“Better.” There’s an unspoken question lingering like smoke between us. I tuck my hair behind my ears, awkward. “So . . . that was a really good apology.”
(Was Isignificantlydistracted for most of it? Yes. Am I mulling over the viability ofyou have to take the other stocking off now, for symmetryas a compelling argument? Also yes.)
There’s a jolt in my stomach as Emeric presses his lips into a pained smile. “May it be the last I owe you.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I walk over to the vanity to pick up the mugs I left there. “Which of us do you think Adalbrecht’s going to try to kill tonight?”
Emeric flinches.
I instantly know why. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”
He waves it off, blinking rapidly. “Not . . . your fault. He’ll probably come after me. But you should be safe with Ragne, once she returns.” He sees my chagrin. “How long will she be out?”
I shrug awkwardly. “She, uh, wanted to go see a sweetheart. I didn’t ask.”
“That’s not ideal.” He looks away, troubled. “Still, the castlekobold—”
“Poldi.”
“Poldi,” he amends, “should be enough. Though if the margrave can murder a trained prefect, I’m not sure what else he’s capable of.”
Poldi himself pops his head out of the logs, looking between Emeric and me. “Can’t watch both your rooms,” he crackles apologetically. “Not at the same time.”
“Then I can wait for Ragne,” I say.
“No—” Emeric runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not letting him get anyone else.” A strained beat passes. “I . . . suppose I could try to stay on watch until Ragne gets back.”
I look at the empty mugs, then at the deck of cards on my vanity, and come to a decision.
I’ve spent most of my life starving for independence. For freedom from Death and Fortune, from reliance on scraps the von Falbirgs tossed me, from the memory of a dwindling lantern in midwinter.
But I’m learning the bitter difference between independence and self-exile. We both have poison to bleed out.
And neither of us wants to be alone tonight.
“Or,” I say, passing Emeric a mug, “you could just . . . stay.” He freezes in the middle of taking the mug from me, and I realize how that sounded. “Not like that! I mean until Ragne gets back!”
“Of course,” he sputters, “I would never—I mean—”
“Careful, you’re going to sprain your dignity.” I’m alittlemiffed at how swiftly he slammed that door shut, even if I didn’t mean to crack it open. I return to the fireplace and settle cross-legged on the carpet, setting my mug on the hearth ledge.
“Just—if that’s what you want.” If Emeric grips the mug any tighter, it might shatter.
“I do want. I have an idea.” I lean forward and pat the carpet a modest distance away. “We were never going to trust each other, right? You’re a walking morality lecture with something to prove, and I’m a scoundrel with an unflinching sense of entitlement to other people’s property.”
Emeric sits across from me in a meticulous knot of limbs, his mouth twisting. “Reasonably accurate.”
“We can’t afford that anymore. What Adalbrecht did today worked because we don’t know each other, and I’m sure it won’t be the last time he tries it. So we’re going to play Find the Lady.” I pull out the Queen of Roses, the Knight of Shields, and the Page of Grails. “You pick the queen, you get to ask me a question, and I have to give you an honest answer. You pick the knight, and I get to ask you.”
“And the page?”
I grab a scarf and use it to pull the wine away from the fire. “We drink. Even if this didn’t have junk in it to help with the witch-ash, I’m guessing we both need it.”
Emeric blows out a breath. “Yes, I think we do. All right.”
I fill the mugs, and as he picks his up, I see his hands are shaking almost as much as mine. Well, I can start things off on a lighter foot. I tap my mug to his. “Proszit.”
“Prozt,” he returns.
