Page 27 of A Fragile Enchantment

“Ididn’t know. Besides, I would rather hear it from you.”

“Then, no. I wasn’t.” Judging by his cold tone, Niamh understood that was the extent of what she’d extract from him tonight. But he’d all but confirmed her suspicions.

Kit had been sent away, and she’d seen enough to guess at why.

The gossip from those dreadful women, Sinclair’s concern over his drink, Kit’s insistence that smoking was the very last of his vices… He was sick, too. She’d no word for it, but she recognized a disease when she saw one—especially when she’d watched it tear through Caterlow time and time again. In the wake of the Blight, chronic hunger and grief had driven many to seek solace in home-distilled poitín. She’d witnessed the devastation alcohol dependence could wreak on a man. For a time, they held themselves together well enough, but it always caught them out in the end. It came for their relationships first, and then it came for their lives.

She had to admire Kit for managing it as best he could. Very tentatively, she crossed the space between them. Speaking to him so often felt like walking into a room blindfolded and praying you didn’t find any sharp edges, but she had to try. “I never apologized for what I said during our first consultation. I mean, youarenegative and unsociable, but, ehm… Wait. That didn’t come out right. Let me try again.”

“All right,” he said dryly. “This should be good.”

“I know it isn’t so simple to change things on your own. And it wasn’t fair to compare you to your father. Neither of us was born yet when Machland was under Avlish rule.” She knotted her hands together. “I cannot pretend to understand you entirely. But I do know something of what it’s like to feel like your life does not matter. Like it is on a set course, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

Emotion bubbled tight within her chest and prickled behind her eyes. Whatever she expected herself to say, it was not that.

He shifted, clearly avoiding her gaze. “You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t wrong about me.”

Niamh was suddenly too aware of how alone they were. Their elbows rested side by side on the railing, so close she could feel the warmth radiating from him. Moonlight fell like a blade between them. It silvered the white petals of the flowers blooming around them. It softened the harshness of his features.

“This wasn’t supposed to be the course my life was on,” he said, startling her. “My brother never would have called me back here unless he was truly desperate. He’s an ass sometimes, but he’s always kept his promises to me.”

Niamh wondered what promise he meant, but she did not want to risk him shutting down again by asking. “Perhaps he’s changed.”

Kit shook his head. “No one changes that much. The man can’t stand to let a problem go unsolved for five minutes, and as you just saw, he’s avoiding all of his at the moment. There has to be some reason.”

What reason could there possibly be? She didn’t know the prince regent like Kit did, but she could not imagine anything nefarious about a peacetime wedding—or anything terribly unusual about an Avlish lord neglecting his Machlish servants. “You think he’s hiding something?”

His expression went slack, as though he’d forgotten who exactlyhe was talking to—or that he’d been speaking aloud at all. Pulling himself together, he rounded on her with a scowl. “I don’t know why I’m explaining all of this to you. Forget we had this conversation.”

“I…” She reeled at his sudden change in demeanor. So the spell had broken at last. “I cannot justforget! I am not sure I want to.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shh.”

Niamh’s mouth hinged open. “Excuseme?”

“Be quiet,” he snapped. “There’s someone—”

The door opened, and the sound of the ball came spilling out onto the balcony. A woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, her arms braced against it as if to bar their escape.

“Oh my,” she said. “Am I interrupting something?”

Niamh’s breath escaped her in a panicked rush. The woman had seen through the enchantment on his coat—precisely because she’d been expecting to see two people. How could she have been so foolish to tarry with him here? If she was recognized, then…

“You are,” Kit said, his voice low and dangerous, but the hard line of his mouth was all grim resignation. The light of his magic flooded her vision with gold, and the plants around them began to seethe. Ivy detached itself from the wall, and passionfruit vines unwound from the balusters. Foliage spilled across the floor like a wave.

“Go,” he muttered under his breath.

Before Niamh could reply, he strode forward, quickly enough that the woman stumbled back, her upturned face pale with dread. He took one menacing step into the ballroom—and did not hesitate as he threw himself down the three shallow stairs leading up to the balcony doors.

Shocked gasps rang out in the crowd. Someone even screamed.

Niamh looked on in horror. What was hedoing?

And where, exactly, did he expect her to go? She cast her gaze about desperately until there, a few meters away, she spied anotherdoor leading into an abandoned corner of the ballroom.Perfect.She slipped back inside, her chin tucked low. A few brave souls were attempting to haul Kit to his feet as he groused at them, and a few more sadistic ones were watching the scene with delight.

No one paid her any mind at all.

As she made a beeline for the exit, it occurred to her, quite belatedly, that Kit Carmine had made a spectacle of himself to protect her reputation.