Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove, #1)(86)

“It’s not you.” I clutched him closer in the gathering shadows, breathing in his scent. It melded perfectly with the comforting smells of the attic. Of my home. “It’s me. But I—I can try. I can try to tell you.”

“No. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

I shook my head determinedly. “Please . . . ask me.”

His hand stilled on my hair, and the world stilled with it—not unlike the eerie calm before magic. Even the breeze through the window seemed to pause, lingering in my hair, between his fingers. Waiting. I forgot how to breathe.

But the question never came.

“Are you from Cesarine?” His hand trailed down my hair to the small of my back, and the wind swept on, dissatisfied. I focused on the gentle movement, disappointment and hideous relief warring in my heart.

“No. I grew up in a small community north of Amandine.” I smiled wistfully against his chest at the half-truth. “Surrounded by mountains and sea.”

“And your parents?”

The words flowed easier now, the tightness in my chest easing as the immediate danger passed. “I never knew my father. My mother and I are . . . estranged.”

His hand halted again. “She’s alive, then?”

“Yes. Very.”

“What happened between the two of you?” He pulled back, searching my face with renewed interest. “Is she here in Cesarine?”

“I sincerely hope not. But I’d rather not talk about what happened. Not yet.”

Still a coward.

“Fair enough.”

Still a gentleman.

His gaze fell to my scar, and he bent down slowly, brushing a kiss against it. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. “How did you get this?”

“My mother.”

He jerked back as if the silver line had bitten him, horror clouding his eyes. “What?”

“Next question.”

“I— Lou, that’s—”

“Next question. Please.”

Though his brows still furrowed in concern, he pulled me to him once more. “Why did you become a thief?” His voice grew rougher, graver, than before. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him tight.

“To get away from her.”

He tensed against me. “You’re not going to elaborate, are you?”

I rested my cheek against his chest and sighed. “No.”

“You had a cruel childhood.”

I almost laughed. “Not at all. My mother pampered me, actually. Gave me everything a little girl could ever want.”

His voice dripped with disbelief. “But she tried to kill you.” When I didn’t answer, he shook his head, sighing and stepping away. My arms fell heavy to my sides. “It must be one hell of a story. I’d like to hear it someday.”

“Reid!” I swatted his arm, all thoughts of blood rituals and altars falling away, and an incredulous grin split my face. He looked suddenly sheepish. “Did you just curse?”

“Hell isn’t a curse word.” He refused to meet my eyes, staring instead at the racks of costumes behind me. “It’s a place.”

“Of course it is.” I inched back to the window, the beginning of a smile tugging on my lips. “Speaking of fun places . . . I want to show you another secret.”





Where You Go


Lou


He collapsed on the rooftop a few moments later, white-faced and panting, his eyes shut tight against the open sky. I poked him in the ribs. “You’re missing the view.”

He clenched his jaw and swallowed as if about to be sick. “Give me a minute.”

“You do realize how ironic this is, right? The tallest man in Cesarine is afraid of heights!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

I lifted one of his eyelids and grinned at him. “Just open your eyes. I promise you won’t regret it.”

His mouth tightened, but he opened his eyes grudgingly. They widened when he saw the sweeping expanse of stars before us.

I hugged my knees to my chest and gazed up at them with longing. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Soleil et Lune was the tallest building in Cesarine, and it offered the only unimpeded view of the sky in the entire city. Above the smoke. Above the smell. The whole of the heavens stretched out in one great panorama of obsidian and diamond. Infinite. Eternal.

There was only one other place with a view like this . . . and I would never visit the Chateau again.

“They are,” Reid agreed quietly.

I sighed and held myself tighter against the chill. “I like to think God paints the sky just for me on nights like this.”

He tore his gaze from the stars in disbelief. “You believe in God?”

What a complicated question.

I propped my chin on my knees, still peering upward. “I think so.”

He sat up. “But you rarely attend Mass. You—you celebrate Yule, not No?l.”

I shrugged and picked at a bit of dead leaf in the snow. It crinkled beneath my fingers. “I never said it was your god. Your god hates women. We were an afterthought.”

“That isn’t true.”

I finally turned to face him. “Isn’t it? I read your Bible. As your wife, am I not considered your property? Do you not have the legal right to do whatever you please with me?” I grimaced, the memory of the Archbishop’s words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “To lock me in the closet and never think of me again?”