“Putain,” I turn to her. “Our date.”
Adrien stumbles. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t like the sound of Cadence going on a date.
Even in the dimness, I spot the streaks of crimson licking up the sides of her jaw. I could’ve used the word dinner but deliberately didn’t. I realize this makes me no better than a dog marking his territory, but I want Adrien to know.
He side-eyes me, and I swear his eyes flash with a warning:don’t screw with her. “I didn’t know you guys were . . .dating.”
“We’re not,” Cadence blurts out, and damn if that doesn’t chip off a little piece of my ego. “We were just going to have a friendly dinner at the Tavern. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
The fuck he is.
“I’m meeting Charlotte.” He slants me another look. “And if we don’t step on it, I’ll be late.”
I think I’ve blown the date completely, but then Cadence turns to me. “How about I call Alma? Four’s a better number than three.”
My pared ego reshapes and solidifies.
“Unless you wanted time alone with your brother?” Her gaze pulls me in like undertow.
I check myself from holleringhell, no, not wanting to reek of desperation, a sentiment that is oh-so-new-and-unwelcome.
“If I’m alone with him, he’ll sense something’s up, so definitely call up your friend.” Then I add, “I need to get him out of town. Maybe we can get him drunk enough to board a train back to Marseille before daybreak.”
Already, we’re in sight of the station. I can see the glowing white letters spelling outGARE, like specters in the Brumian mist.
A handful of minutes later, we’re standing in front of the building.
“Your stop,” Adrien announces.
I peel off. Even though I’m not expecting Cadence to follow, she does.
“Cadence, I promised Rainier I’d walk you to your front door.”
She shoots Adrien a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. I’m with Slate.”
“Your father said—”
I tilt my head his way. “I didn’t think you were that type, Mercier.”
“What type?” Adrien says sourly.
“The type to ask ‘how high’ when someone says ‘jump.’”
Cadence narrows her eyes at me. “It’s called being responsible.” Under her breath, she adds, “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should go home.”
Panic flares in my chest. Even though the words don’t want to come out, I force them past my clenched teeth. “Sorry for jumping down your throat, Prof, but everyone always assumes I’m irresponsible, and it takes a toll.”
Adrien’s teeth stay clenched. I’m hoping his inner struggle comes from duty and not jealousy.
After another loaded minute, Cadence’s breath puffs out like Gaëlle’s dead husband’s ghost. “I’ll call Papa, so you’re off the hook, Adrien. Thanks for walking with us, and for worrying about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you.”
She smiles at him, and he holds her gaze for a beat too long.
“If you need anything, call me.” Adrien’s eyes cut to me. “And make sure she gets home all right.”
“Aye aye, Prof.”
