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But other than the obligation of keeping Thaan content, I held little interest in pursuing Emilius. And it had nothing to do with the bruises that sometimes bloomed under the Queen’s eye, the fact that his children always avoided sitting beside him during hunts and games.

I probably could control him. Thaan didn’t like to overuseincantation, but I’d have no problem abusing my song like a drug if it meant keeping hands off me.

He watched my fingers play with the buttons of his shirt. “Fine,” he said slowly. “But you’ll drink with me.”

I curled into him. “Lead the way.”

More stairs. We turned the corner, climbing together. He reached for me every few steps, twiddling his fingers between the folds of my dress, tugging me into him. I made myself giggle. Made myself squeeze in when he pulled me close, letting him rip delicate stitches of silk as he teased.

It was all for Cebrinne, I reminded myself.

I’m going to Leihani.

As long as it remains lit, the gateway is open. As long as it’s lit, I’m there.

Until the ocean dries up. Until the moon burns out.

Are you sure that’s a good idea? Keep your head in the game.

The thoughts rattled in my head as I climbed, lashing me from every angle. The King’s quarters in his tower were higher than the one in mine, and the soreness from the day before returned, that tight ache in my calves and thighs, deep in my core muscles. I leaned into them, pumping my feet. Up, up, up.

Emilius stopped me just after the final climb, grasping my chin in the crook of his hand, sliding a thumb roughly across my lower lip. “Wait here.” The corner to our right led to his door.

He left me to walk down it, leather shoes thumping quietly across the cobalt rug. “You’re excused for the evening.” His voice drifted around the corner to me, and I wondered which of the royal guards were stationed outside his door.

The man left his post, his feet echoing more quietly than the King’s, down the servants’ staircase. A moment later, Emilius’s voice rang across the hallway, coated in velvet. “Selena.”

I heard his door open.

I heard Emilius go in.

I made to follow him, leaning away from the wall. But at that first step, something grabbed my arm, yanking me back. My back hit the wall again. A figure swathed entirely in black flattened me against the wall. The threads of his shirt wove small, embroidered patterns across the fabric. Leaves and vines and roots. A cloak graced his shoulders, hood pulled low over his eyes, and I managed to only make out the shadows carved by his unshaven jaw. He inhaled as he swept in, his chest swelling against my body, but that was all I gathered before he rocked his mouth into mine.

My eyes closed on instinct.

Fire exploded on impact.

It surged through my veins in an instant, slamming against my skin and climbing across every barrier, seeping to my very core. He shoved himself closer, so close I was almost lifted from my feet. His hip bones jarred into mine, his chest hard against my thorax, and his hand wrapped the base of my throat. My mind halted, caught in the whiplash of trying to understand, but it was as though my body already knew, and my hands were suddenly lost in the briar of wild russet hair. I held him as hard as he held me, maybe harder, jaw opening to brand his taste into my mouth.

My blood roared a savage song, deafening in my ears. The hallway twisted under my feet. The wall rotated against my spine. I was flung somewhere as violent and disorienting as the tide in a storm, spinning into the depths, unsure which way was up or down.

His hand slid up my neck, thumb pressing under my chin, tilting me up. My lungs protested at the sudden lack of oxygen, and I’m sure his did as well, but neither of us came up for air. We pushed and pulled, not only with our mouths but with our hands, our arms, our hips. His teeth grazed my lower lip, igniting dark flames, sending them streaking down my neck and up the landscape of my cheeks.

I’d kissed before. Had felt the thrill of lips against mine, of wandering hands and coarse skin, but I couldn’t remember a flame this sharp, thisuntamed. He carved the hollow under my jaw, his lips a soft chisel, sculpting each dip and arc with roughhewn precision. I arched my back, baring my throat, breath ragged as he hunted for each curve and secret within my skin.

“Selena?” A distant voice called from down the hall.

“Pheolix,” I murmured into his mouth. A warning.

The scent of molten steel flooded us in an instant, though he began to peel himself away.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop. My fingers tightened across his arms, my hips thrusting harder against his pelvis. Pheolix let out a gasp of intoxication and snatched my hands from the air, pinning them above my head, each kiss a bite that left me desperate for more.

“Pheolix,” I said again, though the ache in my voice was anything but a dismissal. “Go. He will hang you.” I’d seen the King do worse to men for less criminal offenses than being caught with a woman he’d intended to take to his bed.

He answered with something between a growl and a groan, the noise deep within his throat. “I don’t care.” Pheolix ground the words into my flesh, lips hot against my neck. “If you go to his rooms, you’ll go with the memory of my mouth burned into your skin. You’ll think of my voice when he speaks to you, my hands when he touches you, my lips when he kisses you. You’ll walk through that door with him, but it will bemein that room with you.”

“I’m not going tocordaewith him.”