fill her core. You can’t want one and hate the other, she snarled at herself. That’s madness.
Yet the admonition did nothing to temper the flare of anticipation filling her as he wove in her direction, distraction rendering him oblivious to her presence. He was almost upon her, looking over his shoulder and shouting at his younger siblings that they’d never catch him, when the children caught sight of her.
“Valcottan!” several of the elder ones screamed, and Keris slid to a stop, nearly colliding with her. He caught his balance, his eyes widening as he took in her ensemble. “Valc… Lady Zarrah. I…” He trailed off, seemingly lost for words.
His reaction was a dangerous one, and yet it made her heart skip with something other than fear. Especially as his gaze ran down her body, her nipples tightening as he lingered on her breasts before returning to her face. If any other man had looked at her in such a way, she’d have blackened both his eyes for his troubles, but violence was the last thing on her mind. Forcing her tone to a coolness that belied the flood of heat between her thighs, she said, “Your Highness.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I see the harem has been playing dress-up.”
Zarrah should’ve been offended. Should’ve snapped back that she wasn’t a doll to be played with. Instead, she said, “They seem to think your preference is that I dress in Maridrinian styles.”
“I didn’t realize that it mattered what I thought of your attire.”
It didn’t. It shouldn’t. Her tongue ran across her lips, his eyes moving to her mouth as she did. “Are you suggesting that you’d prefer me dressed in something different?”
Why had she asked that? What he thought of her clothing didn’t matter, and she certainly had no intention of scampering off for a costume change. Yet she found herself holding her breath as Keris looked her over once more.
“Dressed is rarely my preference, my lady, but”—he inclined his head—“I appreciate you taking my desires into consideration.”
Zarrah’s skin prickled with goose bumps as tension mounted between them, entirely inappropriate, given they weren’t alone, the children, including the girl sitting on Keris’s shoulders, watching with interest.
“Good,” Coralyn said. “You two have found each other.”
Zarrah jumped at the sound of Coralyn’s voice, turning to find the old woman approaching down the path.
“Keris, rather than running about like a fool with your siblings, perhaps you might direct your excess of energy into exercising your prisoner.”
Keris lifted one eyebrow, showing no sign of discomfort despite the fact his aunt might well have heard him flirting with said prisoner. “She’s not a horse. Surely she can exercise herself.”
“And get into all manner of trouble while she does it? You will walk with her and ensure she keeps to the paths. Take your little sister with you—she weeps when you put her down.” Coralyn snapped her fingers at Zarrah’s guards, who stood a respectful distance away. “Remain within arm’s reach.”
With an aggrieved sigh, Keris started down the path, adjusting his younger sister so that she sat more squarely on his shoulders. Her legs, Zarrah saw, were underdeveloped enough that she doubted the girl capable of walking far unassisted, much less racing around the gardens with the other children.
“What is your name?” she asked the child, who was a pretty little thing, her hair so blond as to be nearly white, her eyes a soft brown.
“Sara.” The tiny princess regarded her with interest. “Is it true that you are a warrior?”
“It is, yes.”
“I’m not allowed to learn to fight,” the girl said. “Only the boys are. It’s not fair.”
It wasn’t fair the way Maridrinian women were limited, but Zarrah said, “Not all battles are won with fists and swords. Some are won with words and a clever head.”
A faint smile rose on Keris’s lips, but he said nothing.
“That sounds dull.” The girl drummed her heels against her brother’s chest as though he were a horse. “Walk faster, Keris.”
“Then I’ll be too winded to give our guest a proper tour of our home. What will Auntie Coralyn say?”
“Horses don’t talk,” the girl declared. “I will give the tour.”
With the guards on their heels, they walked through the gardens and buildings, Sara keeping up a steady stream of explanation about the purpose of every building and every room, pointing out guards on the walls and even going so far as to tell Zarrah that Silas’s rooms were near the top of the tower. It was a positive wealth of detail that Keris could never have provided without raising serious questions but which the guards seemed to ignore as the prattling of a child.
And it all served to confirm what Keris had already told her: finding a way to the king would be no easy task.
Maybe an impossible one.
Only when Sara finally ran out of things to tell her did Keris ask, “Do you feel sufficiently exerted, Lady Zarrah? The midday sun does not agree with me.”
She risked a sideways glance at him, seeing that his skin, which was far more used to the moon than the sun, was beginning to pinken. A teasing remark rose to her lips, but Zarrah bit down on it. One did not banter with one’s captor. “Yes.”
“Good.” They circled around to where the wives were gathered. Keris lifted his sister off his shoulders and set her next to a wife, the woman a handful of years older than Zarrah and extremely beautiful. “We’ll go riding soon, Sara,” he said. “I promise.”
“I hope your horse is faster than you are.” The girl stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Good day to you, brother. You may leave now.”
The women all laughed at the dismissal, the one who must be her mother saying, “You are so kind to her, Keris.”
He made a face. “Kindness has nothing to do with it. She’s been raised by the harem, which means she tells me what she wants, and I have no choice but to obey. And on that note, I will now flee before any more demands are made on my time.”
Twisting on his heel, he walked away.
Zarrah watched him go, ever curious as to what was real and what was an act when it came to him. Whether he knew himself.
Sensing eyes were upon her, she turned her head to find Sara’s mother watching her, gaze curious. Which was a welcome change from the hate most of the women directed at her. “Your daughter is quite clever. You must be very proud.”