Before she could register what he was doing, he was in front of her, a hand gently cupping the back of her neck and his lips pressing to her forehead. It was her turn to freeze, entirely unsure of how to react. But after a moment, she leaned into his touch. It felt natural to be like this with him.
After a long moment, he pulled back but didn’t move away, resting his brow on hers. She dared a glance at him, finding his eyes closed.
“It’s not because I don’t want…” He shuddered, and she shivered as his thumb brushed against the side of her ear, the touch delicate. “But nothing about this is simple, nor is it safe, even if we just remain friends. I’m selfish enough that I will keep coming back, but things need to remain as they are.”
She shut her eyes too, lifting her hand and ghosting her fingers across the curve of his high cheekbones, relishing the small catch of his breath. “I understand you want to protect me, but who looks after you?”
He didn’t respond, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her, the amber-gold soft, but there all the same. His nose nudged against hers, and she hardly dared to breathe when he brushed his lips over hers.
“No one,” he whispered against her mouth before pulling away.
She felt immediately unbalanced at the loss of his presence. It was as if her whole life had been lived in halves, and she just hadn’t realized it until this moment.
By the time she had recovered, he was already atop Varax, readying to take off. He always flew away, out of her sight, before he conjured up the portal.
“Why don’t you just portal from right here?” she called.
Even from atop Varax’s enormous back, she could see his lips curve.Perhaps someday, I will show you.
It wasn’t until after they were gone that she realized how sad his smile had been.
Chapter
Five
This gift is a curse. I am constantly in a room made of mirrors, and I do not know which reflection is showing me the truth. Ghosts haunt my dreams, taunting me. I think I will be a ghost too. I see her, Sora, my lost friend, drifting empty-eyed down the palace halls after the princess. I do not call her name. I do not even catch her eye. Perhaps I will only watch now. Fate may use me, but I will never again intervene.
—Lady Anabeth, Royal Scribe’s Apprentice, D’anna
Imeria ledNya through the dim tunnels, her hand lightly atop Nya’s forearm to keep her from tripping, given her vision was slightly warped from the veil.
“Just a little further,” she murmured.
Nya ignored the way her throat closed at the words, instead forcing herself to strangle out, “Who exactly will be performing the rites?”
“We have a handful of priestesses who defected here,” Imeria said. “Aside from the principals themselves, they most understand the importance of Morgen taking the throne. But many of them fear Sol, so only the bravest of them left.”
Nya didn’t ask about what this ‘importance’ meant. Both Morgen and Imeria had alluded to it several times in the mere hours she had been here, but it was obvious neither were going to tell her just because she asked. Information was clearly doled out based on importance and trust here, and, evidently, she was given neither of those things beyond her place as a pawn.
She tried not to let that sting. Once, in all her naivety, she had assumed she knew more about Morgen than most did. Perhaps she’d even thought that she knew him the best of anyone.
Those were the assumptions of a cloistered child.
Imeria halted suddenly, and Nya stumbled, nearly falling on her face before a strong hand caught her arm. Even without seeing him clearly, she knew immediately it was Morgen. He had a presence that was far too charged with magic to be anyone else.
When she did look at him, she set her jaw, an attempted block against her own feelings that mostly failed.
His hair was completely unbound now, falling into his kohl-lined eyes, and he wore what she thought might’ve been some sort of ceremonial robe that left his chest bare. She had seen him without a shirt a handful of times before, and though it had always elicited a reaction, she had neverhatedthe way her body responded to it as much as she did now.
Especially as she saw the simple iron-hued circlet resting at the crown of his head.
He truly thought he was a king.
“You don’t need to do this,” she said in a low voice, the smell of incense and smoke permeating her nostrils.
His jaw flexed, and for a moment, he said nothing, simply holding her hard gaze. A tiny spark of hope lit inside her, but it was smothered the second he let go of her arm and said, “Follow me.”
She took a deep, steadying breath. They were really doing this then.
