Our lips meet softly, quietly. There is no rush, no hunger clawing for more, only gentle, lingering kisses that steal my breath all the same. Intimate in a way that feels far more dangerous than anything frantic.
I think, fleetingly, that I could stay here forever. Curled into his arms. Kissing him like this until the world ends around us.
Then the carriage rattles.
The smooth roll gives way to the familiar grind of stone beneath wheels, the sound of hooves changing as they strike cobble instead of snow-packed earth.
The courtyard.
We have arrived.
Our frozen moment in time shatters as the sprites erupt outside, shrieking and shouting.
Reluctantly, Luceran and I pull apart, both of us turning toward the fogged windows, though it’s impossible to see anything through the frost and heat clinging to the glass.
“What are you doing?” a woman’s voice yells from outside. “Get out of my way, you annoying creatures!”
My eyes widen.
Atilia.
I scramble off Luceran’s lap in a flurry, sliding across the seat to the opposite side of the carriage. Adrenaline surges through me, and only then does the pain in my head slam back into place.
I look up to see Luceran exactly where I left him, utterly unbothered by his mother, who does not care much for me, standing just outside the carriage.
“Are you alright?” he asks through his grin. I see the glint of his canines and I am certain he is stifling a laugh.
I suck in a breath and glare at him, pressing my fingers to my temple just as the carriage door whips open.
Atilia’s assessing gaze sweeps over us.
Her gaze lingers on Luceran’s bare chest, the fur wrapped low around his waist. The way he subtly adjusts himself earns a scrunch of her nose, as if she has caught a sour smell. Then she looks at me, one hand braced at my temple, my cheeks burning a furious red.
She exhales a long, displeased sound. “Where have you been, Luceran?”
He pushes the loose fall of ivory hair back from his face and slumps in the seat. “On private business,” he replies coolly. “Business I do not need to explain.” His eyes narrow. “What areyoudoing here? I was not expecting to see you until next week.”
Her expression hardens, her brow dipping so sharply it looks almost painful. “Someone needed to remain behind to ensure things were handled properly,” she snaps. “The Aurevault, for one, unless you’ve forgotten it entirely.”
Her eyes slide pointedly toward me.
“As distracted as you’ve been with yourprivate business.”
Luceran rolls his shoulders once, the muscles of his back flexing. “I am grateful for your help,” he says flatly, “if that is what you wish to hear.”
“It is,” she replies without hesitation. “But it is not the only matter I have been forced to address in your absence.”
She lifts a folded piece of parchment and gives it an abrupt flick. “Word from House Taramethos.”
Luceran’s chin lifts at once. He fists the fur around his waist and rises to his feet, ducking his head as he steps down from the carriage and takes the letter from Atilia’s hand. He does not look back at me. I do not expect him to.
Whatever happened at the inn, in the barn, even here in this carriage, has not altered what we are. A Fae and a human. There can be no looks. No yearning. Nothing but distance in the clear light of day.
So he turns without a word and starts up the stone steps toward the castle.
He never once glances over his shoulder.
Atilia tilts her head, as if she can hear the riot of thoughts crashing through my mind.
