“Whoa,” he said. “Steady.” He was two steps below me. As I found my balance, he stepped up, our eyes level.
I smiled. “Following me again,” I accused him.
He cocked a thin eyebrow. “How much wine did you have?”
“Just the right amount,” I said contentedly, smiling wider.
Beneath his mask, his mouth quirked into a smirk. His eyes were intense, the color of a storm. “I came to ask you something,” he murmured, voice deep.
I leaned in. “Is it something secret? Is that why we’re whispering?” A new, thrilling boldness had infused me.
He looked surprised for a second; then his gaze grew darker. Our masked faces were inches apart.
“Very secret,” he said, in little more than a thrum.
My eyes flicked downward. His did the same. There was a hot curl of something like fire in my abdomen.
I knew I should take a step back up the stair. That tipping toward him was a terrible idea. But his fingers were on my waist, each one a brand, and they were pressing me incrementally, inexorably nearer.
“Corith,” Llir huffed out. His breath was warm spice, his tone halfway between want and warning. Our lips brushed together; our masks bumped gently. It was almost a trial, to see if we wanted more.
And it wasn’t enough. He deepened the kiss, something almost fierce in the movement.
Then—a peal of laughter from below.
We both started and glanced down the stairs. But the sound had come from the ballroom—Vercha’s high cackle.
I shook my head, a strange buzzing in my ears. What in hells was I doing? This was dangerous.
“I was going to ask if you’ll meet me again.” His gaze locked onto mine once more. Where his hand still gripped me, my skin felt scorched. “Tomorrow morning. To practice that trick.”
I swallowed, feeling suddenly uneasy.
Tomorrow.
My thoughts jumped jerkily to the Cage.
As I stared at him, the lamplight limning his hair, a dark and dreadful longing came over me—a longing to spill everything out to him, right here and now. To tug out this wicked fishhook of a secret and bleed the truth, no matter the damage.
I wanted to warn him. To tell him to run. Or perhaps running was whatIought to do. My part in all this was finished, wasn’t it? Avrix and I had prepared the way for the Cage…Did I really have to linger for what came next?
He watched me, eyes narrowing in confusion. “If you’d rather not…” His tone was guarded.
I opened my mouth to say, “Of course I’ll come,” for I knew I couldn’t give in to that longing, nor could I run, abandoning my only chance of ever finding out what had happened to Zennia. But my throat was dry; the words stuck fast.
“All right,” Llir said quietly. “Good night, then.” He turned.
“Wait,” I bit out, moving after him. I could save this.
But Llir, now three steps down, had frozen. An arrow slit there looked down over the bay, and slowly he walked over to it, staring.
“What is it?” I said dully. It looked pitch-black out there to me. My thoughts were fuzzy, my lips buzzing after that kiss.
He wrenched off his mask, let it drop to the floor, gripped the stone with white fingers as he gazed through the opening.
“What is that?” he muttered, more to himself than to me, but I dutifully joined him, peering out, too.
From our lofty viewpoint, looking southwest, we could see the island, deep black on navy, sweeping down to the edge of the mudflats. The moons were out, nearly converging, casting a weak, silver glow on the bay, but the pinewood and the beach were wreathed in white mist. It was low tide—it must have been later than I thought—and the flats were vast and yawning and empty.
