Chapter 1

“A toast to the happy couple!”

            Glasses clinked, and a ripple of cheers erupted at the long table, nearly drowning out the saxophones and trumpets as they blared their swing selections. The man that had toasted, a portly uncle of the groom’s, eyed the bride with a smile, his bushy grey mustache doing little to hide how his tongue darted out to lick his chapped lips. His crinkling eyes seemed as though they were trying to stare through her thin, sequined dress.

            The bride forced a smile and took a sip of her champagne. She knew this one by now. Ilden dan Risleif. Very popular radio show host. He never gave her a chance to forget.

Her groom’s arm twisted around her waist as he pulled her down into his lap. His face was a much more agreeable one to look at�"a strong jaw covered in a fine layer of black stubble, a set of sparkling gray eyes, and rather powerful cheekbones and nose were crowned with a smooth, soft cut of ashy black hair. His smile, unlike his uncle’s, was bright and genuine, revealing his white teeth through the dark pink lips.

            “Y’know,” he said as he looked out to his family, “I didn’t know what to expect when Dad told me I’d be marryin’ a Hinderian. I thought they were sendin’ me some lil’ wallflower from the fields, yeah? But look at her.” He turned back to his bride as he set his glass down and reached up to finger one of the bold red curls of her bob, brushing her chin with warm fingers. “She could’ve came right from Kouella’s mane. Huh, Sel?”

            She blushed, her own lips stretching into a shy smile as she took his hand. “Now, Niam,” she drawled, peering up at him through her lashes. “Your daddy could’ve thrown a rock and picked anyone�"I’m nothin’ special. Just somethin’ lucky.”

            “So modest,” Ilden’s wife chirped.

            Ida dan Risleif. Niam’s mama’s cousin. High fashion�"she makes some expensive wedding dresses. In fact, she made Sel’s.

Ida’s own dark, dark curls accentuated the pale glamour of her skin and hid the harsh, catlike angles of her thin face�"a look Sel had come to associate with the Biscovian side of his family. They were so sharp in their features that Sel often wondered�"with a bit of guilt afterwards�"if that was really how Biscovians looked, or if they had mystic blood somewhere in their gene pool.

            But she knew that was impossible. Mystics didn’t play with humans. The respectable mystics, anyway. She had to push back the inevitable thoughts of a certain someone�"thoughts that had her thankful she was already blushing.

            “So,” a sister of Niam’s squealed over the jazz as she tapped the ashes of her cigarette into a small ashtray, “where you two thinkin’ of goin’ for a honeymoon?” Her dark head of hair had been straightened�"Sel could see the creases in certain spots where her maids had clearly kept the heat on for a little too long. Her pointy teeth flashed through dark red lips, a mischievous smile that Sel liked to believe would keep shut and wait for an answer. Until she added, “Somewhere quiet? I imagine she’ll be frightenin’ anyone walkin’ by, with how loud�"“

            “Tousa,” another sister, the oldest, and a much daintier and well-behaved one, lightly slapped her sister’s arm before smoothing back her tightly wound bun, “we’re at the table.”

            “Oh, Lani, don’t be such a mystic.” Tousa puffed her cigarette again and smiled that same wolfish smile, her nose crinkling with her giggle as Lani gasped and made a face of mock horror. But then, Lani, too, couldn’t help a small giggle.

Sel’s face continued to burn, and the feeling was growing uncomfortable. Niam’s hand drifted to Sel’s hip, then her leg, squeezing her a bit through the thin fabric of her dress. He went to answer them, but Sel was preoccupied with the champagne, looking for one of the many servants to wave over and refill her glass. She prepared a couple dollars of a tip as she finally caught one’s attention An olive-skinned little mouse of a girl soon came fluttering over, her twin braids shining in the chandeliers’ light, and immediately poured more champagne while Niam said something or other about a trip to Irrilin, going on and on about their cities and beaches and whatever else. The servant girl smiled to herself.

            She must be from there, Sel mused. “A cigarette, too, honey.”

