“I’d hate to be on the wrong end of that blade,” a voice says from the shadows.
Whirling around, my back to the railing, I find myself facing Meredy as she emerges from the spot where she was apparently leaning against the side of the building. “I was just, uh...” I hastily point my sword toward the ground, fumbling for an explanation.
“You’re dedicated to your training, like I am to mine,” Meredy says, stepping closer. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you practice, remember? Nor the first time neither of us can sleep.”
My shoulders relax with her understanding.
“By the way, what’s that song you were humming? I like it.” She smiles. “It reminds me of this play I saw one summer—”
“The Black Violet, right?” I shake my head at myself as she nods enthusiastically. I can’t believe she’s got me rattling off the names of plays. Stranger still, I even like the sound of some of them. Setting my sword down, I offer her my hand. “This is an excellent song for dancing. Shall we?”
Meredy doesn’t move, her face falling slightly. “Oh, no. I can’t dance.”
“Can’t?” I press, feeling emboldened by the dark and the quiet. “Or don’t like to?”
“Don’t like to,” she confesses after a moment. “It’s awkward. I hate it. I don’t know what to do with my arms, my feet, or even where to look.”
Still, I keep my hand extended. Dancing comes as naturally to me as caring for animals does to Meredy. I have sword fighting to thank for that. “You’ll love it when you’re with me. I promise.” As she hesitates, I press, “One dance. Just one. What could it hurt?”
Slowly, like she’s afraid I might bite, she reaches for my hand. I close my fingers over hers and look a question at her. When she nods, I pull her against me. Then, singing the song I was humming earlier, I guide Meredy around our balcony dance floor, sweeping her through patches of moonlight like we’re on a stage. At first, her fingers are rigid where they grip my waist, but the longer we dance, the more she relaxes, even leaning into me.
“You have a beautiful voice. Have you ever thought about acting in a—?”
“Don’t say it,” I growl, but playfully, before picking up the tune where I left off.
Evander and I used to dance to this song all the time. Dancingto it with Meredy should feel like a betrayal, but somehow it doesn’t. What would Evander say if he could see me now? That it’s too soon? Over a year ago, we agreed we’d have to love again to go on living if something happened to one of us, thanks to the nature of our job. What I feel for Meredy, though, has come on swift and strong and sudden. But it feels too right for me to shy away just because I’m afraid of the things others might say. Let them talk.
As Meredy gets bolder, spinning me around with a gleam in her eyes, I realize why. We have our own rhythm. It’s not the same as the one I shared with Evander, but I like it just as much—Meredy and me, making up a new dance as we go along, feeling for each other’s breaths, for each slight hesitation, anticipating each other’s every step so that we move as one.
For the first time, as I pull her closer, there’s no one—not even Evander—standing between us. No one to keep us apart. And left to ourselves, we fit together just right.
Still, that doesn’t change how stubborn she is. Too stubborn, too much like me. How many days, hours even, would go by before we had an argument where neither of us was willing to compromise? And I can’t forget, her mother is locked up in the Wyldings’ palace dungeon for trying to kill me. We’re both essentially orphans now. What kind of life would we have together?
One where we make the rules. One where the only limitations are the ones we define. One where our family is made up entirely of people we choose.
As she smiles at me, wanting to spin me around again, the part of me that wants this—wantsher—grows louder than my doubts. There are plenty of reasons we shouldn’t work. But this spark in my chest, this thing that flares to life whenever I’m around her and keeps getting brighter, says otherwise.
I loved Evander. I still do. But being around Meredy has made me realize there’s enough room in my heart for someone else without erasing him.
I want tolive, and part of living means loving again. Maybe Meredy is the person I should give my heart to. Maybe she isn’t. All I know for sure is that I want to find out. I just have to find the right words to ask if that’s what she wants, too.
Meredy leans closer, laying her head on my shoulder. I forget to keep singing, but we don’t break our embrace.
V
Now having realized we aren’t a bunch of thieves and murderers, the people of Sarral are desperate to apologize for our less-than-warm reception to their kingdom.
And lucky for them, the fragrant, sweet waffles made by one of the weather workers who tried to kill us are so good, they almost make up for our brush with death. When Azelie drizzles some cardamom-vanilla syrup on them for me, I decide I wouldn’t mind staying in Glia Raal a while if I didn’t have so many other places to see.
Of course, how long we stay is entirely up to how quickly the carpenters can fix theParadise. And since I’ve seen enough healing houses to last me a lifetime, we’re moving to a nearby boarding house after breakfast.
As we crowd the healers’ long dining table at the back of the house, which I’m told is usually reserved for celebrations among the staff, Lysander shoves his shaggy head between me and Kasmira. Before I can swallow the giant bite of food I just took, Lysander licks my half-eaten stack of waffles.
I laugh and start to choke as Meredy groans. “He never did this sort of thing in Lorness!”
Kasmira thumps me on the back with a fist, which only makes me laugh harder. Shaking her head at Meredy, she says, “I’m gonna guess that’s because there weren’t any waffles in Lorness.”
“Here, Lysander.” Suddenly feeling cheerful myself, I offer him the top waffle off the dwindling stack.
