Standing up from the dinner table was the most dangerous military maneuver Prince Aeron Valdamar had ever executed.
The Empress finally clapped her hands, signaling the end of the meal. "Well! I feel we are all much closer now! Such a warm, intimate evening."
Intimate, Kaia thought, her left hand throbbing where Aeron had crushed her fingers to stop her from completely unzipping his breeches.
Aeron did not stand immediately. He remained in his chair for three agonizing seconds after the Emperor rose. His jaw was locked so tightly a muscle ticked furiously in his cheek. He reached down, adjusting the heavy velvet of his forest-green coat, pulling the fabric forward with strategic, desperate precision.
When he finally stood, he moved with a rigid, unnatural stiffness that completely contradicted his usual liquid grace.
