53

Dinner is served in my room for our privacy.

Jadon lifts the luclite tunic and holds it out before him. He nods with approval before placing it back over the chair. “Olivia would say all of this”—he waves at my tunic and breeches—“is ridiculous .”

“And if she places a single loose eyelash on it…” I say.

Philia laughs. “I talked to the fishmonger, who said that he saw what he thought was a child riding a horse with a soldier sharing the saddle. And then Separi bought mugs of ale from a hostess who says the soldier who shared her bed mentioned going to Weeton. And finally, a child followed us back here and asked if I’d lost my sister. I said ‘yes,’ and he pointed west and said, ‘She went that way.’ And Weeton is that way.”

Jadon nods. “We’re going to Weeton, then. If the map is correct, we’ll get there…in one million days. If we’re lucky.”

“Good news on that front,” Philia says. “Separi’s gifted us with two of her best horses. And Ridget gave me several special apples to keep them healthy.”

Their kindness is extraordinary—from the hot water and comfortable boarding to the horses and armor.

And the food…

When it’s brought in, I almost faint with delight.

Roast beef. Roasted potatoes. Wine. Fruits. Creamy cakes. Honeycakes. In silence, we eat dinner before the roaring fire, barely chewing before swallowing. The taste of a delicious, cooked meal is no illusion.

Philia, gnawing on a hunk of bread, says, “This meal is filling us up for the first time in days. I’m no longer as picky an eater as I used to be.”

I drain the rest of my ale, and my spirit soars. Between the food, the hospitality, and the armor, I’m feeling almost like my old self. Well, the self I met at Veril’s cottage.

After we eat, Jadon, better rested after his nap and bath, slumps beside me, his back against the bed. He’s full of good food and drink.

Philia rises from the floor and stretches. “And now I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough of this day.” She takes with her a cup of ale and a rum cake.

Both Jadon and I say, “Good night.”

After Copperhair leaves the room, Jadon groans. “That was one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. I haven’t tasted ginger since my days in Brithellum.”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “That wasn’t a ginger sauce with the roast, Jadon. That was horseradish.”

“So now you think that your palate is better than mine?” Jadon challenges.

I chomp on a roasted carrot. “I don’t think . I know .”

His eyebrow lifts. “Let me test you, then.”

“Go right ahead,” I sniff, chin up. “Prepare to be amazed.” My pulse spikes as I grin—as I dare to take that intentional deep breath I’ve yearned for since meeting him in Maford. And then I take another. Another…

Jadon picks up a napkin and folds it the long way three times.

Just like that, my breath catches, and I lean away from him. “What are you about to do?”

“Blindfold.” He crawls behind me. “You scared?”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Never.”

“Turn around, then.” His voice is soft and teasing. With gentle hands, he covers my eyes with the napkin. “Let’s see how fine-tuned your palate is.”

“And if I win?” I ask, smiling, my breath hot with anticipation.

“You can take anything you want from me.” His tone is now a playful challenge. “Including geld. Lady’s choice.”

“Okay. Deal.” I sense his eyes on me, and my blood rushes at the prospect of lady’s choice—and this lady needs no geld.

“And what do I get when I win?” he asks, his words also laced with anticipation.

“When?” A playful smile dances on my lips. “You can take whatever you want from me .” My heart races at the thought, the promise of giving him whatever he wants. And he’s not interested in geld, either.

Jadon says, “Open your mouth.”

I chuckle, an attempt to dispel the nervous fluttering in my stomach. “No bugs, though.”

“No bugs,” he repeats. “Open.”

I part my lips just like he wants, and I smell it before I taste it. Tart and sweet. The spaces around my ears tingle. “Easy. Strawberries.”

“That was a gimme,” Jadon says, his voice warm with amusement. “Next. Open.”

I comply, my face burning beneath the napkin.

He sets the item on my tongue.

I bite. The smooth nuttiness of cheese fills my mouth.

“But what kind of cheese?” he asks.

“What kind of cheese?” I pause, savoring the taste on my tongue. “Goudrake.”

“Wow. Impressive.” He sounds proud.

“I’m winning.” I’ve only begun to impress.

“Next,” he says. “Open.”

I part my lips again.

