She glanced quickly away, staring straight over his shoulder.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say next,” he said, still spinning her around the room.
“How is that different from any other time you open your mouth?”
Both corners of his lips curved now. Emeline decided that she liked what smiling did to his mouth.
“Right. Well, hear me out.”
She eyed him, suspicious, but motioned for him to continue.
“The king is getting increasingly unstable,” he said. “I’m worried about what he’ll do tonight, if you can’t sing him the last song.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That you leave.”
Emeline fumbled the steps.“What?”
His hands tightened, steadying her.
“I can help you.” He lowered his voice, gaze darting to the shadows around them. “You’d have to go now, though. Before the demonstration.”
She didn’t understand. There were guards everywhere—in the palace, patrolling the streets, standing guard at the city gate. “How?”
“There’s a way,” was all he said.
She stared at him, her steps slowing, forcing him to slow too.
“And Pa? Will you help him too?”
He looked down at his feet. “Ewan tithed himself. I can’t interfere with a tithe. It goes against my oath to the king. If I did …” His throat worked audibly. “It would not go well for me. Butyou.” He looked up. “I have no such oath where you’re concerned.”
“You expect me to leave himagain?” She shook her head. She wouldn’t. “I’m not running.”
Not with a curse devouring the woods. Not when I’m this close.
“Ewan agrees with me,” he said softly. “He’s the one who brought it up. I told him I’d do my best to convince you.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t appreciate him going behind her back—except Pa had told her this exact same thing three nights ago.
And Hawthorne wasn’t finished.
“You’ll have your freedom.” He stared at her with a startling intensity. “Nothing will hold you back. It’s what you want, Emeline. It’s what Ewan wants.”
They’d stopped dancing. The glass room continued to spin around them while Emeline and Hawthorne stood still, their hands falling away from each other.
She studied him in the starlight. He stood mere inches away from her. But she knew the taste of him now, knew the warm trace of his hands on her skin, and it wasn’t close enough. He was a drug and she was slowly becoming addicted, needing a higher and higher dose.
“Is that whatyouwant? For me to leave and never come back?”
He drew in a breath.
“Yes,” he whispered. “That’s exactly what I want.”
But Emeline had learned the shape of his lies. She knew the strain of his voice when he told them.
She thought of the Wood King, wild-eyed and cursed.
