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Saoirse watched her for another heartbeat. Zylah stepped forward, as if ready to join the crowd, then sidestepped and marched straight for the balcony before disappearing behind the sheer turquoise curtains.
Well, that wouldn’t do at all.
Saoirse set her glass on a nearby table and marched through the crowd, stepping around those dancing and others caught in conversation.
One tried to pull her aside, but she brushed past, holding up a finger. She wouldn’t miss this opportunity. Not when it seemed like the female had been trying her best to avoid Saoirse at every turn.
Saoirse stepped past the billowing curtains and found Zylah standing at the edge of the balcony. Her gloved hands gently rested on the thick railing lined with ornate vines and flowers in full bloom despite the time of year.
Zylah wore a pale green dress that hung to her ankles, yet the fabric was freeing enough that it moved with the wind.
Saoirse stepped forward. “A beautiful female should be inside dancing, not standing alone on a balcony.”
Zylah’s head turned slowly and her eyes drank Saoirse in. From the slit that ran up her thigh to the gold earrings dangling to her shoulders. Her mouth opened once and Saoirse’s heart fluttered when she heard the female’s sharp intake of breath.
Saoirse’s red silk dress left little to the imagination, hugging every curve of her body in an alluring way. She’d caught several staring. Several she might have tried to lure into her bed that night had she not seen Zylah standing in the corner.
Now, Saoirse could care less about the others.
Zylah scrunched her nose and turned away. “I thought I made it clear last time that I didn’t want anything to do with you.”
Right. That. “If it earns me a conversation, I’m making strides to better the lives of the oppressed where I’m able.”
Zylah scoffed. “And yet you arrived with a slave carrying your bags.”
Saoirse led her back against the balcony, facing the ball inside. She watched a male spin a female through a complicated dance step and imagined what it might be like to do the same with Zylah. “She’s not a slave anymore.” That earned her a sideward glance. “I gave the female her freedom and offered to teach her about the world. She chose to stay by my side to learn.”
“Is that to be her payment?”
Saoirse frowned. “No. I’ve given her a fair wage and more to account for the time she’s spent in my service. She’s quite wealthy now.”
“And I suppose money makes up for everything she’s endured.”
“No,” Saoirse said carefully. “But I’m not able to give her those years back. It’s the best I can offer.”
Saoirse sensed Zylah’s rising anger. “It’s not enough.” Zylah pushed off from the balcony, ready to leave.
“What is enough?” Saoirse asked and Zylah stopped. She seemed to stare at the same couple gliding across the floor. “You were angry that I did nothing. Now you’re angry that I’ve tried something. What is it you wish me to do?”
Zylah spun and if Saoirse could have taken a step back, she might have. “One,” Zylah held up a finger. “You can stop following me around and take ‘no’ for an answer. Two,” she held up another finger. “There is absolutely nothing you can do to make up for their pain.”
“So I’m condemned no matter what I do? That’s it? I’m just the evil ambassador who did nothing for those less fortunate?”
Zylah squared her shoulders. “More or less.”
Saoirse eyed her. “And yet you’re still talking to me.”
“Because you’re insufferably distracting.”
Saoirse quirked a smile at that. “Am I now?” She stepped forward and corralled Zylah until her back pressed against the balcony. Saoirse knew the female had magic now, which meant if she wanted to escape, she could. The extraordinary female before her wasn’t frightened or submissive or weak.
Zylah gripped the railing. “Yes, now leave me alone. Surely you have better things to do than follow me around.”
Saoirse closed the distance slowly, watching Zylah’s body language with each step. She placed her hands on either side of the female, their chests so close they were almost touching. Saoirse could smell the jasmine soap Zylah had used that morning and the fresh mint on her breath.
Her heart answered Zylah’s beat for beat, blood racing. Saoirse leaned close, her breath creating prickles along Zylah’s neck. “You tell me to leave, yet you linger, allow yourself to be pushed into a corner . . .” She trailed those breaths down her throat, hovering just out of reach. “I think you want more than you’re willing to allow yourself to admit.” After all, it was Zylah who’d sought her out at the tavern and Zylah who had started their conversation. Saoirse’s lips dipped closer. “If you want me to stop, you have but to say the word.”
“Stop.”
