Malice (Malice Duology #1)(68)

I can say nothing. It’s hard to imagine anything like love beating beneath Tarkin’s duplicitous skin.

“Maybe it was true love once. But somewhere it soured. And when I think of having to spend the rest of my life trapped with someone I no longer care about”—she hesitates, but only for an instant—“I might rather die.”

“Don’t say that. Briar can’t lose you.”

I can’t lose you, my heart whispers.

Without thinking, I move beside her and scoop her limp hand into mine. Her fingers are cold, but heat rushes through me, skipping across every nerve. It is the same dizzying feeling my magic gives me, and I lean into it.

“If I do reign”—Aurora’s voice takes on a hard determination—“things will be different for you. They will not call you Dark Grace anymore. You will be Alyce. Just Alyce.”

“Just Alyce,” I echo, the words like sugared pastry crust on my tongue. Light and sweet and utterly impossible. But I gobble down every bit anyway. Even though I know I’ll be sick.

    “Advisor to the queen.”

I yank myself free of her grasp, staring at Aurora like she’s grown horns. “You don’t mean that. You can’t—”

“You are speaking to your future queen.” She lifts her chin and looks down her nose at me in the exact manner her mother achieves. “And I can do whatever I like. I desire to have only the brightest minds at my table. There’s no one more deserving.”

Heat stings behind my eyes.

Much can change between the ascension of a princess to a queen, Kal had said. And I am leaving Briar. Aurora might soon be dead.

But there’s no help for it. I feel as though I’ve drunk too much fizzy wine: tipsy and effervescent. And for the first time, I let myself envision it: Staying here. Aurora on the throne. Not needing to Shift to hide my face because I am elevated to a new rank. Respected. With Aurora, I could bury the Dark Grace without having to step foot on a ship.

“Will you accept, Alyce?”

Doubts and questions and a hundred thousand other thoughts send me reeling. But Aurora is my anchor. She takes my hand, interlacing our fingers, and I can’t tell which wildfire pulse is hers and which is mine. I let my gaze linger on an errant curl that brushes the ledge of her jawline. I want to touch it. The soft spun-gold and the warm silk of her skin. Her lips part and I find myself leaning in, unable to feel anything but a rampant, reckless desire.

A draft of frigid wind slams into my back as the door to the Lair opens.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Aurora springs away from me, drawing her hood close to her face and fleeing to the other side of the chamber. A cold panic explodes through every limb. We’ve been discovered. Aurora’s guards have followed her here and will take me to the dungeons. The queen will have my head for defying her instructions.

But it’s Laurel.

She hovers like one of Kal’s shadows just inside the Lair, golden eyes like fireflies in the darkness. My mouth opens, emitting a sound between a whimper and a croak.

“Delphine retired for the night,” Laurel says, dividing a look between me and Aurora’s trembling back. “Your door was unlocked. I assumed you were free.”

Damn it all to the sea and back. No one’s come looking for me before.

“I— I am. The appointment ran longer than expected, but the patron is leaving.”

    Aurora has her scarf around her face and looks like she’s about to bolt for the door.

“If that’s a ‘patron.’?” Laurel crosses her arms. The walls of the Lair creak.

“Who else could it be?” The last syllable curves to a squeak. I clear my throat.

“Your book dealer, obviously.” She points at the table, where a stack of the princess’s latest haul is haphazardly arranged. “Is one of those for me?”

The books. Relief washes over me in a giddy wave, spilling out in a nervous screech of a laugh that makes Callow bridle and snap her beak. “Y-Yes. I almost forgot.”

I grapple for the first book I see, History of Briar. There couldn’t possibly be anything incriminating in it. Or anything Laurel doesn’t already know, for that matter. She accepts it with a slight frown, dusting off the cover with the sleeve of her jade dressing gown and clicking her tongue at the state of the pages.

“Are you also the curator?” She throws the question at Aurora, who shakes her head emphatically. “Well, whoever is charged with the care of these volumes should be ashamed. These books are in disgraceful condition.”

The princess nods. And the three of us just look at one another. I’m sure Laurel can hear the battering of my heart. Feel the ache of my breath trapped in my lungs. But she only utters a hasty good night and glides out, her eyes never leaving her new prize.

The moment the door closes behind her, Aurora and I collapse into each other, sides aching with a mixture of laughter and tears.



* * *



—

    It’s late when I’m finally alone, and I want nothing more than to drag myself upstairs for a few hours of much needed sleep. But every inch of me is on fire, kindled by the memory of my almost-kiss with Aurora. If it was an almost-kiss. She mentioned nothing about it before she left. I was imagining things, I tell myself. I leaned into her. She would have shoved me away, disgusted that I’d even thought she could want me.