‘You’re no hero,’ I breathe. ‘You’re nothing but a coward.’
Cole steps closer. ‘What did you say to me?’
‘You’re a coward,’ I repeat. ‘Just as you were in the first trial, just as you are now, just as I suspect you’ve always been. And I feelsorryfor you.’
He grips the back of my neck. ‘I’ll burn you,’ he hisses. ‘Just watch me. I willburn youuntil you are nothing but ashes in my hands.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ says a voice from behind him.
Cole whips round. There’s the sound of a fist hitting flesh, the sickening crunch of bone, and suddenly Cole is on the ground, crying out in pain. The fire surrounding me vanishes, receding into the earth, leaving nothing but smoke in its place. But the newcomer isn’t finished. He reaches down and yanks Cole to his feet. Cole barely has time to try to stumble backwards before he’s sent flying by the force of another blow. He shudders, spitting out mouthfuls of dirt and blood, one arm raised in surrender.
I blink up at my rescuer, eyes straining through the smoke-filled gloom. Tall, dark hair, golden doublet, a mask shaped like a raven’s wings obscuring half his face.
Hal.
He takes my hand and pulls me away round corner after corner until we reach a large clearing shaped like an eye – the centre of the maze.
Hal is panting. I am shaking. He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t get to hear whatever it is he’s about to say, because before the little voice of reason inside my head can begin to talk me out of it, I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.
It seems to take him by surprise. He tenses up as my arms snake round his neck. For a long moment, he’scompletely still, as though deciding whether or not to reciprocate.
Then, it’s as if he melts. He kisses me back. Hesitantly at first, then hungrily.
The kiss.
It’s better than before. Better than I could have imagined.
Every nerve ending in my body is alive with it. Stars are born and burn and light up the sky with it.
It’s feverish, all-consuming, charged with a delicious sense of daring. It feels like a secret whispered in the dead of night. It feels like diving down deep into the ocean on a single breath. It feels like falling. But then his arms slide round me, catching me, holding me close. His gloved hands graze my back, my waist, the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling themselves in my hair. Thoughts are drowned by sensation as I allow my own hands to roam, tracing the sculpted lines of his chest, all grooves and ridges and hardened muscle.
He brushes a thumb along my jawline, angling my face the way he wants it, tilting my head back for better access to my mouth before slowly slipping his tongue inside. My stomach tumbles as it begins to explore, sweeping gently over mine. He tastes like wine and green apples and something herbal, cool and fresh, a little sweet.
Emboldened, I press closer, then closer still, my own tongue sliding experimentally against his. He groans softly into my mouth and I shiver.
Then he’s effortlessly lifting me up into his arms, pressing me backwards into the thick hedge surrounding us. But I can barely feel it – all I feel is him. Every point of contact. My arms round his neck. My legs round his waist.
He grips me tighter, trailing soft kisses down my throat and along my collarbone. I cling to him, arching my back as his eyelashes brush against my jaw.
I’ve never felt anything like this before – the headrush, the heat. He saved me from Cole’s fire, and yet my whole body is burning, every inch of my skin electrified by his touch.
He draws back slightly, as though about to say something, but I just reel him closer. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want this to end. I want to freeze time, immortalize this moment, and relive it over and over.
I gasp as he tugs my lower lip between his teeth, drawing a spark of pain, and I feel him smiling against my mouth as I respond by digging my nails into his back.
He kisses me until my lips are swollen and my heart is pounding and my body is molten and boneless and trembling.
When at last we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Reluctantly, he relaxes his grip, letting me slide slowly down to the ground.
With my hands still curled into fists upon his chest, I look up into his eyes.
His green eyes.
Green as leaves in springtime.
His mask falls to the ground and I realize then that the wings are not those of the Castellion raven, but of the Calloway falcon. I jerk backwards, horrified.
Fox rakes a hand through his hair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘That’s certainly one way to thank me.’
