“I never wanted to be king. But it is what I am. It matters little what we want,” he repeated. I turned and stared up into his face, filled with an anguish that wouldn’t abate. You’re wrong. It is the thing that matters most. “Why?” he murmured, his eyes intense. Because without desire, there is only duty. My lips trembled, and I bit down on them, bidding them to be still. He pressed a thumb against my mouth, freeing my lower lip from the grip of my teeth. “Do you desire me?”
