Page 99 of Fire to the Stars

“Really, Abel. I’m not bothered.” I remove my hand from his good shoulder and reach down the front of my gown. He lifts his eyebrows at the three bejeweled bracelets I slipped from their wrists, then bursts out laughing.

“A fair price,” he says.

Righteous Abel has finally learned that life is only as fair as you make it.

I tuck the bracelets away. I’ll pawn them the next chance I get, alongside the gown and necklace. The extra coin will get him back on his feet until more work comes in.

When Abel’s weaker arm begins to shake, we indulge ourselves in more champagne. Even I grow tipsy enough to lead him brazenly away from the party, then stumble outside to the royal garden. The rising moonlight paints it in the faintest shadows.

Together we navigate snowcapped hedges and get lost in the maze. Stone statues of tinderfoxes, silverwolves, and fawnas, all dusted in white, wait at each dead end. We lean into each other for balance on the icy path. Each touch gives me a flash of warmth in the cold. My shawl droops off my shoulders, but I’m laughing too much to care.

An owl swoops down and lands on the antler of a nearby fawna statue. Frost scatters. It stares at us with wide eyes, chest puffed out, and gives a loud hoot.

Abel squints at it. “Here comes bad luck.”

“I bet it’s Noctu himself.” I cup his ear and whisper conspiratorially, “That Peeping Tom wants payback for all my stargazing.”

“Peeping Tom? A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“I mean it.” I poke his chest. “Owls watch me all the time.”

Abel snorts. I snicker too, even though it’s notthatfunny.

At the end of the maze, I back him into a wall and press my body against his. His empty flute slips from his fingers and lands in the snow. I lost mine somewhere too.

“This feels familiar,” I tease.

“It does.” Abel peers down at my eyes, then tilts his head to look lower. “Except this time I can enjoy the view.”

We burst into a fit of giggles. The December cold sharpensas the night deepens, but I barely feel it. I’m too flushed from the champagne. Out of nowhere, Abel’s arms wrap tightly around my waist. He tucks his forehead into the crook of my neck.

“I don’t want to see your skeleton strung up like that,” he murmurs.

“I think we’ve had too much to drink,” I whisper into his ear, as if it’s some big secret.

He nuzzles my throat. “Whose fault do you think that is?”

“It’s not my fault you need liquid courage to make a move on me.” I run my finger along his jaw, then tilt his chin up to meet my gaze. “And you call yourselfprofessional.”

At that, Abel spins us around and pins me against the wall. All reservations are lost in our kiss. Just desperate touches and a pleasant spike of body heat. Closing my eyes, I slip my hands beneath his frock coat and pull him tightly against me. More. I want more of him. As much as my greedy hands can get.

The Ignition is tomorrow.

Abel’s kisses pepper the length of my scar. He gathers the layers of my skirt and slips his hand underneath. I gasp with need and grip his belt for stability, trying hard to stay in the present instead of drifting to the future we can’t have. His touch is my only care in the world while I melt beneath the stars.

The stars. The stars.

The…

The owl constellation shimmers. The blurry, dancing stars swirl, swirl, swirl, waving hello. The full moon peeks over the treetops, blinding and beautiful. Owls hoot in the night.

“Claire?”

“I want to go north,” I whisper.

I stumble as someone snags my wrist. I blink at the sky, thendown. My footprints in the snow mark five long steps away from the wall. When did I walk away? Abel’s hand encircles mine. His hair is disheveled—my handiwork, of course, but he looks at me with arched eyebrows, as if he thinks he did something wrong.

I sway on the spot, dizzy and flushed and bubbly from the champagne. We really did have too much to drink.