            The girl quickly drew one from a pack and let Sel take it in her mouth before producing a tiny lighter to light it with. Sel took a long drag and winked at the young girl, slipping the small tip into her hand, and the girl smiled again before scurrying off to one of the other guests holding their glasses out for a refill. These servants were speedy. The catering place Niam’s parents hired didn’t earn their reputation for nothing.

            “What d’you think of all that, Sel?” Niam asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

            “Oh, um, it sounds great.” The smoke puffed from her lungs with each word. “Yeah. Beaches. Cities. Great.”

            A round of laughter erupted at the table, and Niam shook his head, his own chest rumbling a bit with his chuckle. Sel gave a sheepish smile before taking a sip of the champagne, and that same old uncle joked,

            “Looks like someone’s a bit too thirsty to think about all that right now.”

            Sel waved them off, but a chuckle bubbled up from her own throat as her face was, once again, tinged pink. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been listening better.”

            “Nah, don’ worry yourself.” Niam kissed her jaw. “I’m the one that needs to know, anyway. I gotta figure out which damn train we’re takin’. Still haven’t done that.”

            Another little burst of laughter. Sel bit back a sigh and forced a smile, shaking her head as though she were amused, too. Acting. All acting. She’d always wanted to be an actress. It seemed this marriage would give her quite the opportunity to practice.

            The champagne on her tongue went very, very bitter. She took another drag, hoping the smoke burning in her lungs would distract her.

            Two large men, connected by the deathly grasp of Niam’s youngest sister, came to the table to collect the other two sisters. Sel quizzed herself, studying them both. The taller one, with the honey brown hair, brown eyes, and well-groomed beard, went to Lani, his bear-like hands brushing her shoulder as he bent to whisper something to her.

            Daniel… Augeschin. Augeschin. Brakhurian. Silver tycoon.

            The other one, a somewhat thinner man with a softer jaw and a thinner frame, as well as dark, dark brown hair and bright green eyes, grinned as he bent to Tousa, his bony hand reaching down to brush the line of her jaw.

            Anthony Zutefeln. Father’s from Brakhur, but he’s Merlanyian. Owns the big theater chain… Avilion? Yeah, that’s it.

            As the two women were stolen away to dance, Sel puffed with pride. She remembered. Niam’s family was too damn big, bigger than a lot of families she’d had to entertain at home. And they really liked Biscovian women. She felt a little out of place�"at least Niam’s other uncle had a Hinderian wife.

            “Sel, I’m curious,” Ilden started, “how’s the situation in Hinden?”

            “I’m sorry? Situation?”

            “Y’know,” he motioned with his hands, “the terrorist situation.”

            “Oh, Ilden! Don’t bring up something so grim, we’re all having a good time!” Ida’s tone was playful, but despite her smile, her eyes narrowed.

            “I’m just curious! It’s been getting’ worse here. They’re still tryin’ to rebuild the Warden Hall in Petinel after that savage attack. Maybe there’s still hope across the sea for our moral defenders?” He eyed Sel expectantly.

            “I’m not sure, really,” Sel answered. Half her cigarette was already gone. “I think Hinden don’t mind our good lights, but I don’t really pay attention to that sort of stuff, anyhow.”

            “You don’t pay attention to a terrorist threat?” Ilden’s brows shot up.

            “Politics aren’t my thing.”

            “It’s a bit more than politics, lass. Listen to my show sometime, and you’ll know how dire the situation really is.” Ilden’s voice held a bit of an edge, but Ida was rolling her eyes beside him.

            “Uncle, really,” Niam huffed, “the only one seriously callin’ ‘em terrorists are those sparkly Wardens. And the only ones getting’ attacked are, conveniently, the Wardens. I’d say that’s more politics than it is terrorism, yeah?” He took a sip of his ale and smirked.

            “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to get it, youngin’,” Ilden crossed his arms, “but the Wardens are protectin’ us from their own kind and from demons. Demons, boy. Our own demons.” He tilted his chin up and looked down his nose at Niam. “They’re the only thing separatin’ us from those terrorists and keepin’ us from bein’ total animals. Ever think about that? When they go down, what’ll happen to us? We’ll be at the terrorists’ mercy and drownin’ in sin.”

            By this point, both Sel and Ida had gone very quiet. It was a touchy topic, the “terrorists” that kept attacking the mystic Wardens, and Ilden’s radio show was all about it.

