He grinned, lifting his chin.
“Oh, it’s something far worse,” he said, and winked as he held out his arm to her. She took it, the press of her hand against his elbow so perfectly sweet. He led her about the space, his cane clacking almost in time with the music. And as he walked, he leaned in close, as if he were sharing a secret. “I heard a rumor there’s a strange and deadly beast hiding in this very castle.” His lips nearly grazed her ear as he whispered, “Araphon.”
“No,”Ezer gasped, and feigned surprise. “Surely there must be someone to mind it?”
“Oh, there is, My Lady,” Kinlear said. “A fine Raphonminder. The best there ever was?—”
“Theonly,”Ezer corrected him, but he lifted a finger and continued.
“She is strong and brave and a little bit feisty, as Raphonminders should be. But rest assured. She’s brought back down to earth by thebrutallyhandsome assassin she’s rumored to train it with.”
“Brutally handsome?” Ezer asked and lifted a brow beneath her mask. “Are you certain?”
“Certain as death,” Kinlear said. “They say he’s so handsome one can hardly look upon him without drooling into their winterwine.”
At that, she laughed and held onto his arm a bit tighter.
And her body slid a bit closer.
And he could not fathom a world in which this Raphonminder, bold as she was, would not go with him into the dark.
Their future was swift on its way. He was just about to push a little further, ask her to dance with him, when suddenly his eyes latched on to a monster in the crowd.
Histwin.
Arawn approached, looking so godsdamned handsome Kinlear could have been sick. From his suit to his fiery mask to his muscles...
He came straight toward them. A solid presence to part the sea of Sacred. Kinlear tensed beside Ezer, his only anchor the fact that her hand was still in the crook ofhisarm.
Don’t let go,he wanted to tell her.
Because as Arawn approached, he was suddenly transported back to another night. Another Absolution, when it was not Ezer on his arm, but Soraya.
He’d commissioned a dress just for her, gold to match the glittering feathers of her war eagle. It had long, flowing sleeves, but a tight bodice, and war eagle wings runed toglowon the back.
As if she were an angel, something far too magnificent for him. He’d planned to sweep her off her feet into the night, winterwine lulling them both into a dark alcove, kisses upon swollen lips, and then later, back to his room.
But his illness had other plans, as that bastard so often did.
He’d only made it a few dances into the night with her, spinning her in his arms, kissing her neck the way he so loved, when his cough came on strong.
He sat down, but it was dark in the training room, and full of bodies and music andjoy.There wasso much godsdamned joy,from people his own age that were living, that weren’t burdened by an internal monster that sought his early death...
So, he’d excused himself.
He hadn’t yet told Soraya the truth of his illness, though she knew, of course, how his health burdened him. But she didn’t know the way it wouldend,that every day he felt nearer to his own death. At this rate, he would die long before she did, even with her using her magic.
He didn’t want her to know. He couldn’t bear it if she did...so he’d come up with a lie that he’d drank too much. That he just needed to go to sleep for a while.
They had matching masks, red filigree that made Soraya look, for all the world, like a treasure.
“We getoneday to be free, Kinlear,” she’d said. “One day...and you’re just going to walk out early? Walk out onme?”
He was going to be sick.
But she couldn’t see him like this, because then she’d think him weak and insignificant, and—no.He could taste blood on his tongue. His chest was rumbling, the illness flaring, ready to erupt, and the room began to spin.
He muttered an answer, nearly tripped over his own cane as he’d left the dance floor like it was on fire.
