Page 79 of The Isles of the Gods
I ache to lean in and kiss her, to feel her lips on mine. But I settle for squeezing her hands instead. And for the truth. Because it’s not about the dress. This version of her is beautiful, but it’s not who she is or who she wants to be.
“Actually,” I say, meeting her green eyes, “I like you best with salt on your skin.”
SELLY
Ruby Red
Port Naranda, Mellacea
The only thing I want in the world right now is to step forward, curl my hands into his shirt, and kiss him until he stops talking.
But that’s not for me—he’snot for me.
“All right, you smooth talker,” I say, tearing my gaze away from him and taking in the bodies on the dance floor. “Come on—the music’s changing. One dance, and you’ll be sick of me stepping on your feet.”
I let him lead me to the dance floor, our fingers twined together—just an hour ago at the night market this seemed so strange, but now it’s as though we’ve left the confines of the port and we’re out on open water, nothing in our way. It’s simpler. Even if we won’t act on it, we both know what we’re feeling.
Leander stops so suddenly that I crash into him, wrapping one arm around him to keep my balance in these ridiculousshoes. “What is it? Is this song too…” My words die away at the look on his face.
He’s staring straight at a boy standing near the bar—I think he just came through the back staff entrance, and he was talking to one of the bartenders, but he’s stopped too, frozen in place. Leander looks like he’s seen a ghost, and so does the other boy, his mouth open in shock.
He’s slim, wirily built, with black hair cut short, tanned skin, dark eyes, full lips. Handsome, but wary. One moment he’s staring at us, the next he’s backing up toward the door, and when he crashes into it, he starts.
“Jude,” Leander calls, hauling me with him as he pushes his way through the crowd at the edges of the dance floor.
The boy called Jude has nowhere to go unless he disappears through the door behind him, and something seems to stop him from opening it. He’s not dressed like the fancy dancers in the club, but like the locals up on the street, in shirtsleeves and a flat cap, a pin with a small red jewel on it stuck through his lapel, like the one on the sign outside. I feel like I’ve seen one of those pins before, but I can’t think where. He’s staring at Leander with his mouth open, shaking his head slowly.
“Jude, where in the seven hells have youbeen?” Leander demands as we reach him.
“Here,” the boy replies, breathless. “Where else?”
“What do you mean,where else?” Leander’s still staring at him like he’s trying to believe he’s real, but however pleased—if that’s the right word—he is to see this boy, the feeling clearly isn’t mutual.
Jude shakes his head again, shoving his hands deep into hispockets, but not before I see they’re shaking. “I— What areyoudoing here?” He seems about to sayYour Highness,but he bites down on the words. He looks like he wants to be sick.
“I’m not here,” Leander replies. “Never was, won’t be tomorrow. Jude, do youknowwhat I did to try and find you? I went to your mother’s house in Kirkpool, but she said you were moving, so I left letters with her.”
“You what?” Jude asks slowly.
“She said she’d give them to you,” Leander says, running one hand through his hair. “But when you didn’t reply, I went back, and you’d both moved out. I had the captain of the Queensguard out looking for you. I went to see your father’swife. She’d have thrown me out if I wasn’t who I am.”
“You’re lying,” Jude says, looking sicker still. “None of you ever…No.”
“Why would I— Look, you shouldn’t be here,” Leander says. “There’ll be a war—you have to come home. We can arrange that, you—”
“I can’t,” Jude says flatly, pulling one hand from his pocket and reaching for the door handle. “Forget me. I sure as hells never saw you.”
“Jude, I—”
“You have to go.” Jude cuts him off, his voice low, intense. “You have to goright now.Get out of town.” In one quick movement he pulls the door open, slipping out through it and slamming it shut.
Leander’s after him in a second, but when he tries to turn the handle, it’s already locked. “Jude!” he calls, hammering on it. “Jude, get back here!”
“Stop,” I hiss, grabbing for his arm. “People will notice.” Already the boy Jude was talking to at the bar is looking at us—I glare at him until he turns away and picks up a glass to polish.
Leander whirls around to face me. “Selly, I have to—”
“No, you don’t! He said no.”