            And, of course, there was a lot of buzz on the radio. And lots of Warden interference in the theaters�"some very polarized films were coming out. Lots of conflicting stories coming out in the papers about abused authority. Lots of whispers in the street about Wardens starting ablutions on humans and Nightcrawlers snatching criminals without a trial. Lots of very scandalous behavior spotted at night. Lots of fuss, all around. Ilden’s radio show was one of the few still running in the mystics’ favor.

            But Sel didn’t really tune into that topic. It was a bit too much.

            “Why should we help ‘em?” Niam made a face. “I say maybe these ‘terrorists’ are doin’ us a favor. Them Wardens have been up our asses for decades. I mean, really, you think that ‘public decency’ bill was actually Vilgeim’s idea?”

            “It started in his court�"!”

Niam waved him off. “No, it didn’t! We never cared about that kinda trash before them faeries decided we should! They’re stickin’ their noses where it don’t belong, and I think it’s just great that someone’s got the backbone to do somethin’ about it.”

            Ilden’s face contorted, his brows pinching and his cheeks going quite red. He was just about to say something when Ida grabbed his arm and urged everyone,

            “Let’s go dance! They’re playing one of my favorite songs!”

            She dragged Ilden away, whose face was still tomato red. Sel swallowed the last of her champagne and slumped against Niam. Her mind had started getting a little fuzzy. A servant hovered over to refill the glass, and she let it happen, but she didn’t take another sip. Her cigarette was at its end, so she reached up to crush it in the ashtray before leaning back.

            “You’re gonna get in trouble, talkin’ like that,” she whispered.

            Niam waved a hand. “Nah. The Wardens haven’t taken over free speech yet.”

            “But they could think you’re on the terrorists’ side.”

            “And they’d investigate and find nothin’. I’m on humanity’s side, yeah? I don’t like them fairies comin’ into our society and tryin’ to push that big blue goddess o’ theirs on us. And the way they look at us,” Niam shook his head, his lips twisting in a grimace, “knowin’ there’s nothin’, not a single feelin’ behind that stare, nah, it isn’t right. Makes me uncomfortable, havin’ ‘em anywhere near me.”

            Sel tried not to roll her eyes, and she murmured, “But terrorism’s wrong, Niam. Blowin’ things up, causin’ mayhem, that’s wrong.”

            Niam shrugged. “Yeah. Well. I dunno. But forget all that. Wanna dance?”

            “Hmm, yeah.” The saxophones were playing a smooth, slow song. “Yeah, I’ll dance.”

            “C’mon.” Niam helped her up and led her to the dancefloor.

            Between the fuzziness in her head and the thick, dizzyingly musky scent of his cologne, she didn’t mind how his warm, warm hands stroked her waist and hips, or held her against his rigid body.

            And between the dim lights, the gaggle of bodies on the floor, and the rich tones of the music, all thoughts of politics, of mystics, and even of her future, slipped right away.

 

♦

 

            The same hall that had been so alive with music and laughter seemed almost insidious when it was empty. In the moonlight, the deep red walls, they were monstrous. And the great big lion statues seemed to catch the light in all the wrong ways, the crinkles of their roaring jaws highlighted, their golden teeth shining. The housemaids had yet to clean the room, and there was still glitter and bits of trash all over the white marble floors. The chandeliers above looked cold without the gentle lights on, and the paintings of Niam’s forefathers stared down at her, watching her, tracking her through the hall. Niam had already gone to bed, and Sel had gone to her room, too, but she couldn’t sleep. It was the last night of her life.

            She didn’t want to spend it asleep.

            And so, she tugged her coat tighter around her and quietly slipped through the hall, out to the balcony, and down the wooden steps to the yard, where she made sure the guards were busy scouting the other side of the house. She’d done this enough times the past two weeks to know exactly where they were and how quickly she had to move, and soon enough, she had walked her little self straight off the property, entirely unseen.

            Sel pulled her scarf over her hair, carefully concealing the red curls that still blazed, even in the soft moonlight. She made it to the street and hailed a cab, directing the somewhat droopy-eyed driver to a small bar on the shoddier side of town. It was funny, really. As grand and famous as Ronna was, being Merlanye’s capital and all, it still had those parts. The less than glamorous parts that made every city the exact same under the surface.

