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“Sounds familiar.”
An exasperated grunt. “We’re on the same side. I believe Raya’s hiding something, but we need proof, and your cooperation could make all the difference.” He acts as ifI’mthe addled one here, and I realize exactly what’s going on in his head. “If you haveanyinformation—”
“Oh, sorry,are we working together now?” I bark a laugh. I want to think that I couldn’t kill him, but he’s tempting me. “Princey, you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. If you want my assistance, maybe you shouldn’tbanish me!”
Cyrus dares to look stricken. Shutting his eyes, he only chides, “As you said, we have more pressing dangers to focus on. We can discuss your future later, but right now, I am trying my best to contain a fraught situation—”
“You have some nerve sounding so damn tragic.” I shove him square in the chest. He clutches my wrists, always careful not to touch my hands. We’re too close again. The billow of his shirt brushes against me. “Coming here to beg my help before you throw me out. Traipsing around with Raya like she’s your true love when we both know the night of the ball wentvery differently.”
In a flicker of his expression, I recognize the prince I knew growing up: unyielding but uncertain, shadowed by fate. “That night was a mistake.”
“Was it?” I can almost pretend he was fevered—half-drunk and high on fairy dust—when he nearly broke downmy tower’s door and put his hands on me as if they’d been aching to for weeks. “Tell me something I’d believe at face value for once.”
“I wish you were never in my life.”
“Would’ve been a short life,” I bark.
“Maybe,” he says, wistful in a way that makes us both pause. “But you are. In my life.”
His grip is still on my wrists, pinning them in the air. We breathe heavily in this scrap of privacy we found among the cobwebs. There’s nothing between us except dust and lust.
“You still want to kiss me right now,” I whisper with bitter satisfaction. “Isn’t that why you’re so angry?”
Cyrus sways closer. I know the collision is coming, but I don’t draw away, my arrogance and my own body betrayingme.
We meet—a brush of lips, then more, as we stagger into each other. He drinks me in like he’s drowning. My eyes flutter shut at the pull. If I make a noise, he’d steal it with the tongue slipping between my teeth.
I forget our titles. I forget every prophetic warning. The world is as small as the taste of him, like liquored fruit. I hook my fingers in his collar. When we first kissed, I was too shocked to act on anything but instinct, but this time I am the one pulling him down, pulling him near. I learn fast—I’ve always had to—and surprising him is worth any fumbling on my part.
Maybe I won’t ever stop him from wanting me gone, but I could unravel him like this.
I could burn like this.
We tumble into the shadows. Hands around my waist then buried in my hair, Cyrus pushes me into a space behind a rack of shields and a moth-bitten divider. I understand now how he wants me as much as he hates me: I’m the splinter in his heart, digging deeper with every attempt to removeme.
I understand now what inevitable means.
A distant thought reminds me,This is dangerous.
Rattling. A swinging creak.
The door.
“Shh.” Cyrus slips a finger through my choker and tugs me toward him. He kisses me like nothing else matters, and I kiss him like I believe it.
My heartbeat is the loudest thing in the room. This isstupidand dangerous, but if we stop, we’ll be arguing again. If we stop, I’ll just have a memory haunting me. Tethered by touch, we’re two mad lovers who know of nothing beyond this. I hardly know myself. I thought I was afraid of losing control.
I’m more afraid of how much I like it.
The door shuts. Clutter settles. We’re alone again, and time resumes.
Wrenching him by the back of his head, I pull Cyrus off me, panting.
“Violet.” His eyes are wide and dark. I remember his words from the labyrinth:We could ruin each other, and we would not hesitate to do so.
“Figure out what you want.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Figure it out, so I can ruin you properly.”
I grab my hairpins scattered on the ground and storm out of the armory. If Cyrus calls out for me, I don’t hear him past the pounding of my blood.
