Page 96 of The Faceless Queen

I blinked, confused.

“Kienan,” he said. “He’s one of the best men I know.”

Olivay’s cousin.

I smiled. “He is. I’m glad you see that. And I’m glad you grew up with them by your side. You’re fortunate to have had them as friends, and to have them still.”

“You must miss your friends,” he said. “The ones staying back home.”

I did. I wondered if they missed me, too. But most likely, they knew what I was now. Between Brennan seeing the truth that night and Cecelia—there was no way they didn’t. And they were helping in the search to find me. Offering details, asking questions. Helping to box me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. It was just as well. My friendships could never last anyway, not without me hurting them in the end. And that was true of every relationship I’d ever had or ever would.

“I am sorry you must be here without them.” Brennan reached forward to catch a single tear that fell from the corner of my eye.

I hadn’t even known it was there.

My heart thundered. “I know my duty.”

“We both know that just because it’s our duty, and we’re willing to fulfill it, that doesn’t make it easy.”

“No.”

“Well, Kienan is your friend, of course,” he said, “and you can count on Rowan to be yours, too.”

I was touched, even though I knew it would never happen. Still I said, “That is good to hear, and far more than I was expecting.”

“You can have more if you wish. You can have me …” Carefully, gently, he took my hand in his. “I’d like to be your friend, too.”

I blinked. “You want to be my friend?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice low and full of unspoken things between us. We were barely touching, only holding hands. And somehow, the way he was holding mine, the way his thumb was rubbing against my skin, was the least friendly handhold I could have ever imagined. Like he was rubbing something else, much lower. Warmth was pooling beneath my belly. His eyes were hooded.

I could feel a stream starting. A powerful one. I had to do something. Had to break it.

“You want to be my friend?” I asked again, my voice incredulous and exaggerated. I pulled my hand from his, feigning distress, and pretended to escape back beneath the branches enclosing us. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I must inform the King and Queen of Spartva that we were fooled.”

Brennan pulled me back at once, his arms around my waist as he laughed. “Don’t you dare! There’ll be war between our kingdoms if we break our contract,” he laughed even harder. “You must stay!”

My eyes widened to an absurd degree as I pretended again to try to escape. “This is a travesty of political negotiations. I must go,” I said, trying without effort to push past him. “Even if it means war. I mean, here I thought I was getting married—but now you confess to me that it is friendship⁠—”

“You are getting married,” he said, his voice darkening as he stepped into my space.

I leaned back, flush against the tree as my stomach tightened.

“Olivay, I do want to marry you. Very much.” His jaw tensed, his face only inches from mine.

“You do?” I rasped.

“I do. I want you. I want you as both,” he said heatedly, one hand braced against the tree, trapping me against him. Though one arm remained at his side, his fingers flexing, like he wanted me to know I could leave, that I was free. But it was taking everything inside of him to not fully block my way. To not push himself against me.

My heart began to flutter, my skin warming. He was already so close. So, so close, I could smell the mint on his breath, the sweet hint of spices from our meal. And more than that … I could taste his desire for me growing, his want and need. The Azete stirred again, uncoiling, rising, wanting.

“Both?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Both.” His eyes blazed, gazing into mine, before dropping to my lips, then rising back up. “I want you as my friend. And I want you as my lover.”

“Don’t you mean your wife?”