Amon vel Feyras shrugged his tunic back onto his shoulders.

Amusement twitched his tips. He had spotted a flash of his shadower’s cloak, sweeping beneath the hidden shade when he caught them sneaking a peak of his unglorified strip. The soft breeze carried over a small sigh of resignation from his mystery shadow, and it widened his smirk.

A lean, hooded body slowly stepped out. The crunching leaves crinkled beneath their leather-clad boots, and although he remained relaxed, with his foot resting on the trunk and his hands settled comfortably in his pockets, he tensed when he heard the metal click of their hood unclasping.

His sights settled firmly on the ground, he wondered which of his constant pursuers were here to implore him. The kids down the street who loved to spar with jagged sticks? Or was it one of those wretched “supporters” who urged him to join their pointless game.

“Grand Duke Amon.”

His pulse jumped into his throat.

Whipping his head around, his eyes clashed with those deep turquoise depths he swore would haunt him to his grave one day.

Uncharacteristically stumbling, he straightened. “Your Majesty?”

“Surprised to see me?” she asked lightly.

Yes.

But the word never sounded. Instead, his stare burned into her face.

Jovine de Tristaine could blind a man with her beauty. Even now, with her golden hair knotted at her nape and cloaked in common attire, she was stunning. He doubted she knew how many miserable bastards lusted after their own Empress. Or the smug arrogance the Emperor boasted to have such a woman on his arm — one who was as breathtaking and exquisite as she was, who only had eyes for him.

It maddened him to lengths he didn’t want to explore.

Jovine raised her brows, the growing silence stretching on longer than he intended.

“You’re definitely the last person I expected to see,” he finally answered. His eyes trailed down to her loose tunic and those taut black riding breeches that stuck to her skin like a torturous paste, outlining her splendidly long legs. “Dressed like this,” he added in a voice that sounded too strained. “And shadowing me behind a tree,” he finished with a tilt to his lips.

Heat crept into her cheeks, and he marveled at the sight.

“You should know it wasn’t my intention to shadow you. And I’d say we’re both a little surprised and…underdressed.” She momentarily glanced at his bare chest.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The idea of her blushing at his naked body was a heady rush. Smoothly rebuttoning his shirt, he smiled. “My apologies.” Though he was far from feeling sorry.

She gave a stiff nod.

“So, what brings you here, Your Majesty?”

Jovine lifted her chin. “I came to see you.”

“Is that so?” For all his bold composure, there was an underlying thread of unease squirming beneath his skin. The thought of her coming all this way to see him would have gladdened him like no other. But many people were coming to see him these days. For reasons he spurned and motives meant to goad him into action. Would she be the same?

“Spend the day with me,” she suddenly voiced, her lovely face difficult to read.

His blood rushed through his veins, startling his nerves. Amon masked his bewilderment with a crooked grin. She was as unapologetically straightforward as they came. “You sure know how to make a man speechless.”

“Is that a yes?”

As if he could ever deny her.

Before he could answer, the sound of Mrs. Rifter’s uneven footsteps echoed behind him. “Hold that thought,” he muttered, gently grasping her wrist and pulling her behind his body. She was small enough to hide.

She sharply inhaled. “W-wha—”

“Dear goodness, forgive me for the delay,” Mrs. Rifter’s husky voice called out, her hands balancing a tray of dried meats and lemon ale as she emerged from the wooden door.

He felt Jovine’s fluttering pulse thrumming against his palm. Amon tightened his grip, hoping to settle her nerves.

“Mrs. Rifter,” he intervened with a grateful smile. “Would it be alright to drink that glass of ale inside? I’d love to get out of this heat.”

About to hobble down the stairs, Mrs. Rifter looked up, slightly relieved and curious. “Yes, of course! Would you like something heartier to eat as well?”

“You're gracious for the offer, but I have a prior engagement to attend to. I’ll be in and out today.”

“Alright, then. Hurry on inside!” Giving him a toothy grin, she limped back through the doors.

A few seconds passed before Jovine slipped her wrist out of his grip — an absence that felt too cold in his empty hands.

He turned to face her. “Let me grab a change of clothes, and we can get out of here.”

She nodded, her steps already distancing herself away from the heat of his body and closer to the trunk of the tree. Just as he moved to leave, he hesitated and looked into her unreadable gaze. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The first glint of a faint smile traced across her lips. “I’ll be right here. Hiding behind a tree.” A small incredulous laugh escaped as she pondered the absurdity of the situation.

God, she was beautiful when she smiled.

“Good.” Unable to hide his elation, he practically sprinted back into the cottage.

Rushing through the small, cramped space, he inhaled the tangy ale Mrs. Rifter laid out on the dining table, thanked his benevolent host, and bolted up the stairs with a mind-numbing brain freeze. Changing out of his mud-stained slacks and sweat-stained shirt, he was still buttoning everything up as he stumbled down the stairs to Mrs. Rifter’s widened gaze.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?!” she asked, watching him trying to balance on unsteady feet as he shoved his feet into his boots.

He gave her a wide grin. “I’ve got someone waiting for me.”

Before she could probe any further, he whisked out the back door and staggered down the wobbly stairs. At the sound of his haste, Jovine peeked out from her hideout.

“I’m impressed,” she chuckled, stepping out when she noticed his panting breaths. “I’ve never met someone as eagerly ready as you.”

Amon offered her his arm. She had no idea just how eager he was for her.