He slid into the space beside her, grabbing a drink as well. He didn’t say anything, just turned to look at her over his goblet as he drank. She watched the long column of his throat. She sensed people watching them, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

He was staring at her lips, which were coated in purple lipstick. She knew it looked as if she’d been sucking on blueberries, her lips plump with stain. He swallowed.

“Shehzadi,” he finally said, breaking the silence. He lowered his head in respect. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Ambassador,” she replied, unamused, even though she was, ever so slightly, charmed by his infectious buoyancy.

“I had heard you are famed for many skills, princess,” he said, lowering his head close to hers so she could hear him over the music. “But I had not known dancing to be one of them.”

Her heart ricocheted against her ribs. Something illicit coursed through her.

“I am a woman of many talents.”

“What else can I expect?” He drew closer. She met his gaze, matched his smirk.

“Good things to those who wait.”

“But I am not very patient,” he sighed, close enough to touch.

“Kasam se?” she asked, voice bored. “Truly?”

“Teri kasam,” he replied.

What a flirt! He swore it on her name as if she meant anything to him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew she was supposed to be sweet-talking the ambassadors, reassuring them that despite Marghazar’s bold customs and manners, they were not cold-blooded enough to plot the murder of their neighbors, but Asfandyar rifled something deep within her.

She bit back a rude retort. She was supposed to be polite.

The banquet was loud, and with each sentence, he drew closer.

“Come now, you are famed for your kindness, yet all you have been to me is cruel.” His grin softened into a pout. Firelight danced in his eyes.

“I am kind to my people,” she countered. “Not those with ill intentions.”

He smiled fully then, drawing close enough to whisper into her neck. His body swallowed the cold space between them, and when he spoke again, his breath was warm against her ears.

“I assure you,” he said. “You don’t know my intentions.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine; he was too close. She wondered if he was drunk, but when she drew back, his eyes were entirely clear of alcohol, simply glittering with mischief.

She narrowed her eyes. She would not be fooled. If this was the game he wanted to play, she would play.

And she would win.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, mirroring the way he had spoken into his neck. They were a whisper away from an embrace. She lifted her chin to speak soft words into his ear.

“Just as you don’t know mine,” she said, voice husky.