Ember lets out a dreamy sigh. “I’ve been desperate to come here for years. We finally had an excuse. We’ve been visiting all the music halls. I heard I might find you here.”
“You came to the Vulture’s Prose to see me?” I’m flattered by the thought. I only knew Ember for a handful of minutes, but I’ve always hoped to see her again one day.
“I wanted to thank you in person,” she says, taking my hands in hers. “Because of you, things worked out the way they did.” She casts another sweet glance at the prince.
My mind brims with questions, my curiosity equal only to my desire to get to my room and find Dorian. I haven’t seen him in a week, but even that feels too long. Despite my longing for him, I’ve come to value friendship equal to romantic partnership. I return the squeeze of Ember’s hands. “How long will you be in the city?”
“One more day,” she says.
“Would you like to meet for lunch tomorrow? I’m desperate to hear the full tale of you and the prince.”
“I’d love that.”
My smile widens. “Wonderful. Meet me here at noon. I’ll take you to try the best Lumies in town.”
* * *
If my moodwasn’t already so buoyant, it certainly is after seeing Ember. I’m brimming with excitement to speak with her tomorrow, but now my mind is set on getting to my room. Backstage, I head up the set of newly built stairs that lead to my improved living quarters. After I became a partner in the theater’s ownership, Mr. Tuttle insisted I take a better room. Not wanting to disrupt Nadia, Klaus, or Stanley’s rooms, I had our unused attic space turned into a bedroom. I clear the top stair and step into my spacious living area. The ceiling is slanted and strung with tiny orbs of electric lights that look very much like stars at night. The walls are painted a deep blue that resembles either the sea or the sky—depending on one’s perspective. I glance around my room, seeking Dorian, and find him on my bed. His eyes are closed, one hand propped behind his head, face slack with the peace of slumber.
The sight of him sends a stupid grin stretching over my face. It doesn’t matter how many times I get to see his handsome visage, it only gets more dazzling every day. Or perhaps that’s just the love talking. Either way, my cheeks warm as I tiptoe to the bed. Sitting next to his sleeping form, I remove my sealskin from around my shoulders and lay it at the foot of the bed. I assess him, finding him dressed in plain trousers, a shirt, and an open waistcoat instead of his Saint Lazaro uniform. He continues to don the black jacket and slacks in public, but he slips into casual attire every chance he gets. He’s been busy the last several months. Once his citizenship was secured, he was able to consider what he wanted to do as a profession. As a brother from the Order of Strength, he was expected to represent the church in some adjacent way. So, naturally, he returned to his love of boxing. Not fighting but advocating for professional boxers. He joined Lumenas’ Board of Athleticism where he now works to ensure safe conditions for fighters, auditing arenas, reassessing rules and sanitation requirements. He also works to expose any illegal fighting operations.
I lift a hand to his forehead and brush aside one of his black curls. His lips part with a sigh as I caress the side of his face. He reaches a sleepy hand to mine. His lashes begin to flutter. He opens his eyes and as soon as they focus on me, a sly smile curves his sensuous mouth. I lean in just as he starts to pull me down. Our lips meet in crushing heat. He turns on his side and I press myself against the length of his body. Our kiss deepens as his hands rove my hips, my thighs. “I missed you,” he says against my mouth.
“I missed you too.”
He pulls away slightly, drinking me in as his hands weave through my tresses. I’ve kept them short this past year, and I’m not sure I’ll ever want to grow them out. The way Dorian’s fingers slide so easily through them only makes me love the style more. “I meant to surprise you, not fall asleep.” His voice is a deep, rumbling whisper, one that always sets my pulse hammering.
“I’m glad you fell asleep,” I say, planting a kiss along his jaw.
“Why, so you could sneak up on me?”
“No, because I like the look of you in my bed.”
He pauses, his hand in the middle of tracing the side of my neck. “Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Huh,” he says, pretending to look ponderous. “That’s very interesting because I actually like the way you look inmybed.”
“Is that so?” I kiss him again but feel him stiffen. Pulling back, I study his face. His expression has turned serious, reminding me of the stoic brother he often becomes when he dons his uniform. But stoic isn’t the right word for him right now. No, there’s something else in his eyes. Is it…trepidation?
“What if…it wasourbed?” he asks.
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“What if, instead of your bed and mine…there was only one.”
A giddy blush heats my cheeks. “Are you saying you want us to live together?” I admit the sentiment is tempting. After Dorian secured his citizenship, he got a townhouse on Halley Street that he shares with his sisters. Meanwhile, I’ve continued to reside at the theater. That doesn’t mean we don’t spend nearly every night together, either at his place or mine. But there’s a reason we don’t live together. Why we sneak from each other’s homes at dawn. Dorian’s Order may allow him to forgo a vow of celibacy, but we’re only engaged, not married. There may be a loophole in his vows, but we both know the church would be less than thrilled if we shared a home before marriage.
“I’m saying more than that, Maisie,” he says, taking my hand and threading our fingers together. Another look of trepidation shutters his features, but it's soon replaced with a smile. “I’m saying I don’t want to wait anymore. It doesn’t matter whose house we live at. We can live at both. We can live at neither and buy a house by the sea. All I know is I want to spend every night with you and not have to skulk out at dawn. I want to make love to you in the middle of the day and kiss you passionately in public. I want to do everything. I want us to be everything.”
My heart thuds against my ribs, my chest swelling with warmth. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Marry me.”
I study his face, making sure he’s serious. There’s mirth in his eyes, but no teasing. “You really want to?”
“Yes. I’d marry you tonight if you’d let me.”
