“I’ve faced elder demons, infernal bureaucrats, and a particularly aggressive basilisk in Constantinople. Your mother can’t be worse.”
“You haven’t met her.”
“I’m intrigued by the challenge.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “Besides, someone needs to be there to remind you that you’re extraordinary, regardless of her opinion.”
Extraordinary.
No one’s ever called me that. Talented, yes. Disciplined, certainly. Accomplished, in carefully measured terms. But never extraordinary.
“Okay,” I say.
His eyebrows rise. “Okay?”
“Yes. Okay. Come to the party with me.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated just because I offered?—”
“Mal.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m asking you. Not because you offered, but because I want you there.”
Something shifts in his expression. Something raw and unguarded, a flicker of emotion so intense it takes my breath away.
And then I notice the bracelet. The leather cord with its seven stones, five of them now gleaming ruby-red in the afternoon light.Five.I count again, certain I must be wrong. There were four yesterday. Four rubies, three black stones. But now...
“Mal.”
He follows my gaze, and his jaw tightens.
“I know,” he says quietly.
“That’s five.”
“I know.”
“When I asked you to come to my mother’s party it counted as an invitation?”
“Apparently.”
I should be scared. We’re past the halfway point now, five of seven conditions met, and the contract approaching its culmination with every casual request I make. But all I feel is a strange sort of rightness, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.
“Two more,” I say.
“Two more.”
“And then?”
He meets my eyes. In the afternoon light, I can see the faint threads of red in his irises, the subtle tells of his nature that I’d missed for so long.
“And then we find out what the contract actually requires.” His voice is steady, but I hear the fear underneath. “I know I’ve been avoiding the full explanation. I know you have questions. But some of this I genuinely don’t know.” His grip on my hand tightens. “Whatever the final terms are, I won’t let them hurt you. I need you to know that. If completing the contract means?—”
“Stop.” I step closer, close enough to feel the heat of his body. “We’ll figure it out together. Isn’t that what partners do?”
“Partners.” He says the word like it’s precious, like it’s something to be protected.
“Dance partners. Life partners.” I shrug. “Whatever we are.”
“Whatever we are,” he echoes.
The silence stretches between us, warm and full of possibility. Then his expression shifts, and the familiar gleam returns to his eyes.
