“I commissioned Mr. Sanford in AR-5 to design and build the framework. But I did all the painting myself.” She was pleased to see Jacin’s impressed nod. “I hoped you might be able to help me with Saturn. It’s the last one to be painted, and I thought—I’ll take the rings, if you want to do the planet…” She trailed off. His expression had hardened again. Following his fingers, she saw him batting Luna around the Earth—the way Mr. Sanford had given Luna its own little orbit around the blue planet was nothing short of brilliant, in Winter’s opinion.
“I’m sorry, Highness,” said Jacin, standing upright again. “I’m on duty. I shouldn’t even be in here, and you know that.”
“I’m quite sure I don’t know that. It seems you can guard me even better from in here than out there. What if someone comes in through the windows?”
His lips quirked into a wry smile. No one was going to come in through the windows, they both knew, but he didn’t argue the point. Instead, he stepped closer and settled his hands on her shoulders. It was a rare, unexpected touch. Not quite the Eclipse Waltz, but her skin tingled all the same.
“I’m glad to be on your guard now,” he said. “I would do anything for you. If you did have an assassin under your bed, I would take that bullet without a second thought, without anyone having to manipulate me.”
She tried to interrupt him, but he talked over her.
“But when I’m on duty, that’s all I can be. Your guard. Not your friend. Levana already knows I’m too close to you, that I care about you more than I should—”
Her brow drew together, and again she tried to interject, thinking that statement deserved further explanation, but he kept talking.
“—and I am not going to give her anything else to hold over me. Or you. I’m not going to be another pawn in her game. Got it?”
Finally, a pause, and her head was swimming, trying to hold on to his declaration—what do you mean you care about me more than you should?—without contradicting his concerns.
“We are already pawns in her game,” she said. “I have been a pawn in her game since the day she married my father, and you since the day you were conscripted into her guard.”
His lips tensed and he moved to pull his hands away, the extended contact overstepping a thousand of his professional boundaries, but Winter reached up and wrapped her hands around his. She held them tight, bundling both of their hands between them.
“I just thought…” She hesitated, her attention caught on how much bigger his hands were compared with the last time she’d held them. It was a startling realization. “I thought it might be nice to step off the game board every now and then.”
One of Jacin’s thumbs rubbed against her fingers—just once, like a tic that had to be stifled.
“That would be nice,” he said, “but it can’t be while I’m on duty, and it really can’t be behind closed doors.”
Winter glanced past him, at the door she’d shut when he’d come in to check for a fictional assassin. “You’re saying that I’m going to see you every day, but I have to go on pretending like I don’t see you at all?”
He pried his hands away. “Something like that. I’m sorry, Princess.” With a step back, he morphed seamlessly into the stoic guard. “I’ll be in the corridor if you need me. Really need me.”
After he’d gone, Winter stood gnawing at her lower lip, unable to ignore the momentary bits of elation that had slipped into the cracks of an otherwise disappointing meeting.
I care about you more than I should.
“Fine,” she murmured to herself. “I can work with that.”
She gathered up the little compact of paints, a few paintbrushes, and the fist-size model of Saturn waiting for its kaleidoscope of rings.
This time, Jacin started a little when she emerged in the corridor. The first time he’d been expecting her, but this must have been a surprise. She bit back a grin as she walked around to his other side and slid down the wall, planting herself on the floor next to him with crisscrossed legs. Humming to herself, she spread her painting supplies out before her.
“What are you doing?” Jacin muttered beneath his breath, though the hallway was empty.
Winter pretended to jump. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, peering up at him. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you there.”
He scowled.
Winking, she turned her attention back to her work, dipping a paintbrush into rich cerulean blue.
Jacin said nothing else. Neither did she. After the first ring was completed, she leaned her head against his thigh, making herself more comfortable as she picked out a sunburst orange. Overhead, Jacin sighed, and she felt the faintest brush of fingertips against her hair. A hint, a suggestion of togetherness, before he became a statue once more.
Nine
“Evaporated milk … kidney beans … tuna … more tuna … oh!” Cress nearly toppled headfirst into the crate as she reached for the bottom. She grabbed a jar and emerged victorious. “Pickled asparagus!”
Iko stopped digging through the crate beside her long enough to shoot her a glare. “You and your taste buds can stop bragging anytime now.”
“Oh, sorry.” Pressing her lips, Cress set the jar on the floor. “Good thing we opened this one. The galley was starting to look pretty scarce.”
“More weapons in here,” said Wolf, his shoulders knotted as he leaned over another one of the crates. “For a planet that’s seen a century of world peace, you manufacture a lot of guns.”