“Deities, Ramson,” she hissed, and he felt her Affinity loosen from him.
He straightened. “You’re being followed.”
“Iknow,” she scoffed, and in the dim moonlight, he saw her eyes flash crimson as she rolled them toward where he’d last seen the guards.
“I need to talk to you,” he whispered. “Without…them.”
She frowned. “Where?”
The alcohol swirled in his head, emboldening him. He reached out and grabbed Ana’s hand, giving her a light tug toward him. Gently, he spun her and pressed her against the alder tree, shifting so that they were in a clear patch of moonlight.
She stiffened as he closed the gap between them. “What are you—”
He lowered his lips next to her ear. “Old trick, remember?” he said, and he knew they were both thinking of Kerlan’s mansion, of the way they’d dodged the yaeger back then. “Can you sense the guards’ movements?” She nodded, her hair tickling his chin. “Let me know when they turn around.”
Her chest brushed against his as she inhaled. Wedged between him and the tree, she was tense, her breaths coming quickly. Ramson drew back slightly to give her space, and in that moment, she looked up, her features bright and clear beneath the moonlight. He couldn’t help but notice the soft curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes as her eyes, too, roved hisface.
Her fingers slipped into his, cold but firm. And then she was leaning toward him, her lips parting and his thoughts were scrambling—
“The guards,” she whispered. “They’ve turned away.”
Then, with a light tug, she drew him behind the alder tree, and into the shadows of the courtyard.
It wasn’t difficult to lose the guards. Ana followed Ramson through the trees, past winding paths and across streams, his hands tight against hers. The flickers of blood around them grew sparse and the trees thicker as they headed toward what Ana thought might be an older section of the Blue Fort.
They stopped when they reached a section of the walls that were made of stone, close to the cliffs. Beyond, Ana could hear the crashing of the waves. Vines climbed up the wall, thick and dotted with small red flowers. They filled the air with a sharp, spicy fragrance.
“Ramson,” she panted. “Where are we—”
Ramson reached out and swept back the curtain of vines to reveal a set of stairs, leading into the wall. He gave a small bow. “Meya dama, up these stairs you’ll find the best ocean views this kingdom can offer.”
The steps were narrow and weather-worn, severely needing repair. There were no balustrades, but Ramson kept a tight grip on her wrist. It was pitch-black but for slits in the wall, where moonlight dusted the darkness and small breezes stirred the stale air around them.
Finally, it began to grow light, with the distant sound of waves. They emerged to open air.
A smallohescaped Ana’s lips as she surveyed the scene around them.
They stood on the walkway of a wall that had been built into the cliffs. Sections of it were crumbling, and the stone was so weather-beaten that it seemed to have melded with the cliff. Beyond them was nothing but the dark expanse of ocean, moonlight glinting like shards of glass on its waves.
“It’s beautiful,” Ana breathed.
“It’s an old guard tower,” Ramson said. A smile softened his mouth, and his eyes sparkled with a joy that she had almost never seen in him. The wind stirred his locks, and for a moment, he looked like a boy, standing at the edge of sea and sky. “I used to come up here with a friend.”
There was something raw to his voice, a tender honesty in the way he spoke. Ana realized that he’d kept his fingers twined around hers, and the touch sent shivers through her belly.
“Wait till you see the pool,” Ramson said, and pulled her forward.
The walkway tapered off into a flat stretch of cliffs. Water gushed from a crevice higher up in the cliff wall, collecting in a natural basin before spilling over the edge and plunging out of view into the sea below.
Ana thought of the waterfall they’d jumped down at Ghost Falls, of the roaring white currents of the Tiger’s Tail river. She shrank back. “It looks dangerous.”
Ramson’s smile was wicked. “It probably is,” he said. “It has a rather gruesome origin myth. Want to hear it?”
Ana raised an eyebrow. “This had better not be what you brought me here for.”
“Legend has it,” Ramson began, “that the first King of Bregon fell in love with a siren. He possessed the magek to water—that is, he was a water Affinite—so he manipulated the current of ocean water so that it flowed uphill at nighttime. That was when they would reunite, with only the stars and the moon as their witnesses.”
Ana thought of the statue of the man and the siren in the Livren Skolaren.