            The drive was short, but it felt like an hour had passed. Her stomach was twisting violently, her heart heavy�"this was the last night she’d do this.

            The last damn night.

            I don’t want tomorrow to come.

            Kouella, please.

            I’m sorry.

            But let tonight be longer than tomorrow.

            Please.

            Her chest tightened around her already heavy heart, her throat squeezing. She bit her lip and told herself, again and again, that she wasn’t married yet. That this wasn’t sin yet.

            Or maybe it was. Her fingers twirled around each other as her chest squeezed tighter. If it wasn’t sin, she wouldn’t feel this way.

            Right?

            With a huff, she pushed the thought away. She’d repent later.

Finally, the cab pulled up to the curb of a tiny, somewhat shabby bar. Callander’s. It would never be her first choice, but it’s the only place she can go for some solitude in this otherwise watchful, prying city. She dug in her coat pockets and paid the man perhaps a few dollars too much, but she didn’t care. Without so much as a glance back at the cab driver, she quickly escaped into the bar.

            It was a small, small place, one where the lighting was a little low and the few scragglers that hung around minded their own business. The walls were wooden, the floor covered in shaggy carpets, and only a couple potted plants sitting in the corner. Sel took a breath as she wandered to the stools at the bar, her shoulders slumping a little as she noticed that all of them were empty. As she slid onto one of the stools and pulled her scarf off, she was presented with a plum cocktail.

            “Thanks, Mav,” she sighed to the bartender, a quiet, balding man whose round, dark glasses hid his eyes, but not the very faint wrinkles and the few gray hairs in his mustache. The biggest source of light came from behind him, illuminating all the glasses and different bottles of alcohol the little bar had to offer.

            He nodded to her, silent as ever, and began polishing a glass. A few moments passed as she sipped her drink, and she looked around every so often, but she was still alone by time she hit the bottom of her glass. Mav discreetly slipped a new one her way and took the empty glass back.

            “Have you seen him around?” Sel sipped the second cocktail, pleased with the ginger beer spice, the tartness, and the modest amount of alcohol. Mav knew she didn’t like the bitterness.

            “No, little miss, I haven’t.”

            “When’s he gonna get here, you think?”

            “Dunno.”

            Sel rolled her eyes and played with the lime wedge he’d put on her glass. “Little tramp could stand to show up on time, with all the drinks I buy him.”

            “Tramp, am I?”

            The deep, trilled rumble of a voice floated from the shadows, like the low growl of a big cat. Sel’s head snapped towards it, though nothing was there. Nothing yet. But from the shadows, two ivory moons shone. Then, a man bled forth, practically materializing from nothing, his long, wispy hair brushing his shoulders, framing his outlandishly sharp and pale face. His pale lips were curled back in a lazy grin that seemed strangely authentic, his white teeth flashing, and his black shirt and slacks had his tall, strong frame nearly indistinguishable from the darkness until he stepped further into the light. That light also caught the glint of his silver earrings and the one silver bead holding a single, thin little braid together on the left side of his head, as well as the chain of the necklace he kept under his shirt. He was cruelly beautiful, especially those two moonlit eyes�"eyes with pupils small as the point of a needle.

            A mystic. A mystic of shadow.

            Sel looked back at her drink, desperately trying to ignore him as he slid onto the stool beside her, but her lips betrayed her as they curled into a cheeky grin. He moved closer, she could hear him shift�"and she held back a giggle as she felt the breath of his whisper,

            “Rude thing, you are.”

            His voice, it made goosebumps prick her skin�"so exotic, their accents. Her stomach fluttered with him so close, and she finally turned to look at him, nearly nose to nose. Those ivory eyes were half closed, yet they pierced hers, sending another wave of flutters through her. And even though she knew better, she wanted to believe they weren’t empty. That his lips, now quirked in a little smirk, were actually reflecting something inside him. Some kind of emotion. Something.

