“You’re absolutely disgusting,” I say to her with affection.
“You know it, and you love it.”
And she’s right. I never would have thought it was possible when I met her, but she’s basically my best friend now.
We share a carriage from the palace to a theatre north of the palace market. It’s an older building, but the inside has been recently redone. The seats and balconies are made from Nithyrian wood, with cushions and accents in the rich reds and blues Ronan seems to prefer.
If the walls weren’t trimmed with gold, I would have suspected he oversaw the renovations himself.
Quinn leads me up a series of staircases to the royal box at the top. She has the guards get her father first.
“Come on, old man,” she says to him, looping her arm with his. “We need your seat.”
He takes a moment to look at me before realizing what she’s saying. “Oh. I suppose you do,” he says in his usual tone of boredom and disdain.
Quinn shoots me an approving look. “Go get him, girl.”
I take a deep, steadying breath before I turn the doorknob and enter the royal box.
It’s a small balcony at the top of the theatre, covered on top with a canopy of red velvet curtains and rich golden tassels. Though it looks like it could seat about eight comfortably, only two seats have been placed within it.
Ronan is sitting in one of them with his back to me. One leg is crossed over his lap, resting on his opposite knee. He’s leaning back, his head tilted to the side as if whatever he’s about to see holds no interest for him. As if his mind is somewhere else entirely.
I watch the tap of his fingers on the arm of his chair cease when he senses me. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn or get up.
I walk around the side of the other chair. He’s so…beautiful. Gods, he’s just beautiful. Honestly, this entire festival is pointless. The best tribute to Kerensa is sitting right here.
Though, like the time I saw him at the arena after we’d been apart for a while, he looks a bit rough around the edges.
I hope that isn’t because of me. But if it is, at least it’ll be over soon.
“Is this seat taken?” I say. I’m so nervous he’ll say no that I’m shaking.
“I—” He stares at me for a long while, drinking me in. Then he looks back at the door and shakes his head. Sorry, Cyrus. “Not anymore.”
I smile lightly as I sit down beside him, my heart fluttering in my chest.
Damn, it feels good to be here. I can smell that spicy scent coming off of him, and it’s like coming home again.
“Is this real?” he whispers. He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on me.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve made my choice.” I reach into his lap and take his hand, and a powerful reverberation of feeling pulses through me. Pulses through us.
Want, need, longing. Desire.
“And everything I told you? Everything I did?” He pushes his words through the overwhelming feelings.
I wait for it to pass before I turn in my seat to face him. “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” He reaches for me, taking my face in his hand, and I thrill at his touch. “It doesn’t make me want you any less.” I kiss his palm, and he shivers.
“Gods, Sylvie,” he whispers. He gestures to the stage. “Are you sure you want to see this?”
“You can’t let them down,” I say. This might be the highlight of their lives, performing for the king. “And besides.” I point to the sides of the box. No one in the room can see below about chest height. “No one needs to know what we do in the shadows.”
He groans, and it sends another incredible pulse between us. “We have a few minutes before they start. Can I show you this beautiful doorknob?” He stands and points to the darkened back of the box where the door is.
If we go back there now, it’ll look like we’ve just stepped outside for a minute.
“Please do,” I say.
