CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tarquin woke her the next morning, his hand on her back and his face inches from her as he knelt next to the bed. His hair was messy, and his mouth was close enough that she could kiss him with very little effort. His nose brushed against hers.
“Come eat with me?” he whispered.
Mira blinked sleepily, then turned over to see Eve sprawled across the couch, still sleeping.
He followed her gaze. “She hasn’t been asleep long. We should let her rest.”
Mira nodded. She sat up and let the blankets fall around her waist, then rose and pulled her gown over her sleeping clothes. “Good enough?” she asked quietly.
“Perfect,” he said. A warm fluttering shot through her.
The way he took her hand easily in the hall, the way his hand rested on her back as they walked down the stairs, the way they walked in step and in silence; all worked together to have her breathless and confused just minutes after waking. She sat at a small table and he seated himself right next to her, and then he pushed his chair towards her and his arm was around her and his chin rested on her shoulder. She waited for what he would do— what more was to come— but there was nothing more, just an easy affection that was so foreign to her that it made her want to cry.
She was totally, utterly his, but the sweetness of his actions made her nervous, made her try to remind herself to be cautious. It had been like this once before, and that hadn’t lasted. There was no guarantee that this would continue, nothing except the look in his eyes that promised more— more of this, a lifetime of this.
So when he tangled his fingers with her and kissed the back of her hand, the words slipped from her without her trying to say them. “What is this?” she asked. “What are we… doing?”
He gazed at her for a long time, silent as the universe decided that just that second their breakfasts needed to be served. He held her hand all the while, squeezed it reassuringly, and spoke when they were again alone at their table. “Would you hate me if I said I don’t know?”
“I’ll always hate you,” she said, but her fingers brushing over his and the way her lips curved as she spoke betrayed her words.
“I know,” he said.
They ate then, and as he told her about what he’d learned from Cyrus, and from Augustus, and then bumped her knee with his— she relaxed. It was still there, the tension in her chest— she wondered if it always would be— but it wasn’t consuming. She could just enjoy this, even if it was just as friends. Friends who held hands and shared burning looks. It was safer, though, safer than considering the alternative.
They arrived at the palace late in the night. They’d traveled slower than Mira had hoped, but Eve had needed to stop frequently to stretch and relieve herself. By the time they got there everything was eerily silent and the halls were deserted.
Mira guided a weary Eve to the empty room she’d slept in during her very first night at the palace, and once her things were hung in the wardrobe and she was tucked into her bed, Mira promised to come by the next morning and slipped out of the room.
Tarquin was waiting for her in the hall when she emerged, and once she’d shut the door behind her he closed the short distance between them and cradled her face between his palms, angled up to look at him. Her breath hitched in her throat— his eyes were scorching and her blood was burning and she was sure he would kiss her, for the first time since that stupid, perfect day. He didn’t, though, just studied her face for a long moment. He dropped his hands from her face, then, and wound his arms around her back and pulled her against him.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m glad we’re home.”
Mira didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded against him and savored the heat from his chest under her cheek.
He released her all at once and she mourned the loss of his touch as soon as he did.
“I need to find Helias,” he said. “I’ll see you… in the morning?”
It was odd— the hesitant, almost hopeful way that he said it. She nodded again, though, and flashed a tentative smile at him, and then he smiled back and awkwardly reached for her but didn’t touch her.
“Good night, Mira,” he said, and she turned and fled to her room, pleased to be home and disappointed to be apart from him so quickly.
Mira awoke with a tight chest and a persistent cough. She probably wasn’t ill enough to skip breakfast and stay in her room all day as she immediately wished to do, and she had Eve to look after, so she pulled herself out of bed and dressed slowly. She watched herself in her mirror as she dressed, examining the golden glow her face had taken on after a week on the farm. It was nice, she thought, she looked healthy— despite the rattling in her chest and pressure in her head.
It had been so decadent to sleep in her own bed again that she hardly minded the way she felt, and as she walked through the familiar hallways and scattered sitting areas to Eve’s room, she mused over the fact that she was home. It hadn’t felt that way when she’d initially arrived, or even when she’d left, but now that she was back, there was no doubt— it was home.
Eve greeted her warily, dressed and alert, and Mira felt guilty for leaving her waiting for so long. She ushered her along to the queen’s parlor, where the rest of the ladies gathered daily before breakfast.
Lily adored Eve right away, as she did with everyone. That hadn’t surprised Mira at all. What had surprised her was the baby in the middle of the room demanding everyone’s attention, and the crowd of ladies giving it to him— even the queen was exclaiming over his round cheeks and blue eyes and red hair.
Annie stood a little out of the crowd, looking intensely uncomfortable, so Mira came to her side with Eve clinging to her hand all the while.
“They’re a little much, sometimes,” Mira said quietly, and Annie’s eyes darted in her direction and then she was hugging her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her eyes bright. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother.”
Mira shrugged it off with a faint smile, uncomfortable to be consoled when her brother’s widow stood right next to her.
She introduced Eve, and a minute later Annie was sympathizing with her over pregnancy woes. Mira couldn’t relate, and couldn’t ignore her pounding head any longer, so when they were laughing together for the third time, Mira begged Annie to look after Eve and excused herself hastily. Eve waved her off with half a smile, telling her to rest, which at least assuaged the guilt that had been settling around Mira’s shoulders.
Back in her room she fell into bed, wishing to sleep again but knowing it wouldn’t come— she was too uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the mild illness, though. It was the guilt she felt at leaving her parents again. It was the uncertainty of her life at the palace and not knowing how to spend her days. And it was Tarquin. Everything that had passed between them since she’d left— she’d gone from not speaking to him to casually fucking him to being totally and completely in love with him. There had been anger after that, of course, and now confusion in not knowing where things stood, but what bothered her the most was that she was fairly certain she had never made it past the love part. She wasn’t sure if she ever would.
And she didn’t know what this was. He seemed to be comfortable touching her, which she would never protest, but he hadn’t kissed her and hadn’t tried to have sex with her. She wouldn’t have protested those things either, and yet, maybe it was better this way.
She was scared, she finally admitted to herself, because she adored him and needed him and wanted to plan her life around him. She didn’t know what she was to him, and that terrified her.