I quicken my pace, then force myself to stop.
No. It’s too early to intervene.
I need more concrete proof—though frankly I already have plenty.
Still, it’s better to catch her in something undeniable, so I continue to shadow them.
They move through the district at a leisurely pace.
Lis buys her flowers.
Flowers.
I nearly choke.
That is a universal sign of courtship. There is no other explanation for flowers.
None.
Moe accepts them with delighted surprise and immediately buries her face in the bouquet to smell them. Lis watches her do it with a look so openly fond my stomach twists violently.
That is it. That is the look.Thatis the face of a woman in love.
Obsessed, even—I should know it very well.
My thoughts begin spiraling faster now, each one worse than the last.
How long has this been happening? Has Lis imagined kissing her? Touching her? Has she pictured taking her somewhere private? Teaching her things? Corrupting her?
My grip tightens so hard my knuckles ache.
No. No, I will not allow it.
Not while I still breathe.
They turn down another lane, huddled together in conversation. Lis smiles at something Moe says like every word out of her mouth is precious.
Disgusting.
My pace quickens. At this rate, if I blink for too long, Lis may attempt to marry her in the middle of the street, right under my nose.
And clearly, I am the only one taking this threat seriously.
The deeper they venture into the market, the more convinced I become that I am witnessing the early stages of a calculated seduction. There is simply no other explanation.
Why else would an immortal of her standing become interested in a mortal? Why else would she save us from the Culling when it was none of her business?
I keep watching. Lis walks too close to Moe. Her gaze lingers far too longer on her face.
No one pays that much attention to another person unless they want something from them.
Or wantthem.
Again, I have far too much experience with this brand of wanting to recognize the signs. I’ve been staring at them in the mirror daily for more than a year now.
Moe, meanwhile, remains blissfully unaware she is being hunted.
They pause at a fabric merchant, and Lis drifts behind her lifting a curtain of black silk and holding it beside Moe’s shoulder as if assessing how it would look draped over her body.
