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“Skirting?” he echoes. Slowly, he leans closer, the scent of burnt oranges and cedar trickling into the tight space. “Hardly. I’m simply admiring your methods. Setting traps in dead-end wings and luring pursuers into closets? Admirably subtle.”
The heat rises in my chest. “Is this a new pastime? Testing my patience?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “I’d very much like to test how patient you can be.”
I part my lips, ready to fire back, but the faint echo of footsteps steals my words before I can speak them. I clamp my hand over his mouth.
“Quiet,” I breathe, and beneath my touch his body falls still.
His breath brushes warm against my fingers, where they press too firmly against his jaw, and his kohl-smudged eyes sharpen. I grab the wrist of the hand holding his flame and shake it. I’m not sure whether the action extinguishes the flame or if he simply understands my intention. Whichever it is, the flame winks out and we’re plunged into darkness once more.
We wait in tense silence as the footfalls pass and pause at the end of the hall, before the person turns and heads away. Long after the sound of steps has faded, we still haven’t moved.
The air between us shifts. Narrows. Kallias doesn’t speak, doesn’t protest—not with words, at least. But there’s something in the way his body angles closer, lean and deliberate, that makes every hair on my skin prickle with awareness.
I release a slow breath, my hand starting to drop away, but then he moves.
His fingers brush my throat with a slow, deliberate pressure. They trace the line of the chain around my neck, his touch light but lingering. A spark shoots through my skin as his thumb finds the pendant’s clasp, and awareness flares alarmingly sharp through me.
“Kallias,” I whisper, a warning, though it trembles at its edges.
He doesn’t answer. The clasp clicks softly between his fingers, and the charm falls to the floor, stealing the magic tethered to it. There’s the telltale sensation of fine fabric sliding from my skin that confirms my features have returned to normal. But it’s not what makes me shiver.
Kallias’s fingers trail along my face, tracing the contours as if trying to memorize them through touch alone. His hand grazes my hair, now a cascade of curls in its natural state, a stark contrast to the sleek, straight locks of the goiteía charm’s disguise. The same hand curves around the base of my neck, pulling me closer.
“There you are,” he whispers.
“Kal—” I begin, but the heat of his breath skims my lips, silencing my protest.
“I honestly tried to follow through with that plan of yours, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
My stomach clenches at his words. “Why not?”
“I seem to crave another taste of poison,” he breathes, his lips brushing mine with every word. “It appears I’ve developed quite a liking for its flavor.”
My heart pounds erratically as I feel the pull of his words and the warmth of his nearness.
It never ends well, you know. These…attachments.
The king’s voice echoes in my mind, each word a cold, jarring strike of truth. What am I doing? The question pounds in my head, growing louder and more relentless than the echoes of his voice. Kallias is an ally—nothing more. I can’t afford distractions. I can’t afford wanting. There’s no room for soft edges while the Eagle hardens his plans and Aella’s trail cools with every heartbeat.
With trembling hands, I press a palm against his chest and force space between us. The cold air rushes in where his heat was, but I don’t stop to contemplate why it feels like a loss. Kallias doesn’t move as I kneel, my fingers desperately searching for my necklace. When I grasp it, I cling to it like a lifeline before slipping it back around my neck.
I pull the door open but hesitate, unable to resist glancing back. Half veiled in shadow, his figure is still, his expression impossible to decipher.
I leave quickly, but the taste of regret stays on my tongue, bitter and sharp, and I can’t decide if it’s his or mine.
Chapter 30
Nyssa
The canal is silent, save for the soft lap of water against the ferry’s hull and the rhythmic creak of the oars as Maxim rows. I sit at the bow, my hood drawn low over my face as I keep an eye on the banks, hunting for any sign of movement in the gloom between the glow of lanterns that hang from iron hooks.
The silence between us is easy, yet my thoughts swirl like the dark water beneath us.
I need to escape them. The king’s words, Kallias’s touch, the tightening knot of everything I can’t seem to untangle—it’s all too much, and I just…I miss Aella. I miss the way her presence would calm me, the way her rare, husky laughter felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. I miss having someone to talk to, someone who understood me without needing an explanation. I miss my best friend. My sister. The ache of her absence is a hollow, gnawing thing, and no matter how hard I try to push it down, it always finds a way to rise back up.
My gaze drifts to Maxim, watching as he guides the ferry with ease. His movements are fluid, effortless, the oars slicing through the water in perfect rhythm.
