The Royal Library at midnight was less a room for reading and more a cavern of held breath.
Kaia slipped through the heavy oak doors, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The air inside was cool and smelled of dust, beeswax, and centuries of accumulated knowledge that nobody in the royal family actually read.
It was silent. Oppressively so.
She took a step forward. Her slipper made a soft scuff against the marble floor.
"You're late," a voice whispered.
Kaia froze. The voice hadn't come from behind her. It sounded like it was right next to her ear—intimate, warm, and distinct. But the room was empty.
"I know you're there, Kaia," the voice murmured again, the sound seeming to slide down the curved walls of the domed ceiling. "I can hear your pulse."
"That is physically impossible," Kaia hissed at the empty room, clutching her wrap tighter around her shoulders. "Unless you are a bat."
"Look up."
She walked further into the room, her eyes adjusting to the moonlight streaming through the high clerestory windows.
In the North Alcove, a massive rolling ladder was propped against a towering wall of ancient texts. Perched at the very top, sitting comfortably on the small wooden platform with one leg dangling casually over the edge, was Prince Aeron.
He wasn't wearing his velvet coat. He was in a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were unfairly muscular for a man who spent his days signing treaties.
And he was reading.
"A treatise on agricultural reform?" Kaia asked, walking to the base of the ladder. "You know how to show a girl a good time."
Aeron snapped the book shut. He looked down at her, his silver eyes catching a beam of moonlight. He looked like a fallen angel contemplating whether to climb back up or just burn the world down.
"I find crop rotation soothing," he said, his voice low. "It is orderly. Predictable. Unlike you."
"I am perfectly predictable," Kaia countered. "I ignore your orders."
"Is that so?"
He dropped the book.
It fell twenty feet, landing with a heavy thud on the carpeted floor. In the silence of the library, it sounded like a cannon blast.
Kaia jumped. "Are you insane? The guards—"
"The guards are on the perimeter," Aeron said, beginning his descent. He moved down the ladder with fluid, terrifying grace. "And Caspian is outside the main door. He has a very large stack of encyclopedias ready to drop should we require... acoustic cover."
He reached the floor and turned to face her. The height difference was always jarring. He loomed over her, radiating heat and the scent of tobacco that he'd tried to scrub away with mint.
"You sent a very rude message back with my valet," Aeron murmured, stepping into her space.
"You sent a very rude demand in a napkin," Kaia shot back, lifting her chin. "I am not one of your soldiers, Aeron. I do not march on command."
"No," he agreed. His hand—gloved in white silk, as always—reached out to graze her jawline. "Soldiers are easier to train."
He stared at her, his gaze dropping slowly, deliberately, down the length of her body. She was wearing a simple night-robe over her chemise, hastily thrown on. It covered everything, yet under his inspection, she felt like she was standing naked in the snow.
"Well?" he asked softly.
"Well what?"
"The stockings, Kaia." His voice dropped an octave, vibrating in her chest. "Did you wear them?"
Kaia swallowed. The air in the library suddenly felt very thin.
"I told you," she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "If you want to see them, you have to find them."
Aeron's eyes darkened. The "Saint" mask evaporated, replaced by the "Shadow Sinner" who had wrecked her in the garden.
"Careful, little sheep," he warned. "I am very good at finding things."
He grabbed her waist.
He didn't pull her into a kiss. He spun her around and backed her up until her spine hit the wooden rungs of the ladder.
"Hold on," he commanded.
Kaia reached back, gripping the ladder rungs blindly. "Aeron—"
"Shh." He pressed a finger to her lips. "The Whispering Gallery. Remember? If you moan, the acoustics will carry it straight to the corridor. Do you want the night patrol to hear exactly how much you enjoy this?"
"I won't moan," she defied him, biting her lip.
"We'll see."
He knelt.
The rustle of his fabric as he moved was deafening in the silence. Aeron's hands caught the hem of her night-robe and chemise. He lifted them, slowly, letting the cool air brush her ankles, then her calves.
He stopped.
Kaia looked down. In the moonlight, the blue silk stockings shimmered against her pale skin. They were held up by intricate black lace garters that dug softly into her thighs.
Aeron let out a breath that sounded like a prayer to a dark god.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
He ran his gloved hands up her calves, the silk of his gloves sliding frictionlessly against the silk of her stockings. It was a sensation of pure, liquid luxury.
"Keep your voice down," he murmured, his hands reaching the garters. He traced the lace with his thumbs, pressing into her skin.
Then, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the bare skin of her inner thigh, just above the silk band.
Kaia's head fell back against the ladder. A small, broken sound escaped her throat.
Mmmph.
"Too loud," Aeron whispered against her skin.
He moved higher.
He didn't remove the stockings. He seemed to revere them. He treated her legs like architectural pillars he was studying for structural weakness.
"You are shaking," he noted, his breath hot against her sensitive skin.
"It's... cold," Kaia lied.
He stood up, letting her skirts fall but keeping her pinned against the ladder with his body. He was eye-level with her again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of blue silk ribbon—the match to her stockings.
"Open your mouth," he ordered softly.
Kaia stared at him. "Why?"
"Because you are going to get loud. And I can't have you getting us executed."
He brought the ribbon to her lips. It was a gag. A soft, makeshift gag.
The rebellion in her chest flared, but it was drowned out by the darker, heavier pull of desire. She wanted to surrender. She wanted him to take control so she didn't have to think about Victoria or the crown or the lies.
She opened her mouth.
Aeron tied the ribbon behind her head, securing it gently but firmly between her teeth. It tasted of silk and his scent.
"Good girl," he praised, his eyes gleaming.
He reached under her skirts again. This time, he didn't stop at the stockings.
He found her heat.
Kaia bit down on the ribbon as his fingers—still gloved, the texture strange and illicit against her wetness—began to move.
He watched her face. He watched her eyes flutter shut, watched her brow furrow, watched her bite the blue silk as the pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
He was relentless. He was a scholar of her body, testing angles, testing pressure, adjusting his rhythm every time she got close to the edge, only to stop and let her hover there in agony.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper.
Kaia forced her eyes open. He was staring at her with a terrifying intensity, devouring her expression.
"You are ruin," he told her, his thumb pressing down hard. "You are the end of me."
He gave her the release.
Kaia screamed into the ribbon. It was a muffled, desperate cry that vibrated in her throat. Her body convulsed, her knees buckling, held up only by Aeron's arm around her waist and the ladder behind her.
Outside in the corridor, a massive, deafening CRASH echoed through the stone halls.
"OH, BLUSTERING GODS!" Caspian shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "I HAVE DROPPED THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF BOTANY! AGAIN! SO CLUMSY!"
Kaia sagged against Aeron, breathing heavily through her nose, the aftershocks rocking her.
Aeron rested his forehead against hers. He reached up and untied the ribbon, letting it fall from her mouth.
"I think," he whispered, wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow with his thumb, "that Caspian has just earned a raise."