The Royal Lake of Arindale was a pristine, mirror-like expanse of water that had been specifically designed to reflect the glory of the Empire. Today, however, it seemed designed solely to test the structural integrity of Prince Aeron's sanity.
"Isn't it romantic?" the Empress sighed from the dock, waving a lace handkerchief as if she were sending troops off to war. "Just the couples, the water, and the whispers of the wind! Go forth and bond!"
Kaia stepped into the small, white-painted rowboat. It wobbled alarmingly.
"Careful," Prince Beckett said, offering her a hand. His grip was gentle, his palm dry and polite. He treated her like she was made of particularly expensive glass. "The center of gravity is... elusive."
"It's a floating death trap," Kaia corrected, sitting down on the velvet cushion in the stern. She arranged her lemon-yellow skirts, trying to look like a woman in love and not a woman who was currently suppressing a scream.
Beckett took the oars. He looked at them with deep suspicion, as if they might bite him.
"Right," he muttered. "Rowing. Push... pull. Simple physics."
He dipped the oars in. The boat spun in a tight, dizzying circle to the left.
"Excellent start," Kaia noted dryly.
"It's a... calibration circle," Beckett lied, his ears turning pink. "Checking the currents."
Fifty yards away, in a boat that looked identical but moved with the predatory speed of a shark, sat Aeron and Victoria.
Aeron was not spinning in circles.
He had removed his velvet coat, leaving him in a crisp white shirt and his signature gloves. The linen strained across his shoulders with every powerful, rhythmic pull of the oars. He rowed with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency, cutting through the water as if he were trying to escape a burning building.
Victoria sat opposite him, holding a parasol perfectly upright. She looked like a figurehead on the prow of a warship.
"Your stroke is very... vigorous, Your Highness," Victoria observed, watching the muscles in his forearms flex. "We are leaving the other couples quite far behind."
"I prefer efficiency," Aeron gritted out.
He wasn't looking at Victoria. He wasn't looking at the "Island of Vows" in the center of the lake.
He was staring past Victoria's shoulder, his silver eyes locked onto the drifting, spinning boat behind them.
He watched Beckett lean forward to say something to Kaia. He watched Kaia throw her head back and laugh—a genuine, bright sound that carried across the water.
Aeron's grip on the oars tightened until the wood groaned.
Why is she laughing?
She never laughed with him. With him, she gasped. She argued. She glared. She made sounds that belonged in the dark. But she didn't laugh.
"Prince Aeron?" Victoria prompted. "You are scowling. It frightens the swans."
"The sun is bright," Aeron lied. He dug the oars into the water and pulled, propelling them forward with a surge of speed that made Victoria clutch her hat.
"Stop, stop!" Kaia gasped, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Beckett, please, we are going to hit a duck."
"The duck is being unreasonable," Beckett argued, wrestling with the left oar. "It refuses to yield the right of way. I am a Prince of the Realm. Surely that holds some sway with waterfowl."
"I think the duck is a republican," Kaia said.
She liked Beckett. She really did. He was funny in a quiet, unintentional way. He was safe. Being with him was like wearing a comfortable pair of wool socks.
But looking at him didn't make her blood run hot. It didn't make her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The other boat was cutting toward them. Aeron was rowing with a focused intensity that was frankly alarming. As he drew closer, she could see the sheen of sweat on his neck, the way his shirt clung to his chest.
He looked lethal.
"Oh, good," Beckett said, relaxing his oars. "My brother is coming to rescue us. Or perhaps run us down. With Aeron, it is 50/50."
Aeron's boat pulled alongside theirs, his oars slicing the water to bring them to a halt with expert precision. The boats bobbed gently in each other's wake, dangerously close.
"Having trouble?" Aeron asked.
His voice was polite. His eyes were murderous.
"Just enjoying the scenery, brother," Beckett smiled. "Lady Kaia and I were discussing the political leanings of the local wildlife."
Aeron ignored him. His gaze shifted to Kaia. He looked at her flushed cheeks, her smiling mouth. He looked at the way she was leaning toward Beckett.
"You look warm, Lady Kaia," Aeron murmured. "Perhaps you should remove your gloves. The heat can be... stifling."
It was a trap. The "Chastity Mandate" forbade it.
"I am perfectly comfortable, Your Highness," Kaia said, her smile turning sharp. "Prince Beckett keeps me entertained. The heat is... manageable."
Aeron's jaw ticked.
"Is that so?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his oars. The movement brought him within inches of Kaia's boat. "Beckett is known for his... gentle conversation. I suppose some prefer that to excitement."
"Excitement is exhausting," Victoria interjected coolly from the other end of the boat. "Stability is the foundation of the Empire. Aeron, we should continue to the Island. The Empress is watching through a telescope."
"Let her watch," Aeron said, not breaking eye contact with Kaia.
He reached out.
For a second, Kaia thought he was going to touch her. Panic and desire spiked in her chest.
But he didn't. He reached past her and grabbed the edge of Beckett's boat, stabilizing it with one strong, gloved hand.
"You're drifting, brother," Aeron said softly. "You need to keep a firmer grip on your... vessel. Or someone else might take the helm."
The double entendre was so heavy it nearly capsized the boat.
Beckett blinked, missing it entirely. "Thank you, Aeron. Very helpful."
Aeron stared at Kaia. His thumb brushed against the wood of her boat, just inches from her knee. He tapped the wood once—a rhythmic, deliberate tap.
Kaia's breath hitched. Her thighs clenched instinctively beneath the yellow silk.
He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was reminding her who really held the oars.
"We will see you at the Island," Aeron said, his voice dropping to a velvety purr. "Do try to catch up."
He pushed off. With a powerful stroke, he sent his boat surging ahead, leaving Kaia and Beckett bobbing in his wake.
"He is very competitive," Beckett noted, dipping his oars back in. "It must be tiring, being that perfect all the time."
Kaia watched Aeron's broad back, the way his muscles moved under the linen shirt.
"He isn't perfect, Beckett," she whispered, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "He's just very, very good at pretending."