            But that was the difference between his kind and hers. Different Mothers. Kouella made her with a heart; Aeyula made him lacking one. It was sobering, and it made her lungs fill with the urge to sigh. She held it back and kept a smile on her face as she murmured,

            “Rude’s leavin’ a girl at a bar by herself. Ain’t you got any better manners than that, Devroz?”

            He pulled back from her and looked to Mav, who dutifully slid a glass of whisky on the rocks his way, and asked, “Mav, what do you think? Have I got better manners?”

            “Nah.”

            Sel giggled as Devroz feigned offense. He was good at mimicking human expressions. “Don’t I always leave a tip?”

            “Not a good one.”

            Her giggles became a fit of laughter, and the mystic waved him off, smiling slightly as he took a sip of the drink, completely unfazed by the bite of the liquor. Sel admired his profile�"a strong nose, cheekbones sharper than broken glass, and that beautiful, straight, silky hair that seemed to be made of inky shadows. His glass tapped the counter as it came back down, and his question broke her moment of admiration.

            “So, tomorrow.”

            All her spirits came crashing down as she looked back into her own drink. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

            “Does it make you sad?”

            “Yeah.” Though that was putting it mildly. He wouldn’t know what that felt like, to be ripped away from home, thrust into some stranger’s arms like a toy. It hurt to know that he couldn’t understand the feeling, though she didn’t wish it on him.

            Devroz reached out and took her hand, his palm cool from the glass. Despite her knowing better, her heart ruffled again, fluttering a bit as he moved closer to her. He offered a soft kiss, pressing his lips against her hair.

            “I wish it didn’t.”

            “Why? You don’t know what it feels like. For all you know, it could feel great.”

            “Sadness?”

            “Yeah.”

            Devroz drew back and studied her for a moment, then put a smile on his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I know it doesn’t.”

            “How?”

            He took another sip of his drink, his eyes drifting away. “I’ve seen what it does.”

            “Don’t mean you know.”

            Glancing her way, he mused, “Perhaps.”

            Sel watched the ice float in his glass. She hadn’t asked a lot of questions out of politeness, but this was her last night out, and she was curious. “Aren’t you not allowed to drink? Ain’t that a sin for y’all, or somethin’ like that?”

            Devroz, too, watched the ice, and he shrugged. “It’s considered a vanity.”

            “What’s that?”

            “An unnecessary pleasure. The sin comes from being drunk. Or enjoying too many vanities.” His lips pulled down into a slight frown, as though the thought were bothering him, but it quickly disappeared.

            “So why are you drinkin’?”

            “Because I can.”

            “But you can’t. Unless you’re one of them, what are they called? ‘Jil-rohs’?”

            “’Zhil-row’. Like the ‘s’ in pleasure. Not a ‘j’. And it’s already plural. Dzhilrov.”

            “Dzhilrov. Got it.” She huffed at his little lesson. “You one of them?”

            “Asking some personal questions tonight, little fox.”

            “I wanna know.”

            His brows pinched for a second, and he muttered, “Yes.”

            Sel blinked, her stomach twisting in unease. They said shadows were the worst when they were Dzhilrov. But she knew better to be outright afraid of old Dev. “And what, that just means you got kicked out of their club? That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Now you can do what you want. Right?”

            Again, those bright eyes slid her way, but his expression softened as he saw her wide, wary eyes. He explained in a much gentler voice,

            “It’s not a club, Sel. It’s our whole society. I’m barred from all of it, with no way back in. But yes, it means I can do whatever I want, within reason.”

            On impulse, she reached out to touch his forearm, the long-building sigh finally escaping. “I’m sorry, Dev. Sounds awful.” And yet, she couldn’t help prying further. “How’d it happen?”

            “Did my job wrong.”

            “How?”

            “Hey,” he leaned forward and put that same smile back on, “no more about me. I promise it’s nothing entertaining. Alright?”

            Despite his smile, his gaze was pointed, and Sel took the hint. “Alright.”

            “Now how are we going to celebrate your last few hours as a single woman?” One hand reached out to skim up her waist, and she shivered, biting her lip as she smiled.

            “I dunno,” she drawled, turning back to her drink and taking a long sip. “Up to you.”

            “Up to me?” He moved closer, pressing his lips to her jaw, her throat.

