Nausea turns my stomach. I’ve never said those words out loud. I’ve never even admitted them to myself, but they’re true.
Briony laces her arms behind my neck and pulls me in for a soft kiss. The press of her lips is like a balm on my soul, one I wish I never had to let go of. I angle both our bodies until we’re laying on our sides, arms wrapped around each other. She ends our kiss but keeps her forehead pressed to mine. The way we lay like this, not kissing, our naked bodies tangled not in sex but comfort, truths hanging in the air between us, feels more intimate than any erotic act. It feels like it will break me and heal me all at once.
I close my eyes, relishing the feel of her breath warming my lips. “Tell me about your favorite ballet again.”
She emits a light chuckle. “Why? I’ve told you about it so many times. Now that I know my dreams of you were shared, you can’t pretend you didn’t let me talk your ear off time and time again.”
“I liked the sound of your voice. I liked the way you smiled when talking about something you loved. I still do, so humor me.”
She gives in, going on about her first trip away from the convent, her first time attending a ballet, her stay in the city of Lumenas and all the times she snuck from her lodgings to investigate other forms of dance. The sound of her talking about dancing is the most beautiful thing in the world, almost as soothing as the feel of dough beneath my hands. The smell of sugar. Briony Rose is a confection, a blade, and a beauty all rolled into one, and I want nothing more than to devour her. Her sweetness as well as her sharp edges. Everything.
She finishes her joyful rambling, and we fall into silence. I close my eyes, trying not to consider how long we’ve been out here or the fact that we must return to the manor before dawn.
“I want to dance again,” Briony says, her voice muffled as she buries her face against my chest. “For so long I dreamed of meeting my family. I fantasized that they were upper-class citizens, which would mean I’d get to debut in society. I’d attend dances in elegant private ballrooms, or even in a public assembly hall. Instead, my hand was auctioned off before I knew I had a family, and to a man who hates to dance.”
My chest tightens at her reference to Monty. I stroke the back of her hair. “There is still dancing in your future, Briony. Married women can accept dances from partners who aren’t their husbands. In fact, that’s the norm in society. As a princess and wife of an aristocrat, you’ll be expected to honor respectable figures with dances.” I try to say all this without an edge to my voice, but I’m not sure it works.
“I know,” she mutters.
I pull back, forcing her to meet my eyes. I swallow hard before speaking. “And…and you’ll have me. Whether it’s a stolen dance at a ball, a masquerade where we can evade our families’ disapproval, or tucked safely away in a dreamscape. I’ll always dance with you.”
Her expression hardens, matching the rebellious fire that burns inside me. I hate every word I just stated, speaking about a future where we’ll remain on opposite sides of that sharp-edged divide. Where she’ll be someone else’s wife. Does she hate it too? And if so, is it for the same reasons?
The hard look leaves her face, and she averts her eyes from mine. Gently pulling out of my grasp, she gives me a sad smile. “We should head back to the manor, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes,” is all I can say, even as my heart screamsno. That we should stay here a little longer. Maybe even after dawn. Maybe we shouldn’t part at all. Maybe we should dissolve our bargain, and choose each other—
I bury those words in my heart, reminding myself of ones she said.
They’re my family.
There is nothing more important to me than them.
I could never ask her to choose me.
Never.
Once we finish dressing, I shift into my winged form and gather her to my chest. In a final act of selfish bliss, I take my time flying us back, circling over the manor far longer than necessary, simply enjoying the warmth of her body, the trust she’s given me. Then we make our descent and I land us on her balcony. In silence, she walks me to the door that leads out to the hall. In silence, I pull her to me and press a long, lingering kiss to her lips. In silence, I convey the truth I cannot say, written in the pressure between our mouths, the sweep of my tongue. It secretly states that I love her. That I’ve deeply and completely fallen for the girl that should be my nemesis.
That even though I’ll never ask her to choose me, I’ll choose her.
I’ll choose her over revenge, over the feud that threatens to break us, over the name I was born with, over the family I’m supposed to be loyal to.
I’ll chooseher.
And I’ll do anything it takes—sacrifice everything, even my own heart—to ensure she gets the happiness she desires.
40
BRIONY
The next morning, I awaken with the certainty that no bed has ever felt so cold. Or so empty. I slept well for once, my slumber deep and dreamless after being so thoroughly sated on a physical level, so emotionally full. Last night, I was content with the passionate kiss Thorne left me with before he returned to his room, but now I can’t help feeling the absence of him all around me. Waking up alone makes me wish he’d never left my chambers. That he’d stayed with me through the night. But the deeper that wish grows the more I recall why he didn’t.
Because we can’t be seen together like this.
Furthermore,wewere never supposed to happen in the first place.
I turn onto my back and press a hand over my heart, seeking regret or shame. Surely what we did last night was merely a tryst—the natural culmination of the tension that has been building between us, some poisonous concoction of desire and hatred. But even as I try to convince myself that’s the case, I only grow more convinced it isn’t.
