“It’s kept him alive.”
“That it has. Barring girls coming at him with pokers.”
“Intruder,” I murmured. Then silence fell, heavy and awkward.
“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” I finally said. “So you can quit sulking.” I’d only told the truth; he didn’t have to like it, but it wouldn’t change anything.
“Princes don’t sulk. And you don’t need to apologize for anything.”
His voice was soft, earnest, and it evaporated the tension. But it put something much more dangerous between us—a different kind of intimacy.
“You were angry. You called me ridiculously stubborn.”
“And I won’t apologize for that. You are stubborn.”
“Appropriatelystubborn.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I like who you are, even if you’re convinced we’re impossible.”
I looked sharply up at him. “You cannot like me.”
“And you cannot give me orders. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better to leave certain things unsaid.” But he didn’t need words. Not when his eyes were intensely focused on me, when they spoke of need and desire, and, even if they echoed my own feelings, I couldn’t give voice to them, either. So we stood together in the crackling silence, with the quiet stone and sparking flames and unspoken things.
“This is a nice room,” I said when the tension began to make me itchy. “No dead animals.”
“I agree. These are my private rooms.”
“Your—” I snapped my gaze back to him. “Your private rooms? You told me not to come in here.”
“And you planned to obey? Miracle of miracles.”
“I don’t ‘obey.’ We made a deal, and I was living up to my side of the bargain. Well, until now.”
“It’s not a breach of the bargain if I invite you in.” He cocked his head. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? You look a bit pale.”
“I don’t need a drink.” I also didn’t need to be in the prince’s rooms. I didn’t need to see them, to learn where he slept, the shape of his bed, the objects he surrounded himself with.
None of that was my damned business.
“I think it’s time for bed,” I said, walking toward the door. “My bed. In my room.”
“Good night, Little Fox,” he said behind me, and I could hear the smile in his voice. And I thought of that damned smile all the way back.
Twenty-two
Imanaged to get the dress off without ripping it to shreds, and finally had enough of an appetite to eat the plate of cold roasted bird and sweet brown bread left on the table. I’d spent more time with sweetwine (and checking out the servingware) than nibbling the party food.
When I’d put the tray outside and washed up, I sat down on the bed to wait. I knew she was on her way. I could feel it, as if her mere presence in the realm was a beacon I could detect. Maybe the Aetheric practitioner hadn’t only hurt me. Maybe he’d made me differently strong.
A flash of light, and she appeared in the middle of the room, barely visible. Her body was a bare flicker, the last light of a dying candle.
“Luna!” I said, and rushed toward her. I reached out instinctively for her arm, even though I knew I’d touch nothing but heat. And even that was weak.
“What’s happened? Did the practitioner do this?” I sworethen and there that if I lost her, if he took her from me, from Wren, I would kill him for that alone.
“A war. The god. Trying to free him.” She looked up at me, and there was devastation in her eyes. “I need your help.”
“Of course. Anything. Tell me what to do.”
