Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(57)

Grant’s fake smile grew even stiffer. “It’s the watchman. He’s walking over.”

I met Grant’s eyes in alarm. I’d been face-to-face with the watchman. Even without the wig, he might recognize me. I averted my gaze as he stomped up to the militiaman and sputtered out what he’d seen.

“I didn’t get a good look at him. But I think he had a beard. Gray. The girl was blonde. Pretty. Had a mask.”

“Search around if you want,” said the bartender, more weary than concerned about housing thieves.

“Let’s split up,” said the militiaman.

I didn’t hear what they said next. All I knew was that I couldn’t let them see my face. I couldn’t be caught, not after everything I’d done to get to Adoria. My heartbeat roaring in my ears, I climbed over to Grant’s lap without any warning and kissed him, angling my body and face away from the bar. His shock lasted only a second, and then he put his hands on my hips, fingers curling tightly into me. His mouth opened against mine, and the taste of his tongue and his lips flooded my senses as my earlier panic melted away. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and one of his hands slid up my back, entangling itself in my hair. His other hand pushed my mask up, and I opened my eyes, meeting his for the space of a breath before our mouths were on each other again. His teeth grazed my lips, and every part of my body tensed, eager for . . . something.

A man cleared his throat loudly behind us, and it took my addled brain several moments to even register it. I quickly shoved my mask down and broke from Grant. We both looked up and saw the scowling bartender standing over us with crossed arms. The watchman and militiaman were nowhere in sight.

“I don’t care if she isn’t one of our girls,” the bartender said. “You want to do that, you take her upstairs and pay for a room like everyone else.”

Grant blinked a few times and then gently pushed me back to my chair. “I’ll take her to my place. Er, that is, we’re leaving.” He stood up and tossed a few coins on the table, though his eyes scanned the tavern as he did. A quick nod at me said we were in the clear, and the two of us walked to the tavern door. Or, well, I limped. We paused once more at the porch, double-checking for our pursuers, but they’d moved on.

We made our way slowly down the street, and he offered once to let me lean on him. I shook my head. “It’s not so bad,” I lied. I was afraid to touch him again. I was afraid to say anything. We walked back to the bakery in silence, and I had to resist the urge to touch my lips and trace where his had been.

“Grant . . .” I found my courage and had to swallow a few times before continuing. “Should we—that is—do we need to talk about—”

“No,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“No? You don’t have anything to say?”

“No.” His voice held its usual flippancy, but it felt fragile. Like it was a struggle to maintain it. “Is there something you want me to say?”

Lots of things. Like why he hadn’t been faking. He was an exceptional actor, but he hadn’t kissed me like he was putting on a show. He’d kissed me like he wanted to consume me. And he pulled me to him like . . . well, like he just wanted me, pure and simple.

What do you want him to say? Why are you searching for something complicated? I demanded of myself. I sought shelter in a cocky attitude. “Mostly I just want to hear you acknowledge that I was a better choice than Silas tonight.”

“Well, certainly in some—” He looked ahead, toward his building, and groaned. “Wonderful.”

I followed his gaze. “What?”

Aiana stood in front of the bakery below his loft, a horse tethered nearby. She was leaning against a post and snapped to attention when she saw us, her face a thundercloud. Immediately, she began yelling at Grant in Balanquan. He kept his calm when he answered back in the same language, but it only seemed to make her angrier.

She was in the middle of another tirade when I said, “Wait, wait. This isn’t his fault. I volunteered. And if it helps, he protested.”

Aiana switched to Osfridian. “Well, apparently not enough! Come on, we’re going home. It’s a miracle no one noticed you were gone in the ball’s aftermath. Well, I’m sure Adelaide noticed.”

“It was a one-time thing,” Grant said. “It was my fault.”

Aiana turned on him. “Of course it was your fault! You should’ve never gotten her involved with any of this.”

“She can make her own decisions. She got herself involved with this.”

“With your prompting! Don’t drag her into your reckless lifestyle. Don’t make her like you! She has a good chance here. A chance for stability and happiness, maybe even love.”

Grant’s calm and collected air disintegrated into angry disbelief. “With an arranged marriage to the highest bidder? How’d that work out for you with Mishi, Aiana? And where was your love and happiness when you were slinking in and out of that midwife’s bed? You should’ve learned your lesson from her, but I’m sure you’ve fallen in with some other disastrous lover while I’ve been gone.”

Aiana looked as though he’d slapped her. “At least I learn my lovers’ names,” she said quietly. “And at least I try for human connection. Maybe I fail, but I try.”