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“That too.” She exhales what could be a self-conscious laugh, if we weren’t ourselves and our vicious ending didn’t still throb within us both. “I also don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Crown princes don’t get in trouble. We’re untouchable.” I keep my tone flippant, but I feel her gaze on me.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” She shifts her weight between her feet. “Did you have any other questions?”
“No. It’s fine. We should both sleep.”
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I’ll investigate the magic possibilities. See if we can determine what we’re dealing with. And whose memories are wrong.” I tap off the excess ink from the quill and cap the bottle. “If it’s mine, someone else has to remember our…interaction. Think you can talk with the servants who were at the ball to see if they saw anything? Know anything?”
“Of course.” She nods, the movement deliberate. “I don’t think I should come to the ball again. I’m pushing my luck with my stepfamily noticing me.” Uncertainty flickers on her face. “Maybe we can just meet after?”
“All right.” I hold out a hand toward the door. “After you.”
She takes three steps and stops. I jerk back to avoid hitting her. Her hair flutters off her cheeks as she spins to face me. “Can I ask, though — the conversation with your father. Between you and him, I mean. The things I remember him saying… That actually happened, didn’t it?”
I don’t move.
“Because you acted like it. Like those words were familiar. And, well, you made it sound like…”
My throat tightens at the niggling instinct of where this is going. What it may require me to admit. I force a nod. “Yes. We had that discussion.”
“But I wasn’t those things? To you.”
“You were my best friend.” My voice almost cracks, and I lift my chin. “Or maybe not, if you actually have to ask that —”
“I just want the truth, Kirran. The words in my head are so loud. So strong. I can’t just pretend —”
“No.” It rips out of me. She stills, eyes searching mine in the candlelight. I resist the urge to step closer to her. Or grab her arms and pull her closer to me. “No. You weren’t any of those things. Nothing he thought or said about you and me was true.”
For a moment, she stands there, unblinking, studying me like she’s considering how to repair broken pottery. Like before, when I told her we’d find out the truth, something gleams in her eyes. A translucent current. I don’t know what to make of it. She’s never displayed it with me before tonight. Yet it draws me, calms me somehow. Softens the pain in my chest, the ache that has made itself my constant companion, burrowed itself inside me until I’m entangled with it, part of it.
Whether it’s the look in her eyes or her eyes themselves, I can’t tell. It makes me want to let go, relax, tip my face toward the sun. Which is stupid. There is no sun here; it’s the middle of the night. Dim light and shadows wrap around us both. Standing there in her nightgown and shawl, she is…
The desire to touch her face burns in my fingertips. My breathing quickens despite myself.
How is she so beautiful? So life-offering, even now?
I could change my mind. Have her stay. Tell her I want her to stay. Take her hand and lead her —
I tear my gaze from hers and huff out a sharp breath. Heat swarms through me. It takes far too much effort to keep my attention on the floor.
What was that?
“Kirran?”
Not quite ready to dare a glance, I just grunt in question.
“You were about to escort me to my quarters?”
“Right.” I swallow back as much of the simmering want as I can and sidestep her. “Yeah. Come on.”
Once out in the hall, she takes the lead. I trail a step behind. We don’t speak, and my gaze keeps jumping from her to the dark walls around us. We pass down several staircases before she stops at a door.
“This is it.” She opens the door a crack and pauses. “I suppose…I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I say through an exhale. “I’ll research everything I can.”
