His mouth twitches. “Don’t pretend like you’re not looking forward to it.”
I am. Maybe too much.
We wait until Dav and Tarek pass by this final row of tents on the edge of camp before slipping through the silk curtain. Declan props what’s left of the shattered door back into its frame and pulls the silks into place until the tent looks like all the others lining the dunes. Together, we step into the shimmer and heat of the Kingdom of Wands—our bodies still humming with magick, our lips still irritatingly, inconveniently unkissed, and another performance looming.
Amanda Ward, Story Witch. Declan Thorne,Brooding Assistant. Once more returning to the stage for another night of terrible acting, questionable scripts, and the ever-present hope we don’t get burned alive.
But something’s shifted. And I don’t know if it’s in the magick…
Or in me.
Fifteen
The sun is barely up when the commotion outside the tent pulls me from a dream so sweet I try to fall back into it—something about warmth, safety, a hand tracing lazy circles over my hip.
I blink through the disorienting moment between asleep and awake to realize I’m staring at the back of Declan’s head. His dark hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck, mussed from sleep. The sheet is settled across his waist, revealing his naked back. At some point in the night, I must’ve reached for him, because my arm is draped over him, my hand pinned to his chest beneath his.
He’s heavy and warm and solid. My fingers twitch, brushing through the coarse hair on his chest, and I breathe him in—salt, smoke, and spice. I want to nuzzle closer, to stay like this a little longer, to pretend the day hasn’t already begun.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi,” I manage, which comes out more like a squeak than an actual word.
He rolls over to face me, and suddenly we’re eye to eye, the space between us small enough that I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips.
He shifts closer, his voice a lazy murmur. “You talk in your sleep, you know.”
My stomach flips. “What did I say?”
“Something about a donkey parade.”
I laugh and the sound catches between us. “Fennel’s infiltrated my subconscious.”
Morning light spills across the sheets from the narrow crack between the door flaps, cutting a bright stripe over the tangled linens. The beam slides across my arm, then over the bare lines of Declan’s chest where my hand still rests. His heart beats steadily beneath my palm, grounding and dizzying all at once.
His fingers close gently around mine, and he brings my hand to his mouth. His lips brush my knuckles as he murmurs, “Today might be the day.”
The day I stop pretending not to want him. The day I finally tear down the wall between us.
“The day for what?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.
He smiles against my skin. “The day we get home.”
The words hit like cold water. I let my thoughts drift somewhere softer, somewhere dangerous and far from the only things that matter: finding Fortune, getting us back before this place or my feelings swallow me whole.
I pull my hand back and push myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
“Right.” I force the words past the lump in my throat. “And we can’t do that from bed.”
I move to the trunk and pull out another dress similar to all the others, light and silky and long. Declan stays in bed, watching me with that unreadable look that feels like it sees too much.
When we’re both dressed and braced to face the day, we push through the tent flaps and step into the sunlit bustle beyond.
The air is thick with the smell of roasting dates and spiced lamb. Fennel presses close to my side, his fur brushing my knees as we weave through the crowd with Declan and his “queen,” Cinder resting in his arms.
“What’s all this for?” I ask, glancing at the flurry of movement around us. Dancers practice synchronized steps in the sand, acrobats tumble through hoops soon to be set aflame, and young women sit alongside a newly constructed dais stringing together garlands of marigolds.
Cinder hisses and jumps from Declan’s hold as he stumbles back, narrowly avoiding two men hauling a massive, gilded throne draped in ribbons.
