She turned to face the crowded room again. Repressing her feelings felt much easier if she didn’t have to stare down the source of them. “Yes, Toran?”
“I—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry for last night. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have…”
“Shouldn’t have fucked me then told me you could never love me?”
He shifted nervously beside her. She refused to turn toward him again.
“No, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” The sigh that came from his lips was heavy enough to move her. “The truth is, while I’m not over Loriana, you make me feel more alive than I have ever felt. Even compared to when I was with her. You brought me out of this dark place and made me realize I can love again. It might take some time, but with you at my side, my heart could heal.”
He turned to face her, and she stiffened. “I could love you, Nes, if you give me the chance. I don’t want to lose you. Please stay. Stay in Gadore with me.”
Love.
He could love her.
Toran’s words were everything she wanted—everything her father wanted for her—and everything she’d always thought she could never have. But Toran was here, offering them to her and proving her wrong. Proving she could have his love if she wanted it. And, oh, how she wanted it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the desperation in his gaze. That one look was all it took for her to give in. She turned back to him. “I want that,” she whispered, her heart gaining back its strength—that hole slowly closing—with every word, every truth leaving her lips, readying to sweep her away once again. “I want to stay. I want you.”
He smiled softly. “I want you, too.”
He leaned down slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back. She didn’t.
When his lips brushed hers, they were gentle. Unlike the frenzy of the night before, this kiss was calm and hopeful.
He pulled away before she was ready for it to end. She reached for him again, but he stepped beyond her grasp. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later,” he admonished her.
Dropping her hands back to her sides, she nodded. Though she knew the world was against them—against her—they would find a way.
“Right now, we have other things to focus on.” He asked, “Everything set?”
“Genna’s been upstairs since this afternoon. We’re ready.”
“Good,” he said. Then, after a pause, “I hope this works.”
“Me too.”
She gestured for Toran to take an empty seat at the nearest game table while she settled into the one beside him. It wouldn’t do well for them to stand around letting their nerves build.
Nes rolled her head around her neck, the crack lost to the chatter filling the room, and drew a card. The tambourines clattered and Toran’s head snapped to the door. Members of Mikaud’s old legion filed inside.
Grabbing his attention, she laid her hand on the one Toran rested atop the table. He jumped, snatching his hand away, and she tried not to be insulted by his reaction. He turned back to the table and gave her an apologetic look.
“Focus on the game,” she whispered. “I’ve got the door.”
They kept playing. She felt her magic knock against her ribs, slow and rhythmic, as if it were trying to play a tune with her body. She closed her eyes and bit down a sigh. She shouldn’t have let so much time lapse since visiting the estuary. She needed the relief drowning a bit of her magic brought. And her magic needed the reminder that came with it—she was the one in control. Right now, her resistance was waning, and the magic knew it.
She pulled out her flask and downed half its contents. But her magic seemed to revel in the challenge the seawater brought, slithering along with the blood in her veins, picking up speed. She bit her tongue and clamped down on the magic. She couldn’t risk her hold slipping. Not here, not when she was so close.
The door banged open, and more guards flooded in. All men. All rowdy with the possibilities of excitement, booze, and money.
She flipped a gadot between her fingers, the gold shiny and new. It was their only giveaway. She squeezed the bright gadot against herpalm. It warmed there, and her pulse jumped. She felt the magic inside her pique with interest. She dropped the gadot back onto the table.
The night slunk along. The waitresses in their feathered bodices flitted about the tables per usual, carrying drinks to the guards and forcing laughs.
The more games Nes won, the more the pile of magic gadots in front of her grew, the stench of the coin making her nose itch. She tried not to touch them, not wanting to excite the already volatile magic inside her. But the longer the night went on, the more guards showed up. And the more guards, the more of Genna’s gadots were put in play.
She felt it the moment the last gadot joined the ruckus—the finality of all the magic Phineas had given her coming together again. The room reeked of metal and snow. This was it.
