Lose my brilliance. Lose myself. Or become one of them.
Revive that man from the portrait, that Alixsander Alesso. Corvin’s brother, murdered then frozen for well over a century—and save them…all?
Lux allowed her eyes to drift shut. All she saw was Shaw. Standing in the doorway.Draped in moonlight and fine clothes. An expression so intense, she’d nearly died upon seeing it.
He washere. In Mothlock. She did not know where. If they’d sequestered him for questioning or lavished him as a proper investor. If he were locked away somewhere or ensconced within a bed as large as hers. It’d better be the latter—for the collectors’ sakes. She wanted to find him—would find him—only she didn’t quite know how to start. How horrible was she that she’d not already begun, that she felt limp as a dish rag, her body and mind wrung dry?
“Lucena Thorn, we are a selfish beast, doing nothing for anyone except to save ourselves.”
Lux groaned aloud, the barbs sinking sure as any truth into her head. A soft creak sounded outside the washroom. She couldn’t be bothered to raise her head, but she did tilt toward the sound. Soft candlelight and hearth-fire were all that lit her bedchamber; the deeper shadows revealed nothing. When she looked back to the corner of the washroom, the wraith was still bent and twisted as before.
When it cackled, she covered her ears. But she couldn’t block it out. Same as it didn’t block out a second creak. This time, much louder.
“Hello?” Her voice emerged, fragile and frightened. She hadn’t meant for it to and remedied it immediately. “Tell me who is there this instant!”
Her hands were still clamped tight to her ears when he moved into the doorway.
Saints above.
Lux drank him in. From the disarray of tawny waves atop his head, to his ruined, blood-soaked shirt and fine, black boots. His gaze seared her in return. “You…” she whispered—and promptly burst into tears.
Fabric sank into the water, wrapping her up. In the next breath, his hands were beneath her underarms and hauling her upward, a sopping wet robe against her bare legs. His forehead pressed to hers before his arms came around her, crushing her to him. Lux’s nose buried in the familiar hollow of his throat; her breaths filled with his scent.
When his thumb stroked her skin, she could hardly bear it. Her body flushed with a warmth she’d already forgotten the feel of.
“It’s all right, love. I’ve got you.”
She released an inadvertent gasp when he reached behind her knees. He lifted her up and over the rim.
“Shaw,” she murmured against his chest. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.” Her head was tucked beneath his jaw, and she decided it would never leave that space.
His fingers rose to grip her chin, then they swept back into her hair. He drew her closer until their brows touched once more. Her tears flowed freely; she could feel them mingling with the leftover bathwater, dripping from her jaw.
And that horrible, hollowed part of her chest…filled.
“You’re not dreaming, and thank fate for it. I’d never been so scared in all my life.” He pulled back. His lips pressed to her damp temple. He did the same to the other side. “They swore they would save you. If they hadn’t—”
“Enough,” she said, her voice thick. “It didn’t happen.”
There was a time in her life when she never would have dreamt of crying in front of anyone, let alone this boy. Now here she stood, sobbing in his arms, and she’d never felt more cared for. More—
Her thoughts refused to go any farther in that direction. “How did you find me?”
“Since it’s late and I watched you nearly die against me, I’ll save you the long version and say I will always find you.”
Lux pressed her eyes closed, sending a new rush of tears down her cheeks. “Maybe I shouldn’t ever have left.”
“What are you saying? Of course you should have. But I should have gone with you.”
“I should have asked you.”
“I should have followed you when you didn’t.”
Weak as it was, a small laugh left her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
There was so much—too much—that needed to be shared. Lux could feel the events since her departure from Ghadra stacking themselves in order to be told. But she found she couldn’t speak them.
It wasn’t like with Riselda, where her heart had refused to fully trust her supposed aunt and her tongue had stilled in response. This was a wish for peace. A sensation she’d forgotten. All she wanted to do was pull a nightgown over her head, haul thick stockings on her feet, and crawl into bed with Shaw’s arms wrapped around her just like this. To feelwarm.
