Just A Kiss

My lips nor my tongue moved.

"Then I'll have to continue calling you Princess." His eyes were much friendlier now, and I wanted to see if the pain had lessened but managed to resist. I guessed that maybe his pain had gone away. If so…

"The least you can do is tell me why you didn't stop me," he said before I could yield to the curiosity and reach out with my senses.

I had no inkling how I could answer that when I didn't entirely comprehend it myself.

One side of his lips quirked up.

"I'm sure it's more than my disarming nice looks."

I furrowed my nose. "Of course."

Another short, surprised-sounding laugh left him.

"I feel you just insulted me."

Chagrined, I flinched.

"That's not what I meant—"

"You've wounded me, Princess."

"I highly dispute that. You have to be more than well conscious of your appearance."

"I am. It has led to quite a few people making controversial life choices."

"Then why did you say you were insulted—?"

Realizing he was teasing me and feeling dumb for not perceiving that right away, I pushed at his chest once more.

"You're still lying to me."

"I know."

I seized a breath.

"It's rather rude of you to go on doing so when I've made it obvious that I would like for you to move."

"It's rather rude of you to barge into my room dressed as—"

"Your lover?"

He lifted a brow. "I wouldn't call her that."

"What would you call her?"

Flinch seemed to ponder that over while still stretched halfway across me.

"A…good friend."

A portion of me was relieved that he hadn't referred to her as something derogatory like I'd overheard other men do before when speaking of women they had been intimate with, but a good friend?

"I didn't know friends behaved this way."

"I'm ready to bet you don't know much about these sorts of things."

The reality in his statement was difficult to ignore. "And you bet all of this on just one kiss?"

"Just one kiss? Princess, you can discover a wealth of things from just one kiss."

Gazing at him, I couldn't help but feel…very inexperienced. The sole thing I could tell from his kiss was what it had made me feel. Like he was craving to possess me.

"Why didn't you stop me?" His stare sailed over the mask and then downward, to where I realized the cloak had split up, exposing the too-thin gown and its somewhat daring neckline.

Frankly, I didn't know what I had been imagining when I slid on the garment. It was practically like I had subconsciously been preparing myself for…something. My stomach tumbled. More likely, the gown was false bravado.

Flinch's gaze found mine. "I think I'm starting to understand."

"Does that indicate you're going to get up so I can move?"

Why haven't you made him get up? whimpered that silly, very reasonable, and particularly logical voice.

That was a wonderful question. I knew how to use a man's strength against them. More importantly, I had my dagger and access to it.

But I hadn't reached for it, nor had I attempted to establish space between us.

What did that signify? I…I assumed I felt safe. At least, at the moment. I may know relatively little about Flinch, but he wasn't a stranger, at least he didn't feel that way to me, and I wasn't scared of him.

Flinch twitched his head.

"I have a theory."

"I'm waiting with bated breath for this."

That dimple in his right cheek arose once more.

"I think you came to this particular room with an intention in mind."

He was right about that, but I disputed he would be right about the real reason.

"It is why you did not talk or try to correct my supposition of who you were. Probably the cloak you borrowed was also a very conscious verdict," he continued.

"You came here because you need something from me."

I began to deny what he insinuated, but no words rose to the tip of my tongue. The silence was not a denial or agreement, but my stomach scooped again.

He moved ever so slightly, his hand coming to rest against my right cheek, his fingers splayed out. "I am right, aren't I, Princess?"

Heart skipping all over the place, I attempted to gulp, but my throat had dried.

"Maybe…maybe I came here for…for conversation."

"To talk?" His brows rose.

"About what?"

"Lots of stuff," I said.

His mood smoothed out. "Like?"

My mind was uselessly empty for many seconds, and then I dished the initial thing that came to mind.

"Why did you decide to work on the Rise?"

"You came here tonight to ask that?"

Not a single thing about his tone or his look said he believed me, but I nodded while I augmented that this was yet another example of how I was absolutely bad at making conversation with people.

He was calm and then said, "I joined the Rise for the same reason most do."

"And what is that?" I inquired, even though I knew most of the reasons.

"My father was a farmer, and that was not the life for me. There are not several other opportunities offered than joining the Royal Army and defending the Rise, Princess."

"You are right."

His eyes receded as surprise flashed across his features.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, there are not many chances for children to become something different from what their parents were."

"You mean there are not considerable chances for children to strengthen their levels in life, to do better than those who came before them?"

I nodded as best I could. "The…the natural order of things does not precisely allow that. A farmer's son is a farmer or they.."

"They choose to become a guard, where they stake their lives for stable pay that they most likely would not live long enough to enjoy?" he finished.

"Doesn't sound much like a choice, does it?"

"No," I conceded, but I had already thought that. There were jobs Flinch could have strived for. Hunter and trader, but they too were risky, as they required going outside the Rise often. It just was not as risky as joining the Royal Army, and going to the Rise.

Was the basis of his anguish privilege to what he had discovered as a guard? "There might not be many choices, but I nevertheless think no, I know that joining the guard needs a particular level of innate courage and strength."

"Have you thought of all the guards? That they are courageous?"

"Yes, I do."

"Not all patrols are nice men, my Princess."

My eyes faded. "I know that Strength and bravery are not equivalent to goodness."

"We can concur on that." His gape dropped to my mouth, and my chest felt inexplicably tight.

"You said your father was a farmer. Is he…has he gone to the gods?"

Something wriggled across his face, gone too quickly for me to interpret.

"Nope. He is alive and well. Yours?"

I gave a small shake of my head. "My father, both of my parents are gone."

"I am sorry to hear that, "he said, and it sounded genuine.

"The loss of a parent or a family member lingers long after they are gone, the pain decreasing but never fading. Years later, you will still find yourself thinking that you had done anything to get them back."

He was right, and I thought that this was maybe the origin of the pain he felt.

"You sound like you know firsthand."

"I do."

I thought of Nathan. Had Flinch known him well? Most of the guards were close, creating a bond thicker than blood, but even if he had not known Nathan, there were surely others he knew that had been lost.

"I am sorry," I said.

"I am sorry for whoever it is that you have lost. Death is…"

Death was constant.

And I saw a lot of it. I was not supposed to, as sheltered as I was, but I saw death all too repeatedly.

His head tilted, sending a spill of dark locks over his forehead. "Death is like an old friend who comes for a visit, sometimes when it is slightly expected and most times when you are waiting for her.

It is neither the first nor the last time she will visit, but that does not make any death less intense or unforgiving."

Sadness coerced me to take up residence in my chest, crowding out the warmth. "That it is."

He dipped his head unexpectedly, his lips nearing mine.

"I doubt the need for a conversation led you to this room. You did not come here to talk about sad things that cannot be changed, Princess."

I knew why I came here tonight, and Flinch was right, yet again. It was not to talk. I came here to live. To experience. To choose. To be anyone other than who I was. None of those things comprised talking.

But I had had my initial kiss this night. I could stop there or tonight would be a night of many firsts, all of my choosing.

Was I? Was I contemplating this, whatsoever this was? Gods, I certainly was. Tiny tremors cradled me. Could he feel them?

They stacked in my stomach, forming tiny knots of fear and anxiety.

I was the Chosen, the Maiden. My first convictions about what the gods concerned themselves with weakened.

Would they find me unfit? Panic did not seize me as it should. Instead, a spark of hope did, and that disturbed me more than anything.

The tiny glimmer of hope felt traitorous and completely concerning, given that being deemed unworthy resulted in one of the most serious consequences.

If I were to be found unworthy, I had to face actual death.

I had been exiled from the kingdom.