“Wider.”

A thrill of anticipation shoots up my spine and spreads across my neck. I obey.

Something light sits on my tongue. I don’t know which of my senses I’ll lose myself in first: the flavor that will soon flood my mouth, the tingle in my cheeks as his breath warms my skin, or the luscious aroma of the pine-scented soap he used to bathe.

I close my mouth but only because he tells me to.

Sweet. Sticky. Solid but barely.

“Fig,” I say, my brow furrowed.

“No.”

I gasp. “You lie.”

“Raisin.”

I dart my tongue to my back teeth and taste the raisin there. “Ah. Yeah. You’re right.”

I want to win. I want to lose. I want what I want from him and that’s everything.

I correctly guess boiled egg yolk and melon. I miss eggplant and mushroom.

“Last one,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “You miss it, and I win.”

“I guess it correctly, and I win.” I feel him settle behind me. Goose bumps rise across my skin. I could play this game forever.

“Open,” Jadon instructs.

The object pools on my tongue, then strings across my lower lip. I close my eyes even though they’re covered with a blindfold. My favorite taste of all tastes. This variety boasts deep, rich hints of blackberry. The flavor makes me moan.

“You like this one.” He sounds satisfied.

My breath catches in my throat. “I do, but I want to be sure…” I part my lips again.

He drizzles a bit more onto my tongue, and that simple act makes me tremble. Just like before, he strings this flavor across my lips. “That’s it,” he says. “No more. What is it?”

“Honey,” I whisper, that one word barely escaping my lips.

He says, “I can’t hear you.” He leans closer, his lips to my ear. “What is it?”

“Honey,” I say, breathless.

“You’re right.”

He’s so close to my back—heat curls off him like fire.

“May I have more,” I whisper, “since I won?” My heartbeat tumbles faster until one beat trips over the other and then another, and I sway, lightheaded.

“Haven’t I given you enough?” he asks, his words hot against my ear.

“Don’t you want to give me more?” I counter, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “I know you want to reward me—and you can stop rewarding only when I say.”

“Bossy,” he says, chuckling.

“And you like it like that,” I tease.

“I do,” he admits, his voice husky. Still behind me, he runs his finger along my jaw. “How’s that?”

Soft jolts of lightning spark at those spots along my skin. “Feels good,” I confess.

He leans closer, our noses brushing. “You want the napkin on or off?”

“Off,” I say without hesitation. “I want to see all of my reward.”

Just like that, the napkin falls away and there he is, my prize, just a breath away.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Our noses brush again. Then I brush his lips with mine, and he is the best taste of all. He pulls me to stand, and I guide him onto my bed. And we kiss, and his lips, his tongue, they are magic. He bites my ear. I suck his bottom lip.

None of this is enough.

We kneel together, him behind me, and I catch sight of our reflection in the mirror across the room. There we are. Faces flushed. Eyes glassy. He smiles at my reflection, his eyes dark with desire. “Hey,” he whispers, his breath hot on my ear.

“Hey,” I whisper back, my voice barely a breath.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his words tinged with uncertainty.

“Mmhmm.” My pulse thunders in my ears. “Is this what you want?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“Then don’t.”

He lifts my tunic over my head and kisses a slow, deliberate path from my shoulder to my neck, leaving fire, fire, everywhere.

“Are you coming with me?” I ask, trembling.

He pauses, then laughs softly against my skin. “Definitely. If all goes well.”

I snort in amusement. “Not that. I mean…”

“To Mount Devour?” He meets my gaze in the mirror. “Yes.”

I brush my nose against his, and flames jump between us. “As you were.”

Sparks sizzle from every place he touches, every place he kisses, and all that energy is building and whirling inside me. And then, as his hand drifts over my skin, I see my tattoo markings for the first time. Jadon notices as he glances at our reflection in the mirror, and his hand drifts over my bandeau to the wild vine right beneath my breasts.

“I want to see all of it,” I whisper and watch his hand unclasp my bandeau.

Symbols. Stars, filled circles, boxes and lines.

“What does it mean?” I wonder.

He doesn’t respond, merely traces each shape until his hand cups my breast.

No longer ashamed of my impatience, I untie the bandage from his left hand.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

“Mmhmm,” I whisper, hopeful. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm,” he whispers.

