Page 155 of Nightshade

“But … he did as you asked. He apologized.”

“Would you like to know what thoughts went through his head as he did so?”

“You decapitated him … for … for … thoughts?” She pushed off me, still unsteady on her feet.

“For imagining you strung up naked and at his mercy. Yes, I decapitated him for that.”

“Did you not tell me earlier you imagined the same thing?”

“I did. I suppose the difference is that I held the sword. He didn’t.”

Certain she was about to keel over, I tucked the sword back into its scabbard and swiped her legs out from underneath her, scooping her up into my arms. Part of me wanted to ignore how perfect she felt against me. The other part of me couldn’t.

“I don’t need you to carry me,” she growled, squirming. A valiant effort, but useless, nonetheless.

As I re-entered the party, I kept my head low on passing a crowd of men, in the event one of them might recognize me. On hearing Mister Barchiel call out to someone, one of the men nearby, and seeing him hobble toward us, I set Farryn down and pressed her against a nearby tree. The men were a mere few feet from where we stood, and as she opened her mouth to protest, I capped her argument with my palm, muffling her voice. Seemed the drug had begun to turn her somewhat belligerent, and she squirmed against me, as I turned my head to eavesdrop. The feel of her body against mine made for a painfully effective distraction.

“I trust you’ve all had the opportunity to witness the efficacy of this product,” Mr. Barchiel said with an air of pride in his voice. “I suspect it will revolutionize the business of corruption and debauchery.”

The men laughed in unison, a few of them offering up their glass in a toast.

“You’re a genius, Mister Barchiel. Absolutely brilliant,” one of them exclaimed.

“It’s not genius, nor brilliance, but fate, my dear friend. For the souls of nonbelievers are destined to perish in the fire.”

At that, I froze, focusing on the words that were familiar to me. Words I’d heard a long time ago.

In my preoccupation, my hand slipped from Farryn’s mouth.

“Let me go!” Her scream damn near echoed, and in my frustration, I pressed my lips to her mouth to silence her.

“Sounds like someone could use a second dose.” Another of the men from their group laughed, but his voice faded for the rush of blood and adrenaline that hammered through me, as I dipped my tongue past her lips. Completely consumed by the woman who tasted like sweet berries and sunshine. A flavor that had become foreign to me, in this place of eternal overcast, but something about her kiss felt familiar, deliciously ambrosial.

Eyes closed, I fell into memories of a girl. The one I’d dreamed about. My curiosity heightened, and as she lifted her hand to push me away, I snatched up her wrist and held her pinned, reveling in her taste.

The fight in her fizzled, and she melted against me, her fingers curling into my jacket. When I pulled away from her, the look in her eyes, a cross between fear and wonder, held me captivated a moment longer, before I realized the crowd of men had dispersed.

As if she and I were the only two left.

I wordlessly lifted her into my arms and carried her through the dome, past the two stags checking the guestlist, and out into the night.

48

Lustina

A black bird fluttered to the sill of Lustina’s window, as she shoved the small bit of bread she’d taken from the kitchen into the satchel, along with a pair of woolen mittens, some extra stockings, and her only other dress. “Patience. I am going as fast as I can,” she whispered to the bird, who had flown by her window twice in the time she’d taken to pack the few items. “You are going to stir attention, if you keep flying about like that.”

A clanging sound she’d heard earlier, but had paid little attention to, seized her focus, and she paused her packing to listen carefully.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The same pattern, repeated.