A Dangerous Game
1216 Words
Aria did not stop walking until she reached the far end of the eastern wing.
Only then did she turn a corner, press her back against the cold stone wall, and force herself to breathe.
What had she just done?
Her pulse was still racing beneath her skin.
Not from fear.
That would have been easier to accept.
It was the memory of Kael standing motionless while red jam slid over his face. The way his eyes had darkened when she touched him. The way the room had narrowed until there had been nothing but his skin beneath her finger and the heat that passed between them.
She had meant to humiliate him.
So why had it felt like she had touched something dangerous and alive?
Why had she wanted more?
Aria shut her eyes.
No.
She hated him.
She had seen Lucian die in his hand.
She had seen her mother broken on the stairs. Her father fall. Her brothers lying still.
Kael was ruin wrapped in beauty.
Nothing more.
“Talking to walls now?”
Her eyes snapped open.
Ronan stood at the corridor entrance, arms folded, grin shameless.
He pushed off the wall and strolled closer.
“Well?” he asked. “Should I congratulate you or prepare funeral flowers for him?”
She frowned. “For what?”
“For surviving after pouring jam on the king’s head.”
Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips.
“He deserved worse.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Ronan nodded. “Personally, I hoped for boiling soup.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
He pointed dramatically. “There. Another one. I’m collecting those.”
She rolled her eyes and resumed walking.
Ronan fell into step beside her.
“You know, most people try not to provoke Kael.”
“Most people are dull.”
He grinned wider. “I like you.”
She glanced sideways. “Should your king hear that?”
“He hears everything.” Ronan lowered his voice. “Unfortunately.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
Could Kael hear them now?
Ronan laughed. “Relax. He’s probably still emotionally wounded by breakfast.”
They entered a bright gallery lined with tall windows overlooking the mountain cliffs. Sunlight spilled across polished stone. Portraits of kings and queens watched from the walls.
At the center of the room, Mira stood on a stool attempting to stab a loaf of bread with a decorative sword.
Aria blinked.
Mira looked up brightly.
“You’re here! Ronan said you committed treason.”
“I said mild treason,” Ronan corrected.
The child huffed and jumped off the stool, then ran straight into Aria.
Small arms wrapped around her waist.
Aria froze for only a second before hugging her back.
Warmth moved through her chest.
Mira stepped back and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Did my brother punish you?”
Aria snorted softly.
Ronan gasped. “She snorts too?”
“I did not snort.”
“You absolutely did.”
Mira grabbed Aria’s hand. “Come with me. I’m escaping lessons.”
“That sounds illegal,” Ronan said.
“It is,” Mira replied proudly.
They followed her into a smaller sitting room filled with books, cushions, and scattered toys. Circular windows filled the room with soft daylight. For the first time since arriving, the palace felt less like a prison and more like a home.
Mira climbed into a chair and patted the seat beside her.
Aria sat.
Ronan sprawled across a couch.
“So,” he asked, “what is your grand plan?”
“My plan?”
“Yes. Kill him? Ruin him emotionally? Weaponize breakfast items?”
She considered.
“All of the above.”
Ronan clutched his chest. “Poetry.”
Mira raised her hand eagerly. “Can I help?”
“No,” Aria and Ronan said together.
The child sighed.
Then the room changed.
Warmth vanished.
The air tightened.
Even Mira noticed.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Measured.
Certain.
Aria knew them instantly.
Kael entered.
Fresh black shirt. Dark trousers. Damp hair pushed back from his forehead. No trace of jam remained.
Which was disappointing.
His gaze found her immediately.
Held.
Ronan rose slowly. “Ah. The victim survives.”
Kael ignored him.
“Mira. Lessons.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She likes me more than you.”
“I know.”
Mira gasped in outrage, then climbed down.
Before leaving, she hugged Aria again and whispered loudly, “He was worse before you came.”
Then she marched out.
Ronan stood as well.
“I suddenly remember urgent duties elsewhere.”
“You have none,” Kael said.
“Yet I must go perform them.”
He winked at Aria and slipped out.
The door closed.
Silence settled over the room.
Aria remained seated.
She would not stand for him.
She would not fidget.
She would not notice how devastatingly good he looked in black.
Too late.
He walked toward her slowly.
Each step was deliberate.
Predatory.
Confident.
He stopped directly in front of her chair.
Close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes.
Mistake.
From this angle, he was unfair.
The hard line of his jaw. The shadow along his throat. The broad stretch of shoulders beneath fitted cloth. Strong hands relaxed at his sides, though tension simmered beneath the surface.
Her thoughts slipped before she could stop them.
What would happen if she grabbed his shirt and dragged him down to her?
Would that arrogant mouth finally lose control if she bit his lower lip?
Would those hands close around her waist the way they had in the kitchen?
Would he make that same low sound again if she touched the scars hidden beneath his shirt?
Heat rushed through her body so suddenly it stole her breath.
Aria’s fingers tightened around the chair.
No.
This was wrong.
This was the man she should want dead.
The man who had stood in blood while her world ended.
She forced herself to remember.
Her mother.
Her father.
Lucian.
The ballroom floor.
Hatred.
But something shifted.
The scent in the room deepened.
What had once been merely intoxicating became overwhelming. It wrapped around her senses, sank beneath her skin, turned thought soft and distant.
Kael’s own expression changed.
His breathing slowed.
Then deepened.
His pupils darkened.
The air between them became charged, alive, impossible to ignore.
“You laugh easily with them,” he said quietly.
She barely heard him.
Her body felt strange—too warm, too aware, every nerve pulled tight toward the male standing over her.
He bent, placing one hand on each arm of the chair, caging her in.
“You let my sister hold you.”
Closer.
“You smile for my Beta.”
His voice roughened.
“You speak to everyone.”
Another inch.
“Why not me?”
She should have shoved him away.
Should have turned her face.
Should have remembered every reason to hate him.
Instead, her gaze dropped to his mouth.
The room disappeared.
There was only heat.
Only hunger.
Only him.
Before her mind could stop her, Aria grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down.
Her lips crashed against his.
And the world shattered.
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