Duja turned red as a beet. “No⁠—I mean, I didn’t mean to presume⁠—”

Before the princess could talk herself into a stupor, Imeria kissed her again, pressing her against the cool stone of the outer wall. But rather than sigh against Imeria’s lips, Duja stiffened. She braced her hands against Imeria’s collarbone and pushed her away.

“You can’t do that,” she said sternly. “Not here.”

Imeria’s throat clenched. “Yes. My apologies, Dayang.” She could not keep the bitterness from seeping into her tone as she stepped back, shame heating her ears. Roughly, she brushed past Duja and made a beeline for the courtyard.

Duja groaned and ran to catch up with her. “Imeria, wait,” she said, and grabbed her hand.

Imeria wrenched her hand back as if burned. “You can’t be like this, Duja⁠—loving one moment, hateful the next,” she said, tears threatening to spill out from the corners of her eyelids. “You’re cruel to me. It’s not fair.”

Duja pursed her lips. “Please, Imeria, be reasonable. There’s nothing cruel about my wanting to exercise a bit of discretion⁠—”

“Discretion?” Imeria let out a high-pitched laugh. “You and I both know it’s more than that.” She barreled around the corner with Duja close on her tail.

“What do you want from me, Imeria?” Duja called after her, her voice strained. “Tell me, and I shall give it to you.”

Imeria froze in her tracks. They were standing in the courtyard now, mere steps away from the entrance hall of the eastern wing. The sun, still high in the sky, beat down on the nape of her neck. Sweat beaded along her back, likely soaking through the thin fabric of her blouse. She could hardly breathe. How did capital dwellers stand it? The air in Mariit was thick as tar, stifling.

“I want you,” Imeria murmured, hands clenched into fists at her sides. All I could ever want is you.

Over her shoulder, she heard Duja steer to a stop. She refused to turn around. She imagined the princess’s face, her soft lips contorted into a confused frown.

“Imeria,” Duja said, a throaty whisper that sent a bolt of longing down the column of Imeria’s spine.

Nasty snickers erupted in the courtyard. Both girls whipped around. To their right, the crown prince emerged from the shadows of the arcades. He slouched against one of the pillars, a vile smirk on his face.

“Pangil,” Duja snapped. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His black eyes flitted over to Imeria. “Didn’t think you were the type to wear your heart on your sleeve, Kulaw.”

Anger boiled in Imeria’s veins. She took a menacing step toward the prince, but Duja laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Leave her alone, Pangil,” Duja said. “This doesn’t involve you.”