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“I never thought it would be murder and rivalry that got us to familiarity. But then that is part of the game, too, is it not?”

“It’s one I would rather not be playing,” Taren said.

“Really? You are rather good at it, you know. Well, you are good at playing with what you have.”

She winked at him.

Taren sighed.

“I cannot lie and tell you that you are not an expert at using what you have,” he said.

“Now there really is the complement of the night,” Roisin said. “Rumor is you are never really interested in anyone. Now here I am being told I am the master of all the things that interest wayward souls at court.”

“That’s reading into what I said a little,” Taren said, laughing a little under his breath.

“You are accusing the Princess of murder, and then in the same breath saying that I read into things.” Roisin drank her wine in one long swallow, then tossed her cup over the railing. “So, I am warned. Now I expect you are to offer me a solution to the warning?”

“Namerobbing, of course.”

Roisin chuckled.

“Oh but that does mean we are back to this rivalry, of there being only one winner and one throne at the end. You propose I remove myself from this because, what, you are the one who can keep her under control? Taren, now I know you as such, I cannot help but disagree.” Roisin moved one of her hands to Taren’s cheek and ran her fingers through the youthful beard still just sprouting there. He remained outwardly impassive to her touch, though neither missed the heat climbing up into his cheeks. “She can and will be mine because it is as I’ve said, she is so deliciously weak to the kind of things I can offer her that you, just now, seem unable to. She will want nothing more than to remain by my side, in my bed, in my arms, and in whatever position I deign her to be in because she is like every one of the others I know. She is someone who will melt to my touch, my will, my mere presence because they are everything they try to tell you about Codoren wine.” Roisin leaned in, laughing a little as Taren pulled away. “I am dark, and rich, and soft, and so secretively intoxicating, Taren Nessca. I am this way because I have to be, because it’s what others want of me, because it’s what they taught me to be and it’s what keeps me alive. Now you now, and you should know what it tastes like before she is mine and I am hers. And she will be mine.” Roisin slid her hand town Taren’s face, his neck, and let it settle on his chest. She smirked at the. quick beating heart she felt underneath. “By the end of her little festival in the mountains, I will be all she wants of anything in the world. She will be so drunk on me she will barely notice her name sliding into my hands. Can you say the same? Will you regret not knowing what she will experience before it is hers and hers alone? Or are you afraid that if you say yes, right here and right now, that you’ll have lost. That’s okay. I can only tell you that everyone else who has ever lost to me has never complained. You won’t either, whether it’s here or whether it comes as you sitting in the throne room below and hearing them proclaim the reign of Madelen Kyera.” Roisin removed her hand and laced her fingers together behind her back. “Are you so confident now that you’re really a rival to me?”