She leaned over him, close enough that she could smell the tang of rice wine on his breath. “You, my lord, are much too handsome. The other ladies have started to take notice.”

His grin darkened. He flipped her onto the bed and crawled on top of her. “Jealous, Laya?” he murmured against the hollow of her throat.

“No,” Laya said. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled back hard enough to make him wince. The corners of her lips turned up into a smug smile. She lowered her voice an octave. “Not as long as you’re imprisoned with me.”

Luntok swallowed, the lump bobbing in his throat. For a moment, the fire in his gaze dampened. “I just want to be with you. I don’t care about anything else,” he said, tightening his grip on her waist. She heard a hitch in his tone, a kind of desperation that stretched deeper than lust.

Of all the women in Maynara, Luntok wanted her. Be it the wine or the bustle or the desire surging in her veins, Laya wanted him more than anything else on earth. This was not a war she could win, but she wouldn’t surrender him without a fight.

Laya gazed up at him with a challenge in her lidded eyes. Rather than push him away, she yanked his lips down to meet hers. Luntok kissed her back hungrily, as if he were a dying man devouring his final feast, as if they hadn’t made love mere moments before. He dragged his mouth down her jawline, along the delicate skin of her neck, then lower, lower still.

Her toes curled in delight, and she reached for him beneath the sheets. Luntok tore himself from her touch with a strangled groan.

“Laya, wait.”

Laya fell back against the mattress, relenting. “It’s OK if you can’t keep up, you know,” she told him.

Luntok scowled. “You know I can keep up just fine.”

“I’m only saying,” she said with a shrug. “We can always do other things while we wait.” Laya looked down, pretending to examine her fingernails. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a smirk spread across Luntok’s face.

“We can do whatever you like, Laya,” he said, hovering over her. “Tell me something first.”

“Oh? What would you like to know?” Laya’s eyes fluttered shut as Luntok leaned forward, skimming his lips along her throat once more.

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Rumors?” She let out a dry laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate.”

He kissed down to her shoulder, and she sighed in contentment. “There have been stories⁠—of strange men smuggled inside the palace,” he said, his breath dancing across her collarbone. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything to do with that.”