Iwatched the Valen drink in my appearance, no sign of the disappointment I’d dreaded. Relief washed over me, a lightness that raised my shoulders. The tension that had knotted my stomach loosened, the ice inside me melting into a gentle warmth.
“Is this your true form?” he asked, gently tucking a strand of brown hair behind my ear.
“It’s what I revert to when I’m sleeping or lose focus.” I tugged on my oversized dress. “My original form, I guess. I don’t know about ‘true.’”
His face held no judgment, just honest curiosity. “Do you identify with another form more?”
“Not really. I…” I rubbed my chin. “I like the variety. I shifted appearances when I was pick-pocketing to fit my mood. Whenmy mother was getting healed, I spent two months pretending to be her son so we could travel more safely. It was fun being a man for a while. It’s different when I’m impersonating someone. Then I’m trying to act like them. The rest of the time, it’s still me.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can see that.”
Could he? Even my mother hadn’t understood when I’d tried to explain it.
He traced my cheekbone with his thumb. “Thereissomething about you that shines through no matter what form you take.”
The tenderness in his touch was more overwhelming than the pleasure he’d just given me. This wasn’t part of our agreement—this softness, this acceptance. It threatened our partnership, our heist, and everything I’d ever told myself about the Moonlit Court.
I shifted, aware of his obvious arousal beneath me. “Your turn,” I whispered, reclaiming familiar territory.
“You don’t need to—”
I silenced him with a kiss, my hand sliding between us to unfasten his formal trousers. “I want to,” I insisted, enjoying the way his breathing stuttered when my fingers wrapped around him. “Unless you don’t want me to?”
The helpless groan that escaped him was answer enough. Now I held the power, setting a deliberately languid pace that had him gripping the bench with white knuckles.
I’d only done this twice before with Philippe, but I’d seen it performed countless times, and I was a quick learner. I discovered what Valen liked—a twist of my wrist, a firmer grip—cataloging each reaction with the same precision I’d use planning a theft.
“Look at me,” I commanded softly, thrilling at the way his eyes, dark as lunar shadows, immediately found mine. Noman had ever looked at me with such raw vulnerability, such surrendered control.
“Emmeline,” he gasped.
I increased my pace, watching his face as he came apart. His release spilled over my hand, his body shuddering beneath mine. For a moment, the powerful knight was completely at my mercy, defenseless and true.
Afterward, he produced a handkerchief from some hidden pocket, cleaning us both with gentle care. We rearranged our clothing in comfortable silence, then settled side by side on the bench. He drew me against his chest, and together we watched the last of the festival lanterns drift across the night sky, their lights slowly fading as they carried their wishes beyond our reach.
Chapter 28
Emmeline
Hands resting behind my head, I lay back and gazed at the starry sky. The ball was only hours away now, but the day had dragged on at the pace of a dying snail. My foot twitched with pent-up energy. Part of me wanted to break into the palace, find the princess, and steal the damn jewel before the ball started, never mind how Valen said it was impossible.
Not that we’d just sat around all day waiting. He’d brought me to the Undarvue estate that morning, where, after he’d coached me, I’d shapeshifted into a fey woman and approached a servant on her way to the kitchens. Playing a jilted lover, I’d paid her handsomely to slip a small potion into Drudon’s meal that would make him violently sick all night.
It was a brilliant way to stop Drudon from screwing up our plans, and I never would’ve thought of it. Having a partner in crime was surprisingly nice.
“Emmeline?”
Valen’s voice came from below, sharp with concern.
“Out here!” I called.
I peered over the roof’s edge just as Valen stuck his head out of the window.
He looked up. “Ah.”
Had he worried I’d run off? It was only in the last few days that he’d stopped acting like we were stuck together with tar. He hadn’t even shackled me to the bed last night.
He climbed nimbly out of the window and joined me on the roof. For a moment, he took in the view.
