Page 74 of A Fragile Enchantment

But when she looked down, his eyes had closed. Slowly, his breathing evened out. A pang of disappointment dropped into her gut, although she didn’t know what she was expecting. With that, she rose and closed the door on what they might have had.

21

With only four days left until the wedding, the final event on Jack’s social calendar presented Niamh with the perfect opportunity.

It was an intimate gathering tonight, with only the wedding party and the couple’s families in attendance. From her bedroom window, Niamh watched the Carrillos arrive. They filed out of a line of carriages, one by one. There were considerably more of them than Niamh had anticipated. Rosa, apparently, had eleven brothers. They ran the gamut in age: the oldest of the infantes were in their thirties, while the younger ones were still children. She caught only a glimpse of the king and queen before an army of servants—and Jack himself—overtook them and led them inside.

When it was time to leave, Niamh tucked Lovelace’s last letter into the pocket of Kit’s coat, then pulled it over her shoulders. Itsweight comforted her—and warmed her, with her magic lingering in the threads. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as the enchantment washed over her. It was always the same. Emotion bubbled up within her. Then: memories. Everything she felt while embroidering this garment flooded back to her.

She remembered all the times she felt small and safe, held and cradled: tucked away in a hollow beneath a tree’s roots during a game of hide-and-seek, curled up beside a friend in bed, dozing in her mother’s arms. The tenderness of it made her feel strangely off-kilter. She wondered what Kit saw when he first tried it on, and about all the things he must’ve hidden from as a boy. She’d never be able to ask him herself. She’d never again see him slither out of vulnerability, or throw up a wall of thorns, or grow flustered at her needling.

No, she couldn’t dwell on this. Not now.

She descended the grand staircase, watching the guests in their finery filter into the drawing room. Jack had brought in a trio of dancers from Castilia to perform. A stage had been constructed, with three rows of chairs surrounding it on all sides. Niamh lingered, hoping to catch at least one glimpse of their costumes. But soon enough, the doors fell shut.

No time to waste, then.

In the shadowed corridors, all the statues were bathed in blue moonlight. Their cold, impassive eyes looked down on her in silent judgment. The door to Jack and Sofia’s wing of the palace rose as strong and tall as a vanguard above her. She tried the handle, but the lock held fast.

She’d expected as much, and she’d prepared accordingly. How hard could it be, really, to break in? She fished a hairpin from her updo, and her braid tumbled down her back. She slid it into the lock. A shove, a twist, andsnap.The broken half of the pin clattered to the floor.

“Oh, bother,” she muttered under her breath.

“I told you to stay out of trouble.”

Niamh gasped. She whirled around quickly enough that her braid nearly slapped her in the face. Kit stood there, leaning against the wall barely a foot away from her. His amber eyes seemed to glow in the candlelit dark, filled with exasperated disbelief and a thousand strangled emotions.

“Kit!”

“Still so easily surprised,” he said wonderingly. “You really ought to pay more attention to your surroundings, especially if you’re trying to break into His Royal Highness’s quarters.”

She had no idea what to say to that. She had no idea what to make of him, entirely nonchalant and as bitingly sarcastic as ever. She clutched his coat tighter around her throat. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be avoiding me?” And then, something else occurred to her. “How did you even see me?”

“I saw you in the doorway, just for a moment.”

“So you were looking for me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” He turned his face away from her, but she could see the faintest dusting of red creeping across the bridge of his nose. “I could tell you were about to do something reckless. Looks like I was right. You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Niamh’s entire face burned with humiliation. “And what about you? It isn’t exactly the wisest idea to follow me. People will have seen you leave.”

“And? This is my house.”

“Oh. Right.” She paused. “Still, if anyone finds us together again… This is a very compromising position.”

“Then we won’t get caught.” She recognized that look in his eye by now: defiance. “What are you doing?”

Niamh could muster no sensible excuse. She was standing in a dark hallway, in his stolen coat, holding a broken hairpin-turned-lockpick. “I am taking a look around.”

“Is that what you call it? You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning. “You… You were awake?”

“You almost broke my wardrobe with how hard you kicked it. So, yes.”

“You…” If only the floor would swallow her now. If only she could burst into flames. “You were just teasing me, then, when you called me over to you! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe I wanted to see how it would play out.” He leaned against the wall, the very picture of nonchalance. “I’m still waiting, honestly.”