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I spy the beginnings of a smile, but whatever spell we’ve been under is broken by the creak of the door opening.
Maxim enters, then pauses as his eyes flit between us, his expression half curious, half concerned. “Should I be worried?”
“Don’t be absurd, Max,” Kallias replies smoothly.
“Well, I’ve managed to track down the families of two of the names on the list,” he begins, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of what he’s about to say. “Neither has seen them in weeks.”
“So the list could be nothing more than my father keeping recent reports of missing citizens,” Kallias says.
The three of us exchange glances, the unspoken doubt palpable.
Maxim continues, “The two families I visited were both lower class. Only one of them had filed a report. The other…” He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “The other family assumed their son had run away. They thought he’d left in the hopes of finding something better.”
A chill creeps over my skin, raising the fine hairs on my arms.
Left in the hopes of finding something better.
The phrase is a haunting mirror of what Thena had said about Espris.
Kallias’s frown deepens, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. “Keep looking into it.”
Maxim nods then pulls something from his pocket. “Also, this arrived this morning.”
My heart skips a beat as he waves what appears to be parchment folded into the shape of a flower. The edges curl like petals, and the paper smells of clove and lavender.
Kallias and I both stand, leaning close as Maxim unfolds it, and I frown at the words revealed.
My Wildest Flower,
What grows in silence is not forgetfulness, but obsession.
I’ve traced your absence across land and sky,
searched every song for your breath between the notes.
Meet me where the Lady spills her soul in music,
where her voice unravels the dusk.
When the moon swells full, I’ll find you there.
Bring your shadows. I will bring mine.
—Your Devoted Night
I lean in to read it again, but clouds slide across the moon, snuffing out its fragile light. I mutter a curse under my breath, only for a heartbeat later to see light bloom above the note. I gape at the small flame dancing in the prince’s hand.
I always knew he possessed theïkós—it runs in his blood—but I didn’t know it would look like this.
The glow ripples across his face, softening the sharpness, brushing light across a mouth I shouldn’t be watching this closely.
His lips curl into a smirk.
“Oh, I have plenty of surprises up my sleeve, Poison. Care to find out?”
Keep playing with fire, Songbird. Just don’t expect me to feel sorry when you burn.
A shiver trembles down my spine as the words he said in the palace gardens reframe themselves. A taunt twisting into a promise. I force myself to look away from him, shifting my focus back to the note. Silently, I thank the gods for the darkness concealing the warmth spreading across my cheeks. Not that it matters—I’d blame it on the fire, anyway.
