I couldn’t believe it had taken me all these years to see this side of him. He tucked himself inside a shell, shutting himself away from others here because the palace had trapped him. Behind the books and the snippy remarks there was a curious, engaging, and sometimes very charming person.
I felt like I’d been lied to. Was someone going to pop around the corner and tell me Josie was really a saint?
Eventually Kile looked down to his watch. “It’s ten after nine.”
“Oh. We should go then.” But I didn’t want to get up. Kile’s messy room was one of the most comfortable places I’d ever been.
“Yeah.” Kile closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Even though that corner was as haphazard as the rest of the room, I could see the care he took with it.
I waited for him by the door, suddenly nervous.
“Here,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s the end of a date, right?”
I placed my hand in his. “Thanks. For showing me your work, and for doing this. I promise to pay you back.”
“I know.”
He opened the door and walked me down the hall. “When do you think we last held hands?” I wondered out loud.
“Probably a game of red rover or something.”
“Probably.”
We were quiet as we headed toward my room. When we reached it, I turned back to Kile and watched as he swallowed.
“Nervous?” I whispered.
“Nah.” He smiled, but he also fidgeted. “So . . . goodnight.”
Kile leaned down, lips meeting mine, holding them there. Then his lips parted and closed and parted again. I drew a breath in the moment between kisses, sensing he would come back again. He did, and thank goodness, because I hadn’t been kissed like this before and I needed more.
The few times I’d kissed boys were rushed, sloppy moments hiding in a coatroom or behind a statue. But this, with so much air around us and no one coming to check on me . . . it was different.
I leaned into Kile, still holding him, and he brought up his free hand and cupped my cheek. He held my lips to his for what felt like forever before pulling back.
And even when he did pull away, his nose stayed right against mine, so close that when he whispered, I could smell what was left of the wine on his breath.
“Do you think that was enough?”
“I . . . um . . . I don’t know.”
“Just to be sure.”
He pressed his mouth to mine again, and I was so surprised to get another kiss like that, it felt like my bones were turning into mush. I wrapped my fingers up into his hair, shocked at myself for having the urge to hold him in that pose all night.
He pulled back again, looking into my eyes, and there was something different. Was he feeling that funny warmth creep into his arms and chest and head, too?
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Any time. I mean”—he shook his head, laughing at himself—“you know what I mean.”
“Goodnight, Kile.”
“Goodnight, Eadlyn.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading toward the stairs that led back to his temporary quarters.
I watched him go and told myself that the only reason I was smiling like that was because the cameras were hidden somewhere, not because of anything Kile Woodwork had done.
CHAPTER 13
“SO, I THINK I MANAGED to distract everyone for a while.” I held on to Ahren’s arm as we walked through the garden.
“I’ll say.” Ahren made a smart little face at me, and I fought the urge to hit him. “How was it?”
At that I really did hit him. “You pig! A lady never tells.”
“Well, is a real lady meant to be photographed kissing her suitor in the dark?”
I shrugged. “Either way, it worked.”
The pictures of Kile and me were gobbled up like food, just as predicted. It felt a little strange that this was what people were hungry for, but it didn’t really matter as long as they were satisfied. The reactions to the kiss ranged though. A handful of the papers thought it was sweet, but the majority of them were displeased that I was so willing to give up a kiss this early in the competition.
One of the gossip magazines even had a back and forth with two of their biggest reporters over whether I was loose for giving such a kiss or if it was sweet because I’d known Kile since birth. I tried to shrug it off. There would be other things to talk about soon enough.
“I dug a few pages in,” I said, turning back to Ahren. “Not a single report of post-caste discrimination.”
“So, what are your plans for today? Going to make the boys cry again?”
I rolled my eyes. “It was only one. And, I don’t know. Maybe I won’t visit them today.”
“Nope,” Ahren blurted, moving us to a new path. “So help me, Eadlyn, if I have to drag you by your hair through this I will, but you’ve actually got to participate in the Selection.”
I let my arm slip away from his. “I can’t help feeling there’s no way it was this hard for Dad.”