            “Yeah.” Her voice was a breath, her face burning as his teeth grazed her skin. “You know my rule, though.” Sel’s gaze fluttered to Mav, who was politely looking standing at the other end of the bar, focusing on the glass in his hand.

            “Silly rule.”

            “Don’t matter.”

            She knew he was rolling his eyes, but he pulled away and threw money down on the counter before she could, quite a bit of money, before he led her off the stool. His grip on her hand was gentle as he guided her through the bar to a back room�"a simple lounge, one she’d grown plenty acquainted with since meeting the strange creature before her. For a grungy little bar, the space was clean, the wide, plush green couch free of spots and the smooth wooden floor carefully swept, the lamp on the nightstand dangling pretty pink fringe that matched the little rug in the middle of the room. But she knew better. The fact that there even was a lounge like this was a testament to how classless the bar really was, but she didn’t care much anymore. Devroz locked the door behind them, sealing off all the light before Sel could turn the lamp on. The darkness would’ve frightened her, but not with him there.

            In the darkness, he was infinite. He was everywhere, cocooning her in a cool, soft presence that made her feel safe, hidden. Her coat unbuttoned and slid off of its own accord, and the zipper of her gown tugged down, slowly, almost notch by notch. Magic. She felt smooth fingers pull down the sleeve of her dress, and lips followed, trailing over her skin.

            “Dev,” she sighed, “turn the light on. I wanna see you.”

            His chuckle came from every corner of the room, but he drew away and did as he was told. When the light clicked on, he was there, in one piece. His necklace was already hanging from the lampshade, swinging with the fringe. Rather than echo through the room, his voice came from his lips, which were curved in what looked like amusement.

            “I like the dark.”

            “I know you do, you rat.”

            He drifted closer, still chuckling, tall enough that her head only met his shoulders, and he undid the rest of her zipper. Her dress fell in a pool of sequined, fluttery fabric at her feet, leaving her in nothing but peach colored underwear. Her cheeks blazed, though she didn’t look away as he looked at her, assessing her like a piece of art in a museum. And when he came closer, his lips found hers this time, hands gliding over her bare skin. The blaze that swallowed her face quickly consumed the rest of her as his lips�"smooth and soft�"worked against hers.

Her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open, and they invaded, feeling his own cool body. When his lips wandered from hers, she took the opportunity to look at him. On his chest was a scar that she always found herself looking at�"a hand shaped burn with two of their strange mystic runes printed over it. She never asked what it was. She never dared. Whatever it was, it didn’t look particularly positive. Perhaps it was a mark of him being one of those outcasts, the Dzhilrov. He pressed her against him, erasing it from her view, and for a moment, she thought she could feel his heart beating just as strongly as hers. She wished it were true.

            Devroz pushed her onto that big couch, and there they toyed around for quite some time, shedding all their clothes and undergoing a delightful frenzy of kissing, and biting and other such pleasures. But he was careful about her rule�"she stayed untouched in the most important way. That was for Niam first. Common girls ran around with no regard for their future husbands, and she didn’t have the luxury of being like them.

            Though I’d love to let Dev at me first. At all.

            She’d never get to. It made her heart sink to her gut.

            They laid there on the couch, Sel just finishing one of her own cigarettes, and Devroz pulled at one of the countless wild curls on her head. His other arm draped over her, pressing her to him. It was strange. So sweet a lover, yet so wild, better than most men she’d heard stories about, and he didn’t even have the ability to feel anything from it. Sel curled into his chest and let her curiosity get her in trouble again.

            “Can you even feel pleasure from things like this?”

            The hand that had been gently playing with her curls suddenly flattened against her head, ruffling her hair into a wild mess as she squealed and slapped it away.

            “Of course I can. My body works just as yours does.”

            Sel squirmed away from him, failing to appear angry as she giggled. Devroz rolled onto her and rested his chin on her stomach, his hands reaching under her to trap her in an embrace.

            “Would I be considered a vanity?” Sel blinked down at him.

            “Oh, the worst,” he kissed her stomach. “Beyond a vanity. Pure sin.”

            “And you’re alright with that?”
            “According to the Magisterium, I won’t be getting into heaven anyway.” He gave a crooked smile as he pulled himself up to her face. “I’ll take all the sin I can get.”

