She swallowed noisily and asked, “Are you going to kiss me again?”
“Soon, but—” He huffed out a laugh when she closed her eyes and puckered her salted lips. “But not now. Not while your senses are befuddled by laudanum.”
“But I want to,” she pouted, opening her eyes to glare at him.
“And I want you to remember it,” he countered. “I’ll make it worth your wait, I promise.”
“Fine.” She propped an elbow on the windowpane and supported her chin in her palm. “Quick, who am I?”
This playful side of her enchanted him. “I have no idea.”
“I’m you, silly. You’re always leaning on things. Lean, lean, lean.”
“Thank you for pointing that out.” He chuckled when her lips puckered once more. “I’m still not going to kiss you.”
“You’re a good man, Emil Anderson.”
“To my everlasting regret.”
“You’re a good man except when you’re sniffing around to see if I wrote the suffrage anthem.” She gave him a pointed look. “Which I did. Obviously. It’s brilliant and I am brilliant.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “She finally admits it. One point for laudanum.”
“Stupid laudanum.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“No.”
The quickness of his answer surprised him. Shouldn’t he at least hesitate? Shouldn’t he at least care that he was tossing aside an opportunity to slingshot his agency into profitability? Shouldn’t his pride smart with the realization he wouldn’t emerge victorious? But he didn’t. It didn’t. He felt only peace.
“No,” he said again.
Her gaze dipped to his lap, then back. “Thank you.”
“But we are going to talk about it once?—”
“Once the laudanum wears off. I know.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m just so tired of being afraid.”
His heart clenched at her admission. He hated that she felt that way. “We’ll figure it out, Olive. I promise.”
“All right.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “It will be interesting to work together. Truly work together, I mean.”
“She admits she was playing against me. Another point for laudanum.”
“I was doing a good job!”
“You were,” he agreed. “How you planted a live mouse in a library, I’ll never understand.”
“That part wasn’t on purpose. But Madame Celestia’s distraction was.”
“I knew something was strange about her.”
“She thinks you’re my Knight, my protector. Isn’t that the funniest—” She broke off with a gasp. “Oh my God. I was in a chariot, there was danger, and then you came running over.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “And now you’re taking care of me. The tarot was right.”
“I’m no knight,” he said at once, his entire body resisting the notion. “Not at all.”
“Hmm,” was all she said, studying him with narrowed eyes.
He tore his gaze away and peered outside. “We should be there soon?—”
