Mag-log inI screamed against a palm, and it didn't help.Whoever held me was strong. He pulled me flat against a hard chest, and I kicked at his shins and twisted in his grip, my heart battering my ribs. His mouth came close to my ear."Quiet. Don't scream. Come with me."I knew the voice.I went still, and the hand lowered. I twisted around to find Klaus with his finger pressed to his lips, his face drawn tight with what looked like terrible worry. His eyes darted over my shoulder toward the shadows, then back to me. He seized my hand."Stay close," he whispered. "Don't make a sound."An attack. It had to be. Someone had come into the palace, some assassin, some Ronan-sent enemy, and Penny, oh, Penny. I clutched at his sleeve, afraid, and followed him on silent feet along the hedge, my pulse roaring in my ears.Please, I thought. Please, not now. Not like this.We rounded a corner of the maze, and a scent hit me in the chest like a hand.Sweet, spicy, clean. Green stems and cool petals and a f
ElaraI hadn't meant to take it so far.That was the part I couldn't forgive myself for. One cold night bloomed into, a turned shoulder, a few clipped sentences, and the thing had hardened around me like ice on a pond, thick enough by the third day that I didn't know where to break it. So I kept walking on top of it, polite and distant, and told myself I was only waiting for him to stop lying.But I watched him, every night, from the dark edge of the bed.He lay on his own side as stiff as a plank, one arm pinned beneath his head, his breath measured the way a man breathes when he's counting. Once, near dawn, I woke to find his hand hovering an inch above my face, tracing the curve of it slowly. It stayed there for a long moment, trembling slightly with the effort of not landing. Then he drew it back and rolled over to face the wall.I pretended to sleep through it. I lay there with my eyes shut and my throat aching to speak.The bond made it worse. It didn't care that I was proud. I
A week of cold shoulders had taught me that silence has texture as well as layers to it.Elara was polite. She said good morning with a small smile. She asked whether I had eaten, whether the council meeting had gone well, whether I needed anything from the tray. She answered every question I put to her in a sentence or less. But when I reached for her, she turned her cheek just in time to make the kiss land on her hair, or she let it land on her mouth and stood there like a statue, hands at her sides, lips unmoving until I drew back.I had tried talking to her about it. Twice. The first time she said she was tired. The second time she picked up a book and began to read it aloud to the wall.Brutus was coming apart at the seams.He scratched at my ribs through the night. He paced behind my eyes through every council session, whined during the sparring hour, and snapped at the stable hands until Sebastian quietly reassigned them. Her scent drifted through our rooms and he lunged toward
"It's nothing," I said, catching her wrist before her fingers could probe the swelling. "A small cut. It will heal by morning.""You're bleeding on your collar," her hands reached for the side before they stopped midway. "It was Ronan, wasn't it?""It doesn't matter.""That's a yes." She slipped out of my grip with surprising ease and was gone, her bare feet slapping across the stone toward the bathroom. Water splashed. A cupboard door banged. When she came back she carried a bowl of warm water, a folded washcloth, and a tin of ointment clamped under one arm like she'd gone to war and brought supplies."Sit.""I'm fine, Elara. It's just a small cut.""Sit, Klaus." Her tone was stern and left no room for argument only obedience.I sat. Brutus, who had been snarling for the last hour, went suspiciously quiet.She wrung out the cloth, pushed my chin toward the lamp with two fingers, and began to dab at my mouth gently. The warmth stung and her touch didn't. It was careful, almost reveren
KlausThe great hall glittered like the inside of a jewel box, and I wanted to burn it down.Chandeliers blazed overhead. Lutes and drums spun a lively reel for the dancers crowding the floor, and servants wove between them with silver trays of roast lamb, spiced pears, honeyed figs. Every noble family in the capital had come out in their finest. At the center of them all stood Ronan, laughing at something a councilman had said, a goblet in hand, as comfortable as if he'd been born in this room.I stood at the edge of the dais with a cup of wine I hadn't touched and counted the minutes."Elara," Brutus murmured, not for the first time. "She's alone. I don't want to be here" he whined.Me too Brutus. She's safer in our chamber. We'll go to her soon.The nobles gave me a wide berth. I wasn't surprised. Whatever my face was doing, it had cleared a circle three paces wide, and
Elara "You're sulking," Klaus told the mirror."No I'm not, I'm reading," I said as I flipped the pages of the book in my hands."You're holding the book upside down," he said flatly.I turned it over and he was right. But the words didn't look any more interesting the right way up. I was curled on the window seat in a plain linen robe, my hair in a loose braid, while somewhere below us the palace hummed like a hive. Lutes tuning. Carriage wheels. A cook shouting about the lamb in a distance.Klaus stood at the glass in a long black coat stitched with gold thread, fastening his left golden cuff for the third time. He hadn't looked at me directly since the maids had left."Everyone else in this palace has been laced, powdered and perfumed since noon," I said. "Even the kitchen cats look dressed up.""You're not going, Elara.""So you've mentioned. Four times," I sighed.He gave up on the cuff and turned around. "The hall will be crowded and loud, and half the people in it will spend th







