My lungs contracted. Gods, how I longed to curve toward his certainty, like I would a fire on a frigid night. What could I become, with his assurances? Who could I be, with him to bolster me?
Except...there was no us. No future. Just a thousand reasons to keep my distance. A hundred uncertainties hovering between us.
Yet when I met his gaze, all those fell away, because right now, his eyes looked infinite. Like a summer sky above an open plain. Or an endless candle, burning against the dark.
Something must have shown on my face, because his breathing changed. His heart thudded against my shins, its steadiness giving way to something urgent.
His hold on me tightened. “Harlowe...” His voice had gone thick. Soaked in smoke.
A sizzle unfurled within me, so vast and wild and terrible I wondered if I would combust. Leave Kyven hugging nothing but ashes.
Because seven hells, what was I supposed to do when he said my name that way? Except tell him to stop looking at me likethat, maybe. Make it clear that people like me didn’tgetblue skies and infinities.
Ever so slowly, he slid a hand down my thigh, his coarse palm catching at the silk of my nightgown.
My pulse sped, each heartbeat slamming against the next. When Kyven reached my hip, he seated his grip and squeezed. That pressure became the epicenter of a full-body shiver, one that somehow ended between my thighs.
He must have sensed my reaction, but he didn’t push. His eyes held mine, a molten question.
And yet I sat unmoving. Not because I needed to annul this marriage so he could marry Amryssa, or because I hadn’t deciphered the last of his secrets, or because he’d leave me like everyone else had, but...
Well, it was all of those things. And none of them.
Hell, I didn’t even know.
I just knew I had to scoot back, so I did, breaking his grip and smoothing down my nightgown. “I’m tired,” I said, averting my gaze. “Take me to bed?”
A beat passed, then another. The sparks in the air cooled and frosted over.
“Of course,” he finally said. “Whatever you need.”
For once, his answer held no innuendo. No heat at all.
Even though I’d given him the perfect opening.
20.
Another week passed, during which I cranked tighter. I swore the manor was shrinking around me, a vise closing me inexorably in its grip.
I was determined to free Zephyrine. And annul my marriage. Yet the search for the Lady Marche’s diary proved fruitless, and my obsession with Kyven only grew.
I prayed. I asked for Zephyrine to help me find the journal, or for Kyven to decide he’d had enough of this and go already. For a fucking housefire to burn the house to ash so I wouldn’t have to face the thing brewing in my depths.
I whispered to the goddess in every moment of weakness, like when I ducked into the defunct music room to escape the blue searchlight of Kyven’s gaze, and again two days later, when I caught him staring at me from across the library and the air between us lit like a flashfire.
Gods among us, thatlook. Being struck by lightning would have affected me less. And by the way he held my eyes for half an eternity before a smile snuck across his mouth, he knew it, too.
I grabbed for my dagger and rushed from the room.Zephyrine, help me. Under no circumstances can I sleep with this pompous ass. Or...sorry, incredibly arrogant man, that’s what I meant to say. Because if I do, Amryssa can’t marry him, and that would be a disaster. For so many, many reasons.
The dagger zinged against my palm, giving me the distinct impression that Zephyrine was laughing at me before she faded away.
Well, then. On my own again.
Wasn’t that just great.
Somehow, I survived another week. By now, I’d wasted three quarters of a month looking for a stupid diary, and now the final days of my marriage stared me in the face. Which should have come as a comfort—the annulment certificate would arrive within the week. But I dreaded a nightmare arriving first.
Amryssa had faded nearly to nothingness. Today, I found her sitting cross-legged in the library, staring out the window.