            She smiled back, briefly, before reaching up to poke his lips. “Why do you make faces if you don’t feel anything?”

            All expression in his face dropped, his porcelain skin arranging into a blank, horrific mask. “Would you rather me be like this?” Even his voice became flat and monotone.

            “No!” Sel burst out laughing, half amused, half terrified. “No, absolutely not!”

            His face twisted into a content smile as he let her laugh. They laid together in silence for a few moments, and Devroz cupped her face in his broad hands. He really was quite big compared to her. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, his eyes scouring every inch of her face. For a moment, Sel could’ve sworn she saw something shift in his eyes�"some kind of glint of some emotion. But she was sure she was just projecting. At least, she was sure until his lips parted, and a little whisper floated down from them.

            “Don’t get married tomorrow.”

            The request sounded so genuine. It made her chest flutter ever so softly as she searched for that sincerity in his bright, cold eyes. She couldn’t quite find it, and she stared off and sighed.

            “I have to.”

            “No, you don’t. You don’t have to do anything.”

            She peered up at him, a smile cracking across her face. Then the smile faded. “No. I have to. Else Daddy’s gonna kick me right out of the family.” Her voice wavered. Not that I was ever really in the family.

            “You’re worried about that? I’m sure he would understand.”

            Sel laughed. “No, not him. I’m a good deal for him, y’know?”

            Devroz looked genuinely puzzled, his brow creasing just a bit as he tilted his head to one side. He stayed silent, but shook his head.

            “Me marryin’ Niam? Come on now, Dev. That’s big money right there. Niam’s daddy paid a lot for me to come here and marry his boy.”

            “Yes, but wouldn’t your father care if you were unhappy with that?”

            She shook her head. “I’m not a son. I gotta get married off to some big tycoon to be worth anythin’ to him, else he won’t keep me around for the will. My Daddy’s old money like that. If I were common, I might be able to go do what I want, y’know?”

            Devroz gazed down at her with bright, soft eyes, and he let out a long breath, as though he were actually displeased with the idea. “What do you want to do?”

            “I wanted to be an actress. A big star. Like Meida Alavan.”

            “I don’t know who that is.”

            “She’s a big name in romance, made all my favorite pictures.”

            “Ah.” He pursed his lips in thought. “Why don’t you come with me? You won’t need some silly will. I’ll help you.”

            Her laughter rang out in the little lounge. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just�"wait, come with?” She propped herself up on her elbows, all laughter gone. “Where you goin’?”

            “Someplace different.”

            “Which is?”

            “I’ll tell you if you come with me.”

            Sel’s entire chest squeezed, threatening to collapse and suffocate her. He was leaving. She knew she wouldn’t be fooling around with him like this anymore, but not seeing him at all? The thought had never crossed her mind. Like an idiot, she just assumed he’d be there for her to run to whenever. Of course he wouldn’t. He was his own man. Of course he’d have other things to do, other places to see�"

            “Hey,” Devroz gently gripped her chin. “It’ll be alright. Just come with me. We could even go right now if you wanted.”

            “I-no, no I can’t. I can’t, Dev. I gotta do this. You’re goin’ for good?”

            “Yes.”

            She bit her lip hard enough that she thought she’d break skin. He was the one thing that made Merlanye worth it�"so interesting, so good. And he was going.

            Devroz watched her, his gaze dropping to her lips for a moment, and he said, “Sleep on it. You need to be getting home if you want to look alive tomorrow. I’ll come to your wedding�"is that okay?”

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            “Alright, I’ll come a bit before. If you decide you want to go, I’ll sneak you out. If not, I’ll be there for the ceremony. Does that sound fair?”

            Tears pricked her eyes as she continued to chew her lip. She nodded, and he bent to kiss her, tugging her lip from her teeth. The kiss was soft, sweet, and it made the tears spill over as her heart clenched so painfully. When he pulled back, he wiped the tears away.

            “Come, get dressed. You need to go home.”

            Sel laid back on the couch and threw her arms over her face. He was right, but she didn’t want to get up.

            She didn’t want the morning to already be so close.