Then, Garin bent and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Blinded by the smoke and heat, feet stuck in place, Lilac lunged for him and snapped.
Stunned, he pulled back and wiped his knuckle across his bottom lip. He’d moved out of the way before she could make him bleed again, but her mouth had scraped against him.
“There we are,” Garin said as Lilac panted into the smoke. “Ruthless is the creature who resorts to teeth when her blade is out of reach.”
Ignoring her lethal glare, Garin slowly strode to the balcony door and swung it open, causing all the heat and smoke to billow out in a rush.
Voices and shouting could be heard outside the alley, toward the street. He cocked his head, listening. “Bastion and Myrddin have been escorting people out. Go.”
Chest throbbing, the invisible weights around Lilac’s ankles released—and she threw herself onto the balcony.
18
Lilac’s lungs burned as she stumbled into the night, swallowing the clean air gasp by gasp. Once the tears from her stinging eyes had allowed her to wipe away most of the soot, she peered down, nose dripping. The alley below was dark, lit only by the blaze behind them and the lamps on the bustling street to their left. There was an occasional uproar of laughter and shouting as the drunken denizens filed outside, away from the brothel fire.
The balcony was small and made of rickety wood, probably decades if not centuries old. There was barely enough room for two people. She took hold of the banister before her and shook it to check its stability. It rattled under her touch, and there didn’t seem to be a gate or ladder leading down to the first floor.
Her stomach lurched when Garin’s weight shook the entire structure; his arm slinked around her middle without warning. She shrieked and clung to him; one moment, he was lifting her, and they were climbing onto the thin banister like large, perching cats. The next, she was scrambling for purchase against him as they fell into the dark alleyway.
Garin landed soundlessly. Lilac wasn’t so stealthy, jerking with the impact and stumbling out of his arms as he released her. Gasping, shebounced on the cobblestone and fell forward, barely catching herself against the far wall.
She pushed off the rough brick to glare at him, jostled but otherwise unharmed. “Youdroppedme.”
He was dusting his hands and looking up at the flames now creeping out onto the balcony. “I was tempted to see how indestructible this bond has made you, seeing as you and I have somehow skippedallthe steps,” he said, his words laced with mocking fury even as he gave a lackadaisical shrug. “I could’ve thrown you off and you’d have lived. Most likely.”
She snarled and marched in the direction of the street, but his arm shot out, catching her by the wrist. In one fluid, gentle motion, he yanked her close, his hands sliding up to her face—to her mask. She batted them away, but Garin’s reflexes were still faster.
Their chests moved as one as he contained her with one hand and grabbed the corner of her mask with the other. She would look ridiculous, the skin where the mask had lain likely cleaner than the rest of her face.
But Garin didn’t seem to think so. His breath hitched as he pulled it off, slinking the string up and above her head, as if he hadn’t truly believed. As if he were still expecting someone else, after everything. He tossed the mask aside and his jaw clenched into that infuriating stare of disapproval again.
She’d encouraged a blood exchange, a true deep feeding, because it was the only thing that would stop his hunger—and keep her alive—by granting her this unnameable strength. She hadn’t known it would dothis. Her chest heaved in mistrust and betrayal. Had Myrddin known this would happen?
Then again, the only reason they were put in that position in the first place was the carriage crash, and the blood exchange that had begun their uncontrollable need for each other and set them on this course. The crash, where she’d…
Where she’d?—
Lilac stared down at her hands, imagined them covered in blood. The blood of the emissary she was supposed to meet tomorrow.
She was never supposed to be propositioned by a count. She looked up at Garin, who was watching her with his arms crossed.
“I stabbed Maximilian’s emissary.” Her voice was as unsteady as she felt. “I stabbed Albrecht. I don’t—How did I?—”
But she trailed off as the corner of his mouth quirked. There was no pity or shock there. Of course, he was not surprised. He’dbeenthere.
“Why do I not remember?” She shut her eyes, rifling through the poor memory he already had of the crash. The corpses, the pain. The shouting and being stuck in her own body. She couldn’t recall anything else. There were no true, organic memories of her own—only what she’d seen through Garin’s eyes. “How?”
“He told us he came to proposition you for the emperor.”
“I know what he did. I saw it when I drank your blood.”
“And that was your choice, wasn’t it?” He reached out for her slowly, as if not to spook her.
Lilac was well past that. She moved out of his reach, her chest aching, thinking of the vision of her father’s study that had flashed before her eyes when she’d bit his hand. The way she couldn’t conjure even the faintest memory of sinking the blade into the emissary’s chest.
What had she felt in that moment? Why she’d done it was obvious, butstabbinghim? Guilt and pride warred in her, knowing she’d do it again.
Covered in blood and soot, his hair ruffling in the slight breeze scattering leaves through the alleyway, Garin was gazing at her unremorsefully. It was the first time tonight where his eyes were not shadowed by that overpowering hunger.
