“We’re going to waste so much food.” With a light laugh, she eased away from the heated moment.

They ended up pushing together the two chaises, making a platform upon which they dined. Aldrik sat in one corner of the half square the backs made when put together and Vhalla occupied the other. He told her the different foods that surrounded them with expert precision, offering insights onto their origins or the best way to enjoy them. They spoke about dining etiquette and differences in cultures.

“Do you like the West or the South more?” she asked between bites.

“For what? Food?” He spooned a bit of rice.

“Everything,” she specified.

“That is a hard choice. Sorcerers are undoubtedly treated better in the West; I’m generally more loved here as a result. But I grew up in the South; my ties here are only through visiting. The palace is my home.” Aldrik turned the question to her. “And you? East or South?”

Vhalla chewed on her food a moment to give herself time to think. “It’s not too difficult really ... I come from very little in the East.” Vhalla looked down at the food; she hated the reminders of who she really was at times like this. They shattered her fantasies. “The palace is home for me also in most ways.”

“What is your childhood home like?” Aldrik stretched to reach a platter.

The idea of home held a bittersweet sort of beauty. “My home, it’s a small place. It’s stone, a roof that was badly in need of replacement the last time I was there. We’ve a wooden barn to keep a horse for plow.”

“I would like to see it,” he said casually. Vhalla couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and he frowned at her. “I would.”

“The crown prince? In Leoul? In my home?” Vhalla’s laughter rang out again. “My father may disown me for letting someone like you inside.”

The rest of the conversation was relaxed and easy between them. They spoke, lounged with food about them on the chaises and table, and talked well into the evening about everything and nothing. When it was clear they’d both had their fill, he got up to clean the plates and Vhalla helped. Old habits died hard; it felt strange to see the prince of the realm cleaning his own food when she was there. He insisted he could do it himself—she insisted she would help him.

She hovered as Aldrik returned from placing the cart in the hall for the wait staff to take care of. The outside of the stained glass was dark and Vhalla knew it was late.

“I should go,” she whispered.

Aldrik stared at her silently for a long moment, taking both hands in his. “Stay.”

“Aldrik?” Vhalla questioned.

“Stay here,” he affirmed. Vhalla bit her lip, unsure of what he was really asking. “I have more than enough space. Elecia said the chaises are comfortable.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you near me. I don’t want you to leave.” His directness pierced her and she felt her heart begin to pick up the same speed as earlier.

“I shouldn’t.” Her words were weak and faint. Was he asking what she thought he was?

“You’re right.” He nodded, his voice was soft and deep. “Will you?”

Vhalla tried to find grounds to object. Fritz and Larel surely wouldn’t care, and there were few other people who would notice her absence. He hadn’t explicitly spoken of her sharing his bed, but would it happen? Vhalla swallowed hard. If it did, was she ready for it? If she wasn’t, she knew Aldrik wouldn’t force it upon her. All of Vhalla’s reason objected that it was a poor decision.

But she was too overwhelmed by his proximity.

“I will. I’ll stay,” she whispered.

He laughed softly with a shake of his head. “It’s the first time.”

“What is?”

“That I’ve asked a woman to stay with me while being completely uncertain about how she will respond.” Aldrik looked at her in relief. It was an odd thing to say, but Prince Baldair’s words came back to Vhalla. His stories of the hunt, of his brother knowing exactly what would happen, exactly what even she would do. Yet, it seemed like the infamous silver-tongued prince hadn’t calculated what was happening between them. Her own relief spread over her.

“How many times have you asked a woman to stay with you?” she teased gently.

“Well,” Aldrik seemed to be at a loss for words. “Before this? Not many who mattered even slightly.”

Vhalla felt a flush rise across her whole body. She took a half step closer, closing the gap between them. Aldrik tilted his cheek into her bold fingertips as they made feather-light trails over his pronounced cheekbone. Vhalla outlined his brow, down over the bump in his nose, the edge of his jaw, she wanted to remember every detail exactly. Her thumb brushed the corner of his lips and she felt herself move without thinking.

Aldrik tilted his head to meet her halfway, ensnaring her in a slow and purposeful kiss. Every shift, every brief opening of his mouth, made her ache for more. Aldrik’s fingers buried themselves in her hair. She was pulled against him, sighing in soft release as she felt his magic slip over her skin once more.

The prince pulled away suddenly.

Vhalla swallowed, blinking. “Aldrik ...” Her voice was strange even to her own ears, desire changing it.

“I love you, Vhalla,” Aldrik forced himself to say.