I tiptoe back down the winding spiral stairs, shoes in hand so they don’t make noise. It’s now far too late for me to be anywhere but bed — if I get caught, it’ll be suspicious.

Luckily, for now at least, I’m above suspicion. I’ve never done anything that would warrant it — the perfect, sweet, virginal princess.

Formerly perfect, formerly virginal, I think, creeping downward as a final drop of Declan’s semen makes it way down my inner thigh.

I smile at my secret. Even though I’m exhausted and a little sore, just the memory of it — of Declan growling in my ear, pumping himself into me, filling me up — has me ready to do it all again, right now.

I can’t believe I begged him. I can’t believe I said those things.

I reach the bottom step, push the heavy wooden door open, and look to either side.

The coast is clear. The entrances of the palace are heavily guarded, of course, but the interior corridors are only patrolled about once an hour. After all, a visiting dignitary heading to the kitchen for a drink of water isn’t the real threat — those come from outside.

I make my way out of the west wing of the palace, crossing through silent, dark salons, chambers, and halls, until I’m at the south wing, where the royal residences are. I’m half lost in a dreamland, half fantasizing about tomorrow night, the things that Declan and I will do.

There are so many positions to try, I think. So many other things to do...

I blush at the thought, despite myself.

Just because he made you feel good once doesn’t mean you should get too involved, I tell myself, sternly. There’s always—

“Miss,” a voice barks, and I stop dead in my tracks. “Halt!”

I’m rooted to the spot, pretty sure that’s the voice of Hans, the head of palace security.

I’m caught. Busted. Shit.

“Please turn slowly and don’t make any sudden moves,” he goes on.

I take a deep breath, and slowly spin until I’m facing him. The second I am, his face changes.

“Your Highness,” he says, ducking my head. “My apologies, please, I didn’t recognize you from behind — and at this hour —”

Even though Hans is all contrition, he glances at the shoes in my hand. They’re strappy high heels, appropriate for a ball — not what anyone would put on to take a midnight stroll.

For that matter, neither is my ball gown.

Nervously, I smile at Hans.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, apologetically.

“Of course, Your Highness,” he says. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were an intruder.”

“Just me.” I smile.

He bows again, gesturing for me to continue on my way, so I walk back to my room, heart thumping.

He knows I’m lying, I think. And he might tell my father, and then my father will want to know where I was until so late, dressed like this...

In my room, I shut the door, then lean my forehead against it.

If he asks, just tell him that Bianca had boy drama, I think. She’s always having boy drama, somehow, even though she’s never really had a boyfriend.

He thinks she’s a drama queen. He’ll believe it.

I take a deep breath, satisfied, and get ready for bed. Once my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep in seconds.

* * *

“Tea?” Declan offers, lifting the ceramic pot.

I fight the blush rising into my cheeks and smile at him, innocently.

“Thank you,” I say.

Beg me to fuck you, I think of him saying. My hand jerks, and I splash tea on my saucer.

Luckily, no one notices, and I set the teapot back on the table without looking at him.

“...And that means that either we appease Lord Hardson and his idiot sons by playing tennis with them in the early afternoon, or we please Lady Rostra by attending her tea party,” my father is saying.

Next to him, my mother sighs.

“I don’t see why we have to appease either of them, dear,” she says. “Neither of them carries any real weight in Parliament, and it isn’t as if we need their support for any political dealings in the coming months. Besides which, even though they’re both preening nincompoops, I think if something important came up, they could see past tennis...”

Suddenly, I realize Grayson is staring at me across the table. I smile at him, hoping I look sunny and innocent, but he doesn’t smile back. He looks lost in thought, like he’s trying to figure something out.

I take a big bite of scone and look away.

He doesn’t know, I tell myself. How could he know? Hans wouldn’t have a reason to say anything, and besides, it would be a lot of assumptions for Grayson to make...

We all keep eating. I stay quiet, even though Declan is laughing and joking with everyone at the table, having himself a grand old time. I can’t help but alternate between being worried and being jealous — worried that somehow, my brother’s found out, and jealous that Declan is paying attention to other people, even other women.

He’s just laughing at jokes, sure, but still.

Finally, breakfast is over, and we all stand to leave the room. But as I walk out there’s a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see my brother’s serious face.

“Aurora,” he says. “A word?”

My heart takes a swan dive into my stomach, but I force myself to smile anyway.

“Sure,” I say, and let him pull me back into the breakfast room.

He looks tired, probably the result of having a three-month-old son, but his eyes search mine anyway.

“The head of security told me that you were out and about very late last night,” he says. “Is everything all right?”

“Grayson, I’m allowed to take a walk in the palace, I’m not—”

He holds up one hand, looking startled.

“Aurora, I wasn’t saying that. Of course you are,” he says. “I’m just asking if everything is all right.”

I swallow hard, fighting down my nerves.

Don’t get too defensive, I tell myself. Act normal.

“Sorry,” I say, forcing myself to smile. “I just couldn’t sleep last night, so I’m a little tired and on edge today.”

“You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

I laugh. Too loudly, much too loudly.

“What? No! Trouble, pshaw,” I say. “Just taking a late walk because of insomnia.”

He nods, his eyes suspicious again.

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

We walk out of the breakfast room for the second time, and Grayson changes the subject, talking about tonight’s banquet and the dance that’ll follow. Stefan’s christening is a solid week’s worth of activities, all meticulously planned and executed.

But he knows about the gown and the shoes, I think.

That means he knows you’re probably lying.

You have to warn Declan somehow.

And you definitely can’t meet him tonight.

That last thought is the worst thought I’ve had in a long, long time.