“Brave and foolish,” Raven mutters as he looks over the parchment. “Some things never change.”
A flicker of annoyance stirs in my chest, though it burns less intensely than before. I shove it aside, placing the aura back on the desk as we both scan the room. Making sure we haven’t left any trace of our intrusion behind.
We step back into the antechamber, and I pull the picks from my hair to secure the door once more, but Raven stiffens, his gaze snapping toward the entrance.
Voices in the hall.
Fuck.
Raven pushes me back into the study, swiftly pressing the door shut behind us just as the one outside bursts open.
He cages me against the wall, his head tilted as we both strain to listen. The laughter and muffled voices just outside should hold myfocus. Instead, all I can think about is how close Raven is—how his arm brushes against my shoulder, his chest inches from mine.
Gods, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been thisawareof someone. Romance rarely finds a place within the Aviary, yet over the past year, I’ve shared fleeting moments with strangers. None of those encounters, however, have left me as keenly conscious as this one does now.
Raven’s breath brushes against my temple, and the faint scent of smoke, honey, and cinnamon wraps around me until I can feel it seeping into my bloodstream. He shifts his weight, leaning closer to the door, and his chest grazes mine. The contact makes my traitorous heart leap, and I clench my hands into fists against my sides to stop the unsteady shiver that threatens to escape. My legs feel like they might give out entirely if I don’t keep still.
“You’re holding your breath again,” Raven whispers, his voice so quiet I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“Am I?” I whisper back, trying—failing—to sound detached.
He leans closer, and I can feel the heat of his words against my skin when he murmurs, “You know, if you wanted to get this close to me, princess, all you had to do was ask.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I’m worried I’ll draw blood, but it does the trick. Somehow, that cuts through the whirlwind, letting me find balance. “Shut up,” I hiss, side-eyeing him just enough to catch the faint smirk tugging at his lips.
A shrill giggle pierces through the wood, followed by a masculine chuckle, and my jaw drops.
Did that arrogant ass leave our dinner for sex?
As though Raven can sense my thoughts, a warm hand seals over my mouth, reminding me to stay silent.
In the other room, the teasing laughter turns to moans and soft gasps. The sounds combined with the press of Raven’s body ignite a heat low in my belly, and my thighs clench together, either to encourage the sensation or stifle it. With one hand still pressed against my mouth, Raven caresses the exposed skin along my ribs with the other. His fingertips dance over flesh, leaving a trail of fire burning in their wake.
Reckless. Reckless. Reckless.
The word becomes a chant in my mind. Yet I can’t bring myself to care. Not as the sounds of the woman’s passionate cries reach their peak. Not as Raven presses his hips into mine. Not as I grab on to his tunic and pull him even closer.
Another shrill cry sounds, followed by a crash, and both Raven and I freeze. I tilt my head, listening intently as the sounds of laughter and running footsteps lead farther away before another door slams.
Raven shifts to the side and inches the door open, peering out through the crack. The antechamber must be empty now, as his hand slips from my mouth, his fingers intertwining with mine. He tugs me from our hiding spot and back into the reality of our situation.
Our mission.
Our purpose.
I chant the reminder in my mind as Raven and I escape the prince’s chamber. We return to my rooms in silence, the tension so thick between us, it’s almost a tangible thing. As though, if I look hard enough, I’ll be able to see it woven into the air like the threads of a tapestry.
The silence stretches as we walk, the lingering heat of his body beside mine like a second skin. Our footsteps echo in the hall, neither of us daring to break the quiet, until Raven glances over with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
When we finally reach my chambers, a tremor runs through me, and I grip my key to suppress the slight tremble in my hand as I turn it in the lock. I push open the door, and the tension spikes—threads pulling tight—my breathing speeding up in time with the beat of my heart. Distantly, I note the emptiness of the room, the absence of Nyssa and Myna. A mix of relief and unease settles over me as I realize Raven and I are now entirely alone.
“You’re good at this, you know.” His voice is soft but carries a weight that stops my pulse for a beat.
“This?” I raise a brow, trying to keep my tone light. “Sneaking into royal chambers and narrowly escaping being caught?”
“That too,” he says, a hint of a chuckle slipping through. “But, Imean, I always knew you’d make a good Songbird when you set your mind on it.”
The air between us tightens. He’s not teasing now. I meet his gaze, searching for the Raven I knew before—the one who seemed untethered to duty. I don’t find him. What I see instead is someone forged in the same fire as me, someone who has been broken and remade along the way.
