Before he could disappear inside, Roa reached for him, pulling him back, remembering the shape of her name in his shaky handwriting.
“Dax...”
He looked down at her.
Roa’s cheeks burned. What was she doing?
Dax must have known. Because he touched her, his eyes searching hers, and leaned in.
Before she could think twice about it, Roa pushed up on her toes and kissed him.
It was clumsy and short—more of a bump than a kiss—but for a moment, with his lips warm and soft against hers, Roa thought she felt the hum flare up inside her.
Except... no.
This was something else.
When he stepped back, Dax smiled the shyest smile she’d ever seen.
A sound from down the hall made them step away from each other. But no one was there. No one had seen. Still, Roa gave him a gentle push toward his door, then turned away, leaving him behind.
She glanced back once to find him staring after her, still smiling.
Roa looked away, smiling, too.
It would be the last time either of them smiled for a very long time.
Thirteen
Meet me at moonrise.
Roa folded Theo’s message—a response to the one she’d sent after the council meeting.
She held the parchment in her hand as she paced her rooms, reading the directions to the guesthouse he was staying in, then glancing out through her terrace archway. When the moon’s white halo could be seen just beyond the palace rooftop, Roa opened her doors and stepped out into the hall.
“My queen?” came the voice of one of her guards, a young man named Sirin with blue eyes; straight teeth; and a tall, lean stature. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I can’t sleep,” she said, already trotting down the hall. “I want to go for a walk. In the city.”
She wore an unadorned dress made of gray wool and her sandskarf was pulled up over her head.
Her guards followed her.
Guards.Roa hated the very concept of them. They were like armed shadows, following her everywhere, never leaving her alone.
There was no scrubland equivalent because there was no need for a scrublander to have a guard. It was why Roa hadn’t taken these, from the palace, with her back home. It was why Dax’s guards disarmed themselves and were given their own rooms in the House of Song—because the king knew it was an insult to bring an armed guard into the home of a scrublander. It meant you didn’t trust him.
“My queen...”
Roa squeezed her hands into fists. Composing herself, she halted, then turned. “Yes, Sirin?”
“The palace gates are shut and locked at night. You need special permission to open them.”
Roa raised an eyebrow. “Am I not queen? DoIneed permission to come and go as I please?”
The guards exchanged nervous glances.
“They’re Safire’s orders,” said the guard beyond Sirin—a man with light brown eyes and graying hair.
