“Because you and I both know there’s no universe in which this works out between us. There’s no happy ending.”
“I don’t care about a happy ending,” Zaria said fiercely. “I’m only asking for right now.”
His thumb stroked her cheek, and if she hadn’t already lost all semblance of rational thought, she might have been embarrassed by how hot her skin was. Instead, she was only determined. Focused. Onhim.
“Don’t make me call you a coward again,” she whispered.
He didn’t. He didn’t make her say another word, in fact. He only yanked her body into his, letting her melt against his chest as his mouth claimed hers.
Zaria could feel it at once—the way in which this kiss was different. It was still intense but less aggressive, unburdened by resentment and lacking the bitterness of regret. This, she thought as he spun her away from the balcony, was Kane at his least guarded. She could feel the truth of everything he’d said in the heat of his touch, the gentle score of his teeth on her lower lip. He kissed her like it was his sole purpose. Like everything that had come before this was inconsequential. Like he was desperate to prove it to her.
Zaria didn’t need convincing. She clung to Kane as if separating might kill them both. The memory of his body against hers paled next to the real thing. His hands found her hips as her arms twined around his neck, pulling his face down to hers. It was seamless, somehow. Instinctive. Her head spun, and were it not for her feet on the ground, she wouldn’t have known which way was up.
There’s no happy ending, Kane had said, and perhaps he was right. What Zaria had said, though, was just as true: She didn’t care. They could have filled the Crystal Palace with all the reasons they weren’t good for each other, each displayed in stark clarity to those looking on, but she didn’t care, she didn’tcare.
And as Kane lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, Zaria thought that if the world began to burn at this very minute, she wouldn’t have cared much about that, either.
ZARIA
The sky outside Mansion House was dark as pitch.
Rain fell in a thin sheet, a distant rumble of thunder suggesting a storm might follow. Zaria ducked her head against the onslaught, lifting her shoulders to her ears. Jules was already inside, as he had been for the better part of the afternoon, helping the staff set up for tonight’s meeting. Based on what he’d told them the other day, the Royal Commission’s meetings had become increasingly private and fraught with tension. This could be explained by the ongoing appearances of the strange devices, of course, but Zaria hoped it was something more. She hoped that whatever cracks existed in the commission were about to show.
She, Kane, and Fletcher were huddled against the rear exterior of the building, a few paces away from the door Jules had identified as leading into the kitchens. Fletcher’s face was contorted in a scowl as he squinted against the rain. Kane, on the other hand, didn’t appearto notice it at all. He leaned calmly against the stone wall, hands in his coat pockets, gaze trained on the ground in a way that suggested he wasn’t seeing it. Even wet, he was infuriatingly handsome, the rain darkening his hair to black. As Zaria watched, a single drop tracked a line down the side of his face, catching on his jaw and disappearing into the collar of his shirt.
They hadn’t spoken about the previous evening, which was a relief, since Zaria wasn’t sure what to say. Upon returning to her rooms, she’d fallen asleep surprisingly quickly, but woke with the sun and lay motionless for several hours, wondering what the hell she’d been thinking. It was as though she’d been a different version of herself last night. A version who’d thrown logic by the wayside and was ruled solely by desire for a boy she should not—couldnot—want.
Perhaps that was why she’d tried so hard to detest him. Because somehow, deep down, she knew the alternative would break them both. Her plan had always been to leave London. Even if Kane hadn’t been who he was, that fact would have held true. But Kane was the kingpin of the dark market, the most feared man in Devil’s Acre, and Zariacaredabout him. She didn’t know where to put those feelings now. They sat in her chest like a weight, heavier than ever after what had transpired last night. She felt braced for impact. Braced for the inevitable, painful moment when reality finally sank in.
He’s obsessed with you, Jules had told her.
She hadn’t believed it. Not then.
A soft knock sounded from the door behind them, barely audible over the patter of rain. Two sets of triplets, just as they’d decided beforehand. It jolted Zaria out of her reverie, and she jerked her gaze from Kane right as his head snapped up. Given that he was nearest the door, he returned the knock. It opened a heartbeat later to reveal Jules’s harried expression.
“Quick,” he hissed through his teeth, glancing in either direction before moving aside. “The commission members have started arriving.”
Kane nodded, ducking inside, and Zaria followed. They’d decided in the end that they would both enter the building with Jules—mainly because Kane refused not to come, despite the fact that he was still visibly in pain from the last lingering effects of the alchemological dart. Meanwhile, Fletcher would remain outside the door to ensure they had a safe escape. Zaria had offered to observe the meeting alone, but Kane wouldn’t hear of it. He needed to see the commission members interact for himself, he’d claimed.
Zaria might have been imagining things, but it seemed like the tension between Kane and Jules was thicker than ever, which only added to her confusing emotions. God, she hoped they could discern who the Curator was today. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could sever the bond between herself and Kane before it got any harder to do so.
She balked at the thought, biting her lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood.
“Be careful,” Fletcher said, peering at them through the crack in the door. Water beaded on his forehead and clung to his eyelashes. He appeared to be speaking directly to Kane, who was rather pale. Zaria wondered if he’d slept, or if he’d lain awake with regret pulsing through his veins.
Kane gave an easy grin. “You, too.”
With that, the door snicked shut between them.
Mansion House wasn’t as grand as Zaria had expected, but admittedly they were only in a storage closet. She could hear the urgent voices of staff in the next room, accompanied by the telltale clinking of metal and glassware. Her heart began to beat faster atthe prospect of navigating the area, but Jules inclined his head at the stairwell to their left.
“That leads to the main-floor hallway,” he whispered. “The meeting room branches right off it. You’ll know when you’ve reached the right place—the doors are open.”
Kane nodded. If Zaria hadn’t known better, she would have thought him perfectly confident, but there was a tightness around his eyes she didn’t think was borne only of exhaustion. “Did you manage to get onto serving duty?” he asked Jules.
“Yeah. I’ll be standing in the dining hall for most of the evening, in case a rich man needs something.” Jules glanced toward the ceiling with a disgruntled sigh. “In fact, I’d better get there before someone wonders where I wandered off to.” Zaria expected him to wish her luck, but instead Jules glared meaningfully at Kane, extending an index finger. “Donotlet anything happen to her.”
Kane’s eyes flashed, his lip curling back. “Never.”