He is free now, and his hand returns to my breast. His tattoo sits above mine, his a controlled circle, mine wild as ivy. He whispers my name, and I whisper his. I hold my breath as I unbuckle his pants—he’s wanted this since the moment we met. So have I. He pushes down my breeches, and I guide his hand to the place I need his touch, here, here, yeah, here, and we sway slowly, like we’re dancing, like we’re worshipping.

I watch and feel that hand do magical things, and he watches, too, and all of it makes me dizzy, makes me ache, makes me breathless.

Is this how it feels to be on fire?

Gasping, I hold his unflinching gaze in that mirror’s reflection as the glow of the nightstar lights us silver, as that light bathes us until the markings on our bodies glow. What do they mean?

Before I can dwell on that question, a knock on the door interrupts our caresses.

Lost in a realm Jadon and I created, we ignore whoever it is.

The knock becomes harder, insistent.

Jadon’s touch becomes more urgent, harder, insistent.

And in this moment, I make a choice: I choose him.

“Lady,” Separi calls through the door, “is Mister Ealdrehrt there with you?”

Jadon and I both pause and squint at each other, frustrated and almost amused. “For fuck’s sake,” I whisper.

“I can’t believe this.” He tightens his hold around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder and shouts, “I’m here.”

“Apologies,” Separi says, “but I must speak with you immediately. It won’t take long.”

I chuckle and push out a breath. “Can’t the Lady get what she wants?”

He gently bites my earlobe. “You will.”

“I must.”

He nuzzles my neck. “I’ll be back.” One more kiss, one more squeeze, and he’s off the bed and pulling on his clothes.

Still burning, I hold his gaze until the bedroom door separates us.

Growing faint, I release a pent-up breath and slip back into the sheets. Eyes closed, I will him to come back to me…

Light tapping pulls me from sleep and intrudes on my dreams.

I turn over in bed, reaching out instinctively for Jadon but—

Cold sheets.

Where is he?

My limbs feel so weak, but all of me feels so… full .

Because Jadon wants to stay by my side and trek to Mount Devour.

That tapping…

My gaze slips over to the window.

Several moths are bumping against the glass.

Relief floods through me, and I smile, seeing my winged friends again. I saw too many dead ones on the trek here, and I’m comforted to see so many—

I gasp and sit up abruptly in bed.

Moths! Does this mean my amulet is near? With a surge of adrenaline, I push open the window, and cold air rushes in, carrying with it the moths. Something faint stirs within me.

That rhythmic pulse. Is that pulse my pendant?

The moths dance around me, and I’m tingling and numb. I hold still and listen for my amulet. It’s calling out to me as these moths swirl and twirl around my head.

My lungs fill with excitement, and my heart flickers with hope.

I’m so close.

Where is Jadon? If only he were here to witness this. To know that we are so close. To watch and delight in this kaleidoscope.

I press my cheeks and let myself smile as I imagine his eyes lighting up with joy. I’m going to be better. It’s all going to be better. As I rise from the bed, a wave of joyful dizziness washes over me, and I drop back onto the mattress. My knees are delightfully weak. I punch my thighs a few times, coaxing the blood back into circulation, relishing the tingling that now rushes through my limbs.

If only Veril were here to share this moment. I pause, wistful as I picture the Renrian’s face. His absence brings to focus the challenges we’ve faced, the mission I’ve yet to complete.

The sky is lightening. An early breakfast—such a simple pleasure—would fuel me for the tasks ahead. After breakfast, we’ll search the area for more moths, and if needed, we’ll head to Weeton, retrieve my amulet, and then hurry on to the sea and Mount Devour. And once our journey is over, once I am whole, Jadon and I will return to this inn, to this intimacy and bed…to this mirror. We won’t answer any knocks, nor will we open the door. We will not leave this room or each other. We will be selfish.

I dress quickly, pulling on my breeches, bandeau, vest, and each piece of luclite armor. My hair feels healthy, sparkling with loving care and strands of precious magical metal. With Fury and Warruin secured in my back sheath and Little Lava at my ankle, I grab my satchel and head out, taking a last meditative look at this most special place in the realm.