“My mistake.” A corner of his mouth quirked up.

He was standing so close. She could smell the rose oil on his skin. See the droplets of water caught in his eyelashes. Feel the weight of his gaze on her, searching for the answer to an unasked question. And then his eyes fell to her lips. Before Emry knew what was happening, the distance between them had vanished.

Arthur’s lips pressed softly against hers, in a kiss that was sweet and forbidden and dangerous. She melted into it, tasting the salt and heat of his mouth.

The kiss grew bolder, hungrier, and she surrendered into it. Into him. The room spun, and everything inside of her went molten. The world was elsewhere, nowhere, unimportant. All that mattered was the taste of him, and the flutter of his fingers against her jaw.

Heat spread across her skin, and a groan tore from her throat. She arched forward, overwhelmed by the insistent pressure of his warm, wet tongue against hers. And then, by the insistent pressure of something else, much lower.

Arthur released her roughly, the kiss ending as abruptly as it had begun. The look in his eyes was one of total panic.

She stared at him in alarm, her heart skittering in her chest.

How had she let this happen?

“I—” she began.

“I’m—” Arthur said at the same time, his voice ragged.

He turned away, clearing his throat, and took the opportunity to wrap the towel more firmly around his waist.

A knock sounded on the door to the bathing chamber, making them both jump.

“What is it?” Arthur asked roughly.

“The guests are beginning to arrive, Your Highness,” Brannor called.

Arthur swore, running a hand through his hair in anguish. “I’m nearly dressed,” he lied.

Emry stared helplessly at the prince.

“Do you need—”

“No,” Arthur ground out. “Just go.”

Emry’s cheeks burned from the cold dismissal as she turned and fled the prince’s chambers.

CHAPTER 30

Emry hurried through the hall, her cheeks flaming, her heart a wild and skittering thing.

Arthur had kissed her, and she had kissed him back. And what a kiss it had been. Not just a chaste brush of their lips, but an agonizing ecstasy. A tangle of desire and heat and—sard. How had she been so foolish?

The king’s birthday celebration was about to begin, and the castle had never been more crowded. Master Ambrosius had suspended her lessons so that she might attend the festivities. Be careful, he had cautioned.

This had been the opposite of careful.

Emry squeezed past a retinue of attendants in unfamiliar livery, headed to the throne room. She’d been looking forward to that evening’s banquet and concert, but not anymore.

Just go.

She winced as she remembered the panic and horror that had flashed across Arthur’s face after—after he’d pushed her away.