He followed, flicking back his half cloak to free his arms. I curtsied, the goodbye on my lips, but he gently grabbed my hand and tugged me upright.
“Will you come to my estate at the full moon?” Pleading roughened his smooth tone.
I blinked. “I believe Lord Montag has already arranged I attend with him, according to Madame Searah.”
The gold in his eyes flashed. “Is that what you want?”
My hand warmed his cool skin, engulfed within his palm, and I tried again to quantify his expression. There was a tightness in his mouth that had not been there a moment ago. “It does not matter what I want.”
“It does,” he said, voice a harsh whisper. “It matters greatly what you want, Mademoiselle Valois.”
A stone lodged itself in my throat. Never in all my life hadwhat I wanted mattered. Truly I did not know the meaning of the words. “In another life perhaps.”
Lord Azad crouched until we were eye level, his free hand rising between us before fisting and falling away. “And in that life, what is it you would want?”
To accept your offer of a private session, I thought.To join you at your estate as your guest and dance in your arms. To know you as I know no other.
I did not say the words, but his eyes danced across my face and his hand tentatively lifted again. Cool fingertips caressed my jaw and, against my better judgment, I leaned into the touch, just as I had that night on his terrace. His thumb brushed my bottom lip, drawing it down ever so slightly. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, pulse quickening in my belly, and my core throbbed in time with it.
“Tomorrow and the next,” he breathed in Kysoi, drew away and pulled my knuckles to his mouth. The kiss lingered against my skin, eyes burning as he gazed into mine.
“Tomorrow and the next,” I answered, finishing the intimate goodbye that felt righter than any other.
We lingered for a moment longer in our silent bubble before the bell on the door chimed. Lord Azad released my hand, bowing low, and vanished into the night.
I ignored the spark in my eyes and the trembling of my hands as, savoring his scent on my clothes, I slid onto the bench and began the song all over again.
Chapter Ten
More and more I found myself thinking of my maker.
In the first centuries he’d gone to ground I’d tried my hardest not to. For half a millennium I’d refused to say his name. In many ways, I’d believed I’d failed him as a fledgling—failed to understand his teachings, his wisdom, the divine connection he held with his creator.
Seth had been my voice of caution when passion overtook me, my voice of reason when I lost myself within my melancholy. I wondered what he would say to me now in that low, musical voice of his. If he would wrap his arm around my shoulder as if I was merely a boy and tell me to trust all would be well. There were times when I went to my daylight rest I was sure I was awake and walking with him through the deep forests to the north.
Sleeping during the day was a skill I’d taught myself. For those made by Seth, the sun was an irritant, but not deadly in the way it was for those made in the next generations. Now I had the same daytime visions as most of my kind, succumbing to the paralytic sleep to refresh my mind and powers. Seth and I never spoke in those dreams, but I swore I woke with his scent surrounding me before it vanished in the dusk.
But Seth was not here and I was not sure if he would everrise again. And as I watched Mademoiselle Valois within my crowded ballroom, hand tucked around the arm of Lord Montag, I wished more than ever before he was, if only to push me to be brave.
After that night at Cavera lan Aiyah I had been tempted to send the pianoforte to Jules for Mademoiselle Valois’ parlor in the den. Jules had predictably cautioned me against such a gesture, and instead I’d merely sent another bouquet ofasivaflowers I’d picked from my garden. Something to remind her that I was still there, that even if she did not realize it, I waited for her.
Jules was somewhere in the ballroom as well, keeping an eye on both her givers in attendance tonight. But I did not look for her. Instead, I scanned the crowd for Mateo. He and his siblings were here, though they’d caused quite the fuss as they’d arrived, as they always did. Henry and Gabrielle were on the dance floor, gazing into each other’s eyes as if there was nothing else in the world but them. Callum stood at the edge of the dais as usual, refusing the attention of any wayward female or frightened ancient and nursing a goblet of synthetic blood.
Mateo, come,I sent out through the crowd, trusting my magic to find its intended recipient.
Callum turned toward me with a brow raised, his blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck. “Who is it you search for, Uncle? I felt your summons.”
It was easy to forget what power Callum hid beneath his arrogant expression and sarcastic bite.
“Me,” Mateo said, appearing beside his brother and grabbing Callum’s goblet to drain it. He pulled a face while handing it back. But before I could say anything, Mateo bowed once and slipped through the crowd.
Where are you going?I pressed.
To give you what you want,he answered, his humor audible even in his mind.
A few moments later he was at Lord Montag’s side, slapping him on the back heartily before bowing low to Mademoiselle Valois. There was an exchange between the two males and suddenly Lord Montag was nodding enthusiastically and turning to kiss the witch’s knuckles. My teeth ground together as he left her unaccompanied in the ballroom until Jules appeared at her elbow.
But Mademoiselle Valois did not look upset—if anything she appeared relieved. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, before making my way down the dais and into the crowd. There was a cacophony of greetings from immortals desperate for a moment of my time as I passed. But I ignored them, my attention fixed on the curve of a pale throat, a blonde ringlet fallen from her bun and brushing her collarbone.
