Prince of Traitors

Jasper

I laugh as Owin pulls me away from the bonfire. There's a copse of willow trees near the edge of the village, the spindly branches draping to the ground. She brushes the branches aside like a curtain, pulling me under the shade of the tree. The bark and leaves still slinging to the branches are limned with dappled moonlight that glimmers along Owin's hair and bare shoulders. The fallen, dead leaves crumble and crack under our feet.

She spins and pulls me to her. Her cheeks are flushed from the wine, her hair cascading down her back. Her smile is bright and lovely.

"Come on, Your Highness," she says. "Odrendi waltz. Let's go."

I laugh. "I'm rubbish at dancing, so don't say I didn't warn you," I say. She laughs as I drop her hand. "Okay, so first, I bow and you curtsy." I step back from her and fold one arm behind my back, the other folding over my stomach as I bend at the waist and bow low to Owin. She lifts her skirt slightly and curtsies to me.

When she stands upright, I step toward her and take her hand, holding it aloft in mine. Her free hand goes to my shoulder and mine rests on her small waist over the green gown she wears. "Uh, okay, now mirror my steps," I say. "Step back first."

I watch our feet as I step into her. She eases backward, and I guide her in a small square, stepping to the side and turning. "Shit, wait, no—it's this way," I stammer, misremembering the steps and abruptly changing direction. I stumble into Owin, and she laughs. "Sorry," I say. "It's the wine. It's making me worse at this than usual."

"Can you not handle your liquor, Your Highness?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

I squint at her. "Is that a challenge?"

She laughs and grins up at me. I lift her hand in mine and she spins under my arm. She returns to me and our steps slow to gentle swaying. My hand on her waist pulls her against me. We've stopped really dancing, but Owin doesn't seem to mind. She looks up at me, her silver eyes bright.

"You look beautiful tonight," I whisper to her.

She smiles, catches her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm glad you noticed," she says, arching an eyebrow at me.

I laugh. "Smartass."

She lowers her eyes for a second as she laughs, but raises her gaze to mine again. "Thank you," she says, her voice soft.

I smile down at her, my head tilting slightly to one side as my eyes slide over her face. I hold her gaze for a long time. "I thought you were beautiful from the first moment I saw you."

Owin tilts her head to one side. "Really?" she asks.

I nod. I think back to the first time I saw her, forced to her knees as my father sentenced her to servitude. She was beautiful—and so strong—even as she glared up at him. My eye travels to her mutilated right ear poling out from the silky waves of her hair, and my smile fades as guilt floods me, making my heart ache for the woman in my arms. "I should've done something," I breathe. "You went through such terrible things in Highcaster. I could've prevented some of it if I'd stood up to my father—"

"No, Jas," Owin says. She pulls me to a stop and sobers, her expression becoming serious. "You didn't know me, you had no reason to do anything."

I shrug one shoulder. "Doesn't mean it was right," I say.

The hand on my shoulder lifts and comes to cup my cheek. I lean my head into Owin's hand as her thumb strokes my face. "It's in the past," she whispers. I angle my head and kiss the heel of her hand. "You're here now. You're here with me. That's what matters." Her voice is barely more than a breath, her lovely face just inches from mine.

Her silver eyes slide to my mouth—just for a second—and back up to meet my gaze. She exhales. Her lips part. I don't think. I lean down and our mouths collide like shooting stars.

She leans up into me, her breath warm under my mouth. I feel her arms snake up and loop around the back of my neck, and she presses her body against mine. I feel her fingers in my hair. My arms encircle her waist. It feels like we are the only souls in the world, like every moment of my life has led me to her.

Too soon, she pulls away, though her arms stay around my neck. Our breaths are heavy between us, her face barely a hair's breadth from mine.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "I've wanted—Saints, I've wanted you for a long time."

Owin grins. "I knew it," she says, and her response surprises a laugh from me. Her voice is quiet when she says, "Me too."

She kisses me again, smiling against my lips. Her hands trail down my chest and arms, and she interlaces her fingers with mine. When she backs away again, she holds both my hands in hers and pulls me along with her.