I pause the massage long enough to peek at the sand clock we keep on the center of the table. It’s been flipped upside down, reset to track the daylight hours. Few particles dust the bottom of the glass. It couldn’t have been flipped for long—maybe a minute or two.
I point out, “I got back rightatcurfew. Not past it.”
Gem tosses a damp washcloth at my face. “The last grain of evening hours fell nearly a full minute before your hand touched the door.”
I wrap the cloth around my neck, and the warmth of it eases the stiff knot of tension. A satisfied groan escapes me. “I was with the guard, and it’s not like he’d arrest me.”
My fingertips halt on my brow bone. That might not be true anymore. Whatever we had is over. If he were to catch me out past curfew now, would a purist like him really think twice about detaining me?
A second chair scrapes against stone. I don’t have to open my eyes to know it’s Taurance. Her vanilla-almond body oil cloys at my senses, triggering a fresh wave of throbbing behind my right eye.
“What happened?”
Squinting through my heavy lids, I admit, “I picked another bad mark.”
“Lousy kisser?” Taurance asks, leaning over to brush the stray curls from my forehead.
“No. I mean, his kisses felt more like mucus exchanges, but nothing I couldn’t acclimate to over time.”
Gem makes a sound like she’s holding back bile as she perches along the table’s edge.
Taurance waves off her sister’s dramatics. “Was he not interested in taking it further, then?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Oh, he wasveryinterested, but only if he could get a release without attachments.”
“What?” Gem jumps to her feet. “Did he hurt you?”
Taurance’s black brows lift, wrinkling the smooth, pale skin of her forehead.
“No. He stopped as soon as I made it clear that I’m looking for an engagement, not a casual entanglement. He said he couldn’t do that to his wife.”
A huff escapes Taurance’s scowling pink lips. “So, he has no problem burying himself inside you as long as you don’t try replacing his buried wife?”
Gem swats Taurance’s shoulder. “Sun’s pits, T! That’s bleak. He’s a widower.”
“A horny widower,” Taurance corrects, then pats my leg. “You really are awful at picking ’em.”
“In my defense, there aren’t many options for a thirty-year-old disabled divorcee. I was hoping his neglected libido would override his grief. How was I supposed to know he’d have that much willpower still in him?”
Taurance leans in to ask, “What happened after you dashed his dreams of getting under your skirt?”
Gem groans, turning away to raid our cupboards.
“I told him the truth.”
A cabinet door slams. “You didwhat?”
I shift in my chair, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my dress. “On the way back, he admitted he knew about my condition and offered to go slower. That’s more empathy than I normally get. I thought if I told him why I wanted to get engaged, maybe he’d get it.”
“You told a Guard of the Gate you wanted out of the Hunt?” Gem asks from across the room, pale cheeks flushing.
Taurance’s palm presses against my forehead. “Are you sick?”
I swat her away. “Not any more than usual.”
“Dehydrated, then. Did you drink enough water today?”
Taking her sister’s cue, Gem rushes back to the washroom, sending the partition curtains billowing.
