Peter caught the mug, set both of them on the closest corner of table, caught astonished hands in his. “I thought you didn’t. I thought you couldn’t. Someone so ordinary—”
“Nothing you do is ordinary!” Nerein said, and all at once they were holding hands and laughing, holding hands and holding on to each other, under the dance of fire and the skip of rain. “I kept wanting more. More of you. More time with you. I thought it must be magic, and then I thought it wasn’t. But it is. You are.”
“I’m fairly certain,” Peter told him, “I’ve been falling in love with you this whole time,” and leaned forward, nearly a kiss. “I’m not sure about the etiquette here, being that you’re a prince and all—”
“Only technically!”
“But I’m thinking I’d love to kiss you. If you’d like that.”
Nerein stared at him, said, “I want everythingwith you,” and dove forward.
The kiss landed clumsy, laughing, sudden and unpracticed. It was the best kiss of Peter’s life.