Mylips.
His death.
My freedom.
“Thank you. I owe you a great debt.”
I stand taller, tilting my lips into a playful grin. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you. It sounds far too much like the beginning of a bargain, and surely you know better than to bargain with a fae.”
“Then perhaps we can find something else to even the score.” His tone is hardly suggestive, but the smirk returns to my lips. It makes him seem so unlike the stiff, emotionless man I’ve seen him as. The glint in his eye brings fire to my core, one that has me feeling bolder.
“Perhaps,” I say, then turn away from him. Before I take a step, I glance over my shoulder, finding his eyes have strayed to my backside, something that has my belly thrilling further. “Enjoy your Lumies.”
He holds my gaze until I break it and march up the stairs. It’s all in my head, I know, but I can’t help imagining his eyes following my every step until I’m out of sight.
The breathless feeling in my chest, however, is far too real.
22
“Enjoy your Lumies,” Podaxis mimics in a high-pitched voice once I reach the top of the stairs where he waits.
I purse my lips to hide the traitorous smile that had somehow sprung up there, my cheeks burning as he snickers at me. “Were you listening the entire time?”
“Of course I was. I had to make sure he didn’t try to pummel you to death like that fighting bag.”
I cross my arms. “No, you didn’t. I wasn’t in any trouble.”
“Not when you can flirt your way out of it.”
“I wasn’t…” I try to say that I wasn’t flirting, but the last word won’t come out. Does that mean I was? Well, I suppose it would be a way to get the job done. When he snickers again, I burn him with a glare. “I don’t want to talk about it. If you’re so great at being my lookout, why don’t you tell me if the way outside is clear?”
That only wipes about half the mirth off his crabby face as he scuttles off and down the hall.
Once he returns, we make our way back the way we came until we reach the garden. There we cut through to the other side. There are no gardeners out at the moment, but still, we skirt around the perimeter of the garden, avoiding the view of the windows. Finally, we make our way out the door at the opposite wall. I pause while Podaxis checks inside the hall, then we exit through a side door that lets out to the alley behind Cygnus Street. It’s the same route I took earlier when I snuck out to buy Dorian his Lumies. Turns out my friend is right. He’s discovered the perfect way to get in and out of the church while drawing the least amount of attention.
“To the Vulture’s Prose?” he asks, glancing up at me.
“Yes, good sir,” I say in a mocking gentlemanly tone. “To the theater we go.” I lift him in my arms, and my first instinct is to tuck him into my nonexistent satchel. Then I remember there’s no more reason to hide. I’ve already been found. So I clutch my little friend to my chest and head for the mouth of the alley.
* * *
There’ssomething nostalgic about Orion Street now that I haven’t been here in days. The rundown shops, the underpopulated sidewalks, the strains of music floating out of open doors from practicing bands…somehow these things have joined waves and salt and sandy beaches as what I’d labelcomforting. Perhaps a better word ishome.
I open the door to the Vulture’s Prose and find movement on the stage. My eyes lock on Nadia suspended midair on her aerial hoop. She’s dressed in a purple velvet leotard and hose, her short black hair still set in their curling pins. With smooth, sinuous motions, she shifts positions on the hoop, hooking her legs over the top, and begins to dangle upside down.
“Oh, for the love of all things glorious,” Podaxis mutters, still in my arms. I set him down and we approach the stage.
“Already up practicing?” I ask.
“I was hoping you’d come.” She gives us an upside-down grin then winks at me. “Your Highness.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Don’t you dare start with that. There’s a reason I never confessed my royal title. If you call me anything but Maisie or Pearl, I’ll never speak to you again.”
She snorts a laugh, then with uncanny grace, she unhooks her legs, turns over, and slides from the hoop. I don’t know how she manages to move like a mermaid through the air like that. “Very well, Pearl. Come see the clothes I picked out for you. You too, Dax.”
“Dax?” I say under my breath, smirking at Podaxis.
“Not a word, Maisie,” he mutters. If his carapace could blush, I’m sure it would now. Instead, his mushrooms on his back begin to subtly glow. Is that his way of showing supreme embarrassment?
