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I clasped my arms around him and buried my face in the hollow of his neck, trying to string my whirling thoughts together. Could this be the entire reason he’d thrown himself at the Mother’s army at the Golden Court so recklessly – because he’d believed it would somehow take a burden off my shoulders, one less task to worry about?
That didn’t make sense. He should have known it would be a risky operation to say the least, a mission that might very well end in death or danger. He should have realised, too, that a desperate attempt to save his life would not be beneficial for my mental wellbeing in the slightest. So this could not be all of it, could it?
Yet I found myself faltering, the pointed questions welling up in me crumbling to dust on my tongue as I imagined how he might react.
I knew how he’d lashed out last time I’d pressed him for the truth of his motivations that day. I remembered how he’d snapped at me, too, when I’d made the mistake of saying one wrong thing too many about the bindings – even though I still wasn’t fully surewhatthe mistake had been. If I stepped into the same trap again …
I would be leaving at sunset tomorrow.
So did I really want to press this matter now, when I might not see him for days after tonight? What if I hit a sore spot andprovoked him all over again – what if we were forced to spend the next few days caught in some unstable truce, worrying about the next time we’d see each other? The White City would give me trouble enough even with my sanity fully intact. Arguing about armies with consuls while my heart was slowly disintegrating in my chest … that sounded like a vicious hell of its own.
I swallowed my questions. Swallowed the danger. Kissed the smooth, warm skin just above his collarbone and muttered, ‘You’re doing plenty already.’
He hissed in a slow breath, fingertips tightening on my lower back. ‘If you say so.’
‘Oh, don’t do that thing,’ I grumbled, glowering up at him. If I was going to these lengths to keep the peace, the least he could do was keep his own peace, too. ‘You’re the only person keeping me sane these days, Your Highness. I’d have gone stark mad and probably evil without you – so even if you’re determined to loathe yourself, you should at the very least be able to see how much you’re contributing to the cause.’
‘It’s not that I don’t believe you.’ A lie. I could see it in the artificial blandness of his expression, hear it in the overly restrained quality of his voice. ‘I’m just still worried about you.’
‘But thenwhatare you worried about, if—’
He lowered his face before I could finish the question, mouth brushing over mine with gentle, persuasive intent.
I had not wanted to gasp but gasped nonetheless, the sensation too sudden, too compelling for me to control myself. His lips were firm, in the softest, supplest way. They moulded themselves to mine so easily, tempting, beguiling – whispering at me to let go of all those worrisome thoughts, to trust and have faith and believe him, to let him take care of me in all the ways only he knew. Half my mind obeyed. The other half of it stuck stubbornly to the course it had set out for itself, clinging to thewords I’d planned to speak – because I couldn’t give in, Ineededto know …
My head jerked itself back, tearing away from our kiss. Every other fibre of my body cried out in outrage, following my treasonous thoughts down the path of least resistance.
‘Creon—’ I managed.
‘Hush,’ he muttered, the rough sound of his voice curling around me like a warm, heavy blanket enveloping my shoulders. His fingers wrapped around my nape, tugging me closer. ‘Let me keep you sane, then, love. I promise I’m fine. Stop worrying yourself when there’s nothing to worry about – I promise.’
Love.
I should not be listening, I should not give in so easily – but Zera help me, the way he spoke that one coveted word … The reverent twist of his lips. The heat of his breath on my cheek. The soft rasp of that melodious baritone, trailing down my spine like the tender scrape of nails, setting skin and blood on fire …
I promise.
A lie. I knew it was a lie.
But it was such a sweet one, and I would be so glad to believe it …
I was still leaving tomorrow. The rest of this day would be nothing but preparation, nothing but discussions and strategies and well-intended pieces of advice; the night would be too short, and I’d need every minute of sleep I could get. Yetherewe were free, in this small hideaway with its sparkles and splashes of colour. Here I could surrender to the battle-forged body in my arms, give in to my own selfishness for these few stolen minutes; here I could be just Emelin, not a symbol, not a weapon.
This might be sanity, or it might be the opposite. Hell, it might be both.
I no longer cared to figure it out.
‘Don’t make me regret this,’ I whispered, hands snaking up to his chest, his shoulders. ‘Please.’
He kissed me again.
There was a despondency in his touch, an edge of roughness I hadn't felt before – as if he was trying to consume me to the last drop, to take in all of me and leave nothing behind. I knew I should worry. I knew I should ask. But his grip on my nape tightened, his lips tasted like sin and summer nights, and I caved without another thought – arched into him as his mouth moved feverishly on mine.
I’d ask and worry later.
Right now, I just wanted to drown.
I opened my mouth to him, matching the sharp need of his invitation, tangling our tongues together. His growl was a feral warning. I clawed my nails into the straining muscles of his chest, and he let out another sound like liquid hunger; one of his hands grasped my bottom, shoving me roughly against his rock-hard body, kneading my aching flesh. The other knotted in my hair and angled back my headjustso, holding me still as his lips trailed a slow, ravenous path down my jaw, my throat. I gasped his name, and his fist tightened around my curls.
