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“We have to wait here,” I tell Rupert. “You can’t be involved in the coup, because of your people’s law. And I’d be useless—I have no fighting skills. We’re the two people who were nearest the King at the moment of his death, so we’ll be the prime suspects. It’s best if we disappear for several hours while the rebels attempt their takeover. They’ll send someone to fetch us later, and then sneak us out of the city.”
Rupert makes a sound in his throat.
“Oh goddess—you’re still muzzled. Can’t you get the thing off?”
I reach toward him in the dark, toward where I think his head might be. My fingers encounter one pointed ear, then the softness of his hair, then a leather strap. I fumble with the fastenings of the muzzle. No wonder he can’t take it off it himself—these are more complex than regular buckles, and they’re nearly impossible to undo without seeing them.
But I haven’t come this far just to be stumped by a couple of fucking leather straps. Teeth clenched, I work on the buckles until I manage to unfasten them all.
“I give you one primary command, and one only,” I breathe as the straps loosen. “You will be your own master in everything. You’ll make your own choices and obey no future orders from me.”
The muzzle’s straps slip from my fingers as it falls away. There’s a shifting sound in the dark—Rupert turning to face me as we sit there on the floor. The sound of his breath changes—it’s nearer, heavier, and I can see his eyes again, glowing blue.
“I’ll make my own choices,” he says. “But most of those will align with yours anyway. I’m your slave, Juliette, and not by my name, or any compulsion except my love.”
Love.
He loves me.
My throat is too tight to reply, so I reach for him. When my palms encounter the hot skin of his chest, a soft sob of relief escapes me at touching him again, solid and alive… and whole, as far as I can tell.
“Did the King—what did he do to you?” I manage.
“Kissed me. Roughed me up a bit. Worse things would have happened, but you returned just in time.” His fingers encircle my wrist, then his palm glides up my arm to my shoulder. “You came back for me.”
“Of course I fucking did.”
“How did you learn my name?”
“Your father.”
“No shit.” His voice is hollow with awe. “You went to the Sanctuary? How did you find it?”
“Enthel and Lannau, your friends from Lensterhaven. The ones who made your boots.”
“I’m surprised they helped you,” he says. “They can be unpredictable, those two, and cruel by human standards. I love them, but they’re dangerous in their dealings.”
Dangerous in their dealings—yes, I would say so. But I can’t tell him the price I paid. Not now, not amid such chaos. The loss of our firstborn is something we’ll discuss later.
“I got the name, and that’s all that matters,” I tell him. “Though I had to give up Axidor in exchange for the Elves’ goodwill.”
“Clever woman.” Surprise colors his tone. “You found it.”
“And the fennisley. Though why you’d hide two such things in an old notebook is beyond me.”
“Because no one would think to look there. And it was the one possession I intended to keep safe no matter what.”
“Why?”
“It’s you. Part of you, anyway.”
“That’s not much of an answer.”
He sighs. “I can’t really explain what that little book means to me, Juliette. Maybe someday, but not now, when all I want to do is kiss you.”
“Do it then,” I reply.
He rubs my arms up and down, casually pushing the lace of my maid’s uniform off my shoulders until they’re bare. Then his hands slide up my neck, his thumbs tracing my jaw.
