“You look unbelievable,” he said, keeping her at a distance, as if he didn’t dare move any closer. “Impossible. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” His voice was strained, breathless.
“I don’t understand,” said Rinka. She was terribly worried. Something was definitely very wrong here, but she could not fathom what it was.
“I almost didn’t come here tonight,” said Idris. “I wasn’t sure I could handle it, not after today.”
“Today? What happened today?”
Idris adjusted his cufflinks, staring at them, unwilling to look at her as he spoke. “It was the way that you were with Ceri. The way that you listened to her, believed her, comforted her even when I wouldn’t. The way you took care of us both. You stayed with us and made sure we worked it out.”
“You’re not making sense,” said Rinka. “Did I overstep? Did you want privacy?”
“No,” said Idris. He sighed, turning away from her to look up at the manor. There was a nervous energy about him, something pent up inside that threatened to burst to the surface the longer they stood here. His shallow breaths raised and lowered hischest in a way that made Rinka worry he might faint. “I’m going mad. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say this.”
Rinka felt her pulse flutter. Did he want to end their arrangement early? Did something change?
Or could it be that there was something that had always been true that had been left unsaid? Something that could no longer be denied?
“I know what I said a few weeks ago about what this could be. A bit of fun, a bit of a game. Something light and easy. But it’s not that for me, not anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“Idris,” she said, closing the distance between them and taking his hand. “I want to ask my third question.”
He startled, but he didn’t pull away. “What?”
“My third question,” she said. “The third question you promised you’d answer truthfully. I’m ready to ask it.”
He swallowed, meeting her eye for half a moment. “Alright,” he said. “Ask away.”
She looked at him, and she could see the torture and the hunger and the longing, the last secret they shared begging to be revealed.
She dared herself to ask it.
“Is this real?”
He looked at her then, one eyebrow cocked in surprise. He was still for a long moment, his eyes studying her face, her neck, her shoulders. And then he reached out with his free hand and touched her arm on the sleeve. He stroked the delicate fabric, smiling slightly, perhaps remembering what he’d said about a similar dress their first night in the manor. Remembering the dream of it, the vision that haunted him night by night.
He moved then to graze the sequins on her waist, understanding their meaning. They were his, the smooth red beads so much like his scales, and she was his. Really, truly his.Not just for the summer. She had lied when she said it, had known it was a lie.
It wasn’t enough. The summer wasn’t enough.
Then he pulled her closer to him. He stroked her cheek delicately, tracing the line to her jaw and then once more to her lips. It wasn’t just a pattern of movement; it was a ritual. A ceremony in three parts. An offering in prayer at the altar of her body.
Rinka’s heart pounded, the pulse hammering in her ears. Her vision was in a tunnel, transfixed.
There was only him.
He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers, their eyes so close they could not focus.
“Gods, I hope so,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.
If the kiss in the rain had been a confession, this one was a revelation. The end of the mystery, the end of the games and the riddles and the secrets in the dark. This kiss was the truth laid bare.
And it was a demand for the closeness of skin on skin, the baring of everything, body and soul.
She followed him silently as he led her by the hand. As they walked through the moonlit gardens, there was a sudden boom in the distance and an explosion in the sky—fireworks.
They didn’t notice.
There was only this.
