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My shock is overwhelmed by the heat flooding through my veins, headier than any wine. This is not the bashful first kiss I imagined having, no small act to sate my curiosity; this is a taunt answered. Our feud turned physical. And I learn quickly—
I want him, too.
I don’t know how to be soft. I barely believe in love. But I am the worst thing in Cyrus’s life and nothing has tasted sweeter.
Gasping in his ragged breath, I search for something to hold and only find his shirt. His fingers sprawl on my chin, parting my lips, and he kisses me harder. His grip is too strong. I nearly bite his tongue off. We don’t fit together without a fight. But body against body, we’re like matches finally struck.
I want to twist his head back, fleck that gold makeup off his jaw. To have him delight in it.
I want so much more than I ever imagined.
Our next kiss snags teeth. Blood and ash mix on my tongue. Behind my eyes, roses bloom.
Two glowing blue lights flare and a cackle rings out:You will burn.
I break away, yanking my hands from Cyrus. They’d been entwined.
He notices. Grabs my hand again—but the vision is gone. A knot of futures remains, none that I can untangle in my current state. “What did you see?”
My head aches where it meets the door. He couldn’t know—what does hethinkI saw? But a different desperation flickers in his expression, otherwise gentle as he lifts my chin.
“Violet, tell me.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Liar.” His swollen lips graze mine. “Do I have to convince you?”
I shrink from him, clarity returning with a vengeance. “You overestimate yourself.”
But we always call bluffs. A laugh bubbles from his throat, and Cyrus kisses me anyway, deep and sweet like it was the most natural thing to do. “You talk so much, but what do you know? Only what yousee.”
His hands slide under my robe, roam down my body, under the curve of my leg, bunching the fabric of my chemise. I shiver as the cool air hits my thigh and his fingertips bite into flesh.
“Cyrus,” I gasp.
I shove him.
He hits the ground hard, elbows scraping, blood dripping from his lips. A feeling skitters over my body, like I’m naked, and I hug my robe around me, skin burning underneath.
Cyrus rests where he fell, heaving with shuddering breaths. His head lolls back. “Well, I guess it isn’t you.”
“What?” I hate that the word comes out shaky. I don’t think I can take a step without collapsing.
He mutters with a burst of miserable laughter, “What am I doing?” Flickering candlelight casts him in gold. He tilts his gaze to me, his mouth shaping soundless words that he doesn’t have the courage to say.
The skittering feeling hasn’t stopped, deepening into an ache everywhere he touched. Whatarewe doing? “Cyrus—”
“You should leave Auveny,” he says quietly.
I might collapse anyway.“What?”
“Make up some story about how the Fates are drawing you elsewhere.” He swallows, gaze hardening. “Go to Yue, Balica, into the Fairywood, I don’t care. Be anywhere but here.”
As Cyrus gets up, I try to push him back down, but he wrenches me away, mouth twisted. Moments ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off me; now he can’t stand the thought of being in the samekingdom.
A chill spreads from my gut to my limbs. No, he could never stand it. It makes sense now—the disgust every time he sees me. He doesn’t hate me for being a liar. He only hates that he can’t control me and he can’t control himself.
“Don’t make this more difficult. I know you won’t listen.” The furrow of his brow smooths away, and Cyrus shifts into that benignly handsome Prince Charming the rest of the world knows: the honorable fool.
