Page 60 of The Court of Venus

He folded a strand of hair into my hood. A shrug. “I thought you were here to learn.”

“I am,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You may continue.”

“As long as you’re ready.”

“I am.”

His smile turned feral. “Excellent.” He brushed my earring with his fingertip, watching as it swayed by my neck. “I could use you in my employ, Kitty. You’re sharper than all of my councilors.” He murmured this against my skin, just beneath my earlobe. Little leaps of pleasure traveled down my spine. “I knew if I sought you out, you, and you alone, would be able to help me. You listen when others don’t.”

Somehow, I lost myself in his voice, unsure if beneath his words to Kitty Seton, he was really speaking to me.

My mind fluttered against his. There was curiosity, excitement. And to my relief—no disgust. We were trading knowledge, he and I. He knew what made fresh desire course through me—what sounds, what touches—and I knew he was enjoying this as much as I was.

“So all it takes is mere flattery?” I asked softly. “If she had any sense, she would be able to resist such temptation.”

He frowned. “Shall I try harder, then?”

“I believe it is my turn.” I pushed him down onto the sheets. He lifted his hands above his head, blinking up at me in surprise. “You will be Kitty now. I’ve absorbed your instruction. Tell me what I’m doing well, and what I’m doing wrong.”

He nodded, mouth parting slightly. “I will certainly tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

I climbed over him, my knees catching on my gown, my necklace swinging in front of his face, and I swept away my embarrassment, my pride, relinquishing myself entirely to the play we were performing. Yet we both knew I’d never do anything like this with the real Kitty, so why were we pretending?

My teeth scraped his neck. I resisted licking up a trail of sweat. “I thought of you every day.”

“Lower your voice.”

“I thought of you every day,” I repeated. Beneath me, his breath hitched. “Only you could understand the machinations of my court. Only you can see the vipers hiding within men.” Pushing the hair from his forehead, I started to trace the lines of his face. The cut of his cheekbones, the fine length of his nose.

He made a low, satisfied noise. “In what manner did you think of me?”

“Just like this. Neither of us with true power over the other. We would always be wrestling for it. Confiding in one another just enough to gain a little trust, and withholding what we could.” I stroked his chin. “Trading secrets.”

“Look her in the eyes.”

I fixed my gaze to his. My thumb swept across his lips. When I parted them, his eyes were suddenly very wide. All dark pupil.

He raised a hand to my hip and squeezed, pulling me closer. We breathed each other’s hot air. “What secret do you have to trade?”

“I believe Prince Hal was murdered.”

He flipped me over, his knee bracing my thighs apart, then tore his stare from mine. He slid off me. “Good enough. I’m convinced you won’t embarrass me at present. You know, you remind me of the king’s fool. All your balls and schemes in the air.”

“Yes, and if I drop one ball, I always have another.” I fixed the square bodice of my gown so it sat just above my breasts, then centered the pendant he’d tugged on with his teeth, turning my face to hide my flush.

He pulled out coats from his wardrobe in various shades for me to choose from, draped heavy chains and jewels around my neck, hooked a single pearl through my earlobe.

Finally, when he was satisfied, we stood before his mirror as twins. “The king simply cannot behead me,” he muttered, circling me so he could inspect every angle of himself.

Wearing his clothing, wielding his beauty, I felt myself expand in height and power. As if I were born to rule. As if it were my divine, star-given right.

I allowed myself this: a moment to swagger down the halls, swinging my arms as a lord chancellor would. My pink hair, unburdened by a headdress. I didn’t skitter around the edges of the palace; I walked right through. Every guard bowed to me. Every door ushered me in. Roland must be drunk from moving through the world this way.

I skimmed through every fluttering consciousness until I found Kitty’s mind. If I concentrated, I felt a brute, deliriously happy force beside her—some sort of dog. Cecily had a spaniel she carried around everywhere, and I supposed it had been handed over to Kitty for the day. I wrinkled my nose and followed the distinct trail to the queen’s chambers.

When I knocked, the guards didn’t hesitate to push the doors open. Kitty’s gaze snapped up from the book she was writing in, the little spaniel squirming in her lap. She was surrounded by other women—stitching, paging through their Books of Hours, playing cards. They all burned when they looked at me.

“Where is Her Majesty?” I asked.