Page 99 of Dare
“I do not have a reason.” He gestured to the package. “I came across this plant and thought of you.”
Fighting to contain a smile, I worked the bow loose, giving Jeryn a shrewd mock-glare at the knot he’d attempted, apparently to test my skills.
“Nice try,” I snarked while picking apart the cord.
The corner of his mouth ticked up. However, he remained agitated as the broadleaves flapped apart to reveal a corked bottle filled with glistening gold fluid.
At my inquiring look, Jeryn hastened to speak. “It’s a preservative. An oil extracted from an herb. To protect the weaving in your nets.”
Amazed, I peered at the liquid. I’d been mourning the lack of plant oils here, often used to keep sand and fishing nets intact, and had mentioned it to Jeryn—only once, months ago.
Yet he’d remembered.
When I made no reply, the prince’s features twisted. “It’s practical,” he emphasized in a rush. “It will give your hands a rest and keep them from chafing. I see how often you maintain those nets, and—fucking hell.” He carded a hand through his mane. “This was unimaginative and a stupid idea. I should have made you hand salve instead. Something scented with plumeria—”
I launched at him and flung my arms around his shoulders. Jeryn went still, his own arms extending and hovering. A second later, he enfolded me in his strong embrace, my toes inching off the floor.
I twisted my head and spoke into his hair, “Thank you.”
Presents had been rare in my life, as it seemed gratitude had been rare in his. As I pulled away, relief and a tinge of pride flickered across his face, shortly before he smoothed out that expression.
Jeryn gestured toward one of the hallways. He lifted his free hand, setting it abreast of my lower back and ushering me without touching. “Come.”
Except I stayed put as he strode toward the wrong corridor. Registering that I hadn’t moved, he turned and raised an eyebrow.
“The dining hall is that way,” I said, indicating a different passage.
In the dimly lit chamber, the villain prince’s irises glittered. “We are not going to the dining hall.”
Without another word, he offered his hand. Drawn to that mystery, I set my free fingers in his.
Jeryn’s hand folded around mine. The contact threw flecks of heat up my arms, the rush going to my head. As though experiencing the same jolt, the prince’s grip on me tightened.
He strode ahead, guiding me through the ruins and into one of the caves. Behind him, I clutched the bottle of oil in one grip and fought to collect myself. How could holding this man’s hand yield the same profound emotions he’d wrought in his medical chamber, when I rode his tongue? The effects teetered between scary and invigorating, like holding a shooting star, a burning thing. More than that, it felt safe.
At one point, I stuffed the bottle in my skirt pocket and reached out to touch Jeryn’s hair, but then I pulled back at the final moment. If I made contact, we might never leave this tunnel.
We navigated through the passage—which he’d also illuminated with torches—and crossed a vast distance before emerging aboveground. Stepping from an archway nestled within a knoll, Jeryn led me into the eventide.
I sucked in a gust of air. We stood at the threshold of an unfamiliar cove. It was smaller than the others, with frothy white sand curling around a glossy bay. Ferns swayed in the breeze, boulders laced in blossoms rose from the depths, and a thousand stars swam on the water’s tranquil surface.
Jeryn released my hands and watched as I floated ahead, a mesmerized gasp slipping from my lips. “Divine Seasons,” I said, twisting this way and that. “I would have remembered us finding this place.”
“We didn’t,” his baritone voice replied. “I did.”
I veered his way, a breeze sweeping through my locks. It was impossible to miss those irises gleaming with satisfaction. I might be a sand drifter, but he came from a land of hunters, and he’d chased me across two kingdoms. Of course, I wasn’t the only one who could find hidden things.
Jeryn’s confidence wavered. “Do … you like it?”
A grin split my face as I marveled at the scene. “It’s breathtaking.”
Then I noticed a stump tucked beneath the awning of a tree, the drooping branches and their willowy foliage forming a curtain. Two stools abutted the stump, where a candle gleamed, likely kindled by Summer tinder. Plates, cutlery, a pair of chalices, and a covered trencher graced the makeshift table.
A lump budded in my throat. I peeked at Jeryn hovering nearby, then swerved back to the ambience. He must have brought items from the ruins, which must have taken half the day.
No one had done something like this for me before. I’d never sat at a fancy table in my life.
Jeryn’s shadow loomed at my back. “It’s not as elegant as I would have liked.”