Page 49 of Wicked Endeavors

“We just need to be patient.” Marisol squeezed his arm. “We’re so close.”

Still, she understood his frustration. It took seconds for something to break. It took ages for it to be restored, and it was never quite the same again. They both wanted change, but, no matter how hard they worked, that change would come slowly. Even once they had the plants, they still had to brew the potions. Even once they brewed the potions, they still had to engineer the antidotes. Even once they engineered the antidotes, they still had to trick the witches into taking them.

And even once magic was gone, they still had to rebuild a society that had been designed to empower only those who had it.

Marisol knew that they were moving as fast as they could, but it would never be fast enough. Every second, welks were hurting.

“I brought one of those pamphlets home, and I read all of it. It… was eye-opening.” Teo sighed as his hands fell to his sides. “So much of society seems to be designed for inequality. Money. Class. Magic. Education. Some are a privilege of birth, and some are a privilege of time, but having just one can make your life so much better than someone who doesn’t.”

“You can’t rid the world of inequality, Teo.”

“Alone, no. But imagine what the world could be if we all tried.”

Marisol didn’t want to imagine it, because it would mean acknowledging that Tomás Castellan was nothing like she’d thought he’d be when she first saw him in the city center. That he was kind and egalitarian, fair and capable. That he was better than any boy she’d ever met—and that she genuinely believed he could change the world, even if he had to do it alone.

It was a thought that had plagued her in all her quiet moments, when she could snuff it out like a candle to do what she needed to do. Now it rang through her head, daring her to face it, daring her to do something with the fact that she liked the prince so much more than she had planned.

“We should go back,” she said instead. “Preferably before Noelia comes looking for us. I don’t think I can explain missing the washroom on two separate visits.”

Teo huffed out a laugh, allowing himself to be led toward the door. He still looked haunted by something, but whatever was going on in his head seemed content to stay in there. Marisol got the sense that something heavier than the Criterion rally was rattling around in there, but this was neither the place nor the time to talk.

Then the prince stopped so abruptly that Marisol walked into his back.

“There’s someone coming,” he whispered.

“What?”

Panic made her body go cold. It was too soon. If they were caught, everything would be ruined.

“I think they’re coming this way.”

They needed a plausible lie. Something that no one would think too hard about. The doorknob was turning, and Teo took a step back. She couldn’t see his expression, but she imagined that he was hiding his panic better than she was as he prepared to give the performance of his life. She could leave it to him and his charm—but charm could only get him so far. It was too big a risk to trust that he had a convincing falsehood ready. This required more than deception. This required deflection of the highest degree.

Suddenly, she knew what they had to do.

“Can I kiss you?”

Teo turned to face her. “What?” And then: “Of course you can.”

She pulled him closer, their lips colliding just as someone appeared behind him.

Their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces. His hands curled around her hips, thumb tracing fiery patterns over her skin through her dress, and his mouth was hot as his lips parted against hers. She managed to hold on to the thread of her plan—but barely. Teo kissed her as if he’d been doing it for years, sending a gradual wave of heat through her that threatened to scatter her thoughts.

The plan, the plan, she thought in time to the fluttering thump of her pulse. We’re in danger.

But as she arched against him, her fingers digging into his curls, it felt as if she was the one who was in danger.

“It’s the prince and his fiancée. They’re, um. They’re—”

Part of Marisol had hoped that kissing him would be enough to rid her of this annoying attraction, but she had underestimated her powerful reaction to him. To his smiles and his hands and his scent. She hadn’t planned for things to go this far. She hadn’t planned to kiss him at all before she killed him. But Teo Castellan had laid waste to her inhibitions, and now here he was, making her want.

It couldn’t last, and yet she didn’t want it to end.

He sucked in a sharp breath and then his tongue dipped between her parted lips. The sound she made into his mouth was embarrassingly close to a whimper.

But there was something off about the way he angled his head, the way he sank against her, the way he coaxed her into a deeper kiss that had her toes curling in her shoes. He didn’t kiss her like someone who was proficient in kissing; he kissed her like someone who never wanted to stop—earnest and natural and sloppy and eager.

Somehow, that just made it better.