I smiled to myself. I’d have to tell Kaden I was seriously mastering the names of several Swendish desserts.
I ate two, feeling a little sick once I was done, and then I watched as Henri passed the plate around to the cooks, who all praised his skills. In the deepest core of myself, I hated that he didn’t understand the words they were using.
Delectable. Flawless. Perfection.
I got the sense that if he had understood, he’d have said they were being too generous. It was hard to be sure though. That was just my assumption about who he was. I really didn’t know.
And, I reminded myself, you don’t want to.
There were times when it was getting harder and harder to remember that.
When Henri finished his rounds and the plate came back with hardly a crumb left, I gave him a shy smile.
“I should sleep.”
“You sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good, good.”
“Um. Tonight? The Report?” I asked, trying to keep things simple.
He nodded. “Report, yes.”
I placed my hand on his chest. “You were so sweet.”
“Sweet? Umm, the sugar?”
I laughed. “Yes. Like sugar.”
He brought his hand up to cover mine as it was still pressed against his heart. His smile dwindled as he looked at me and swallowed. He shrugged as he held me there, seeming only to want to make the moment last. He held my hand for the longest time, and I could see he was sorting through words in his head, trying so, so hard to find one that he knew I might understand. . . .
But there was nothing.
I wanted Henri to know that I saw what he felt. I could tell in every smile and every gesture that he really cared about me. And, despite my best efforts, I cared about him, too. I worried about how much I would regret it, but there was only one way to express that feeling.
I closed the distance between us and placed a hand on his cheek. He stared into my eyes as if he’d discovered something truly valuable, something rare that he might never see again. I nodded slowly, and he lowered his lips to mine.
Henri was scared. I could feel it. He was afraid to touch me, afraid to hold me, afraid to move. I didn’t know if it was because I was a princess or because he’d never done this before, but that kiss was so vulnerable.
That made me love it even more.
I pressed my lips into his, trying to tell him without words that this was okay, that I wanted him to hold me. And finally, after a moment of hesitation, he responded. Henri held me like I was delicate, like if his grip was too tight, I’d crumble. And his kisses were the same way, only now, instead of being driven by fear, they were motivated by what felt like reverence. It was an affection almost too beautiful to endure.
I pulled away, slightly dizzy from the kiss, noting that his eyes looked pained, but he wore the tiniest smile.
“I should go,” I said again.
He nodded.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I moved slowly until I was out of his sight, then I ran. My head was swimming with thoughts that I didn’t understand. Why did it bother me so much when Gavril picked at Henri? Why did I have to keep Fox when he should have left? Why did Kile—for goodness’ sake, Kile!—keep popping into my mind?
And why was it so terrifying even to ask those questions?
When I got to my room, I flung myself into bed, feeling disoriented. As angry as I was at Gavril for bringing it up, it did bother me that I couldn’t speak to Henri, that I couldn’t communicate anything intimate to him because of how uncomfortable it would be to go through Erik. As unnerved as the thought made me, if I was going to tell anyone something personal, it would probably be Henri. I felt safe around him, and I knew he was smart, and I admired his passion. Henri was good.
But I didn’t speak Finnish. And that was bad.
I rolled over onto my back in frustration, yelping when something dug into my spine. Reaching around, I felt that it was a knot. I was still wearing Henri’s shirt.
I untied it and, despite how absurd it was, pulled it up to my nose. Of course. Of course he smelled like cinnamon and honey and vanilla. Of course he smelled like dessert.
Stupid Swendish baker with his stupid spices.
This was making me asinine!
This was why love was a terrible idea: it made you weak.
And there was no one in the world as powerful as me.
CHAPTER 28
AT BREAKFAST I WAS STRUCK by a number of things. First was Henri trying to catch Erik up on everything that had happened the night before. Erik’s eyes kept darting over to mine and then back to Henri, and he looked like he was trying to calm him down. I thought for sure Henri would be elated today as the second person in the Selection to get a kiss. Instead, he seemed frantic.