Page 101 of Daughter of No Worlds

Gods. It probably was. I lifted my eyes to him and placed a finger over my lips. “Only for you to know. And I only tell you this because I don’t want to embarrass myself when I ask you to dance with me.”

Silence. Such deep silence that the vestiges of distant music mixed with the suddenly-deafening pound of my heartbeat. Max stood there, back straight, hands clasped behind his back. For once, I could not read his expression.

“Or,” I said, lightly, “will you look back at this as the beginning of your downfall?”

“I…” He let out a breath, a chuckle, tucked his hands into his pockets. Then removed them. “My answer hinges upon one condition.”

“What?”

He took a step forward, and then another. I did, too, until our bodies were directly in front of each other, until I felt his warm hand slip into mine.

“No counting,” he said.

“Only this once.”

“Only this once.”

And his arm was already around my waist, my hands at his shoulders, by the time I whispered, “Deal.”

We swayed together, somewhat awkwardly, to distant music. My cheek just barely skimmed his. He smelled like ash and lilacs and the faint hint of the faraway sea.

“I did not think you would say yes,” I murmured. “I thought you weren’t made for social graces.”

His chuckle was silent, but we were so close that I felt it reverberate through his muscles. “Firstly,” he retorted, “we are alone. So ‘social’ does not apply.”

True.

“Secondly.” He attempted to launch me into a gentle twirl. We mistimed and stumbled, fracturing his next word with scuffed laughter. “There is nothing graceful about what we’re doing here.”

Verytrue.

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows, asking silent permission for a second attempt. I nodded, and we almost —almost— managed an actual twirl.

Except, I slid on the damp ground and, in my distraction, hurled myself against his chest. We both let outoofsof impact and my awkward laugh was still dying on my lips when I suddenly became so acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against mine. Of how much I liked it. How much I wanted to envelop myself in it.

My arms slid around his neck. He lowered me into something slightly resembling a dip, and I curled against him. Every nerve in my body was on fire, set aflame at the brush of his mouth against my cheek, the barest whisper against my skin as it traveled to my ear.

“So maybe,” he whispered, “I could be made for this.”

Maybe I could, too. Made, or unmade. In that moment, I didn’t care which.

* * *

We did,eventually — reluctantly, though neither of us admitted it aloud — return to the party. And I resumed my performance, collecting startled glances and horrified stares the same way that I once collected little silver coins. I told the truth to anyone who was bold enough to ask me, sparing no brutality, no ugliness, no responsibility.

Not enough.Never enough.

Those words still throbbed inside of me as Max and I finally left the party, long after the lights had begun to flicker out, long after Sammerin and Moth and most other guests had retreated. Since our one dreamlike dance, we had hardly spoken at all, right up until we stepped back into the familiar warmth of that cluttered living room.

In this setting, I suddenly felt ridiculous in my finery. Max must have too, because he immediately pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, releasing a sigh and another button of his collar.

“I have to say, Tisaanah, it was worth it to brave my first Order event in the better part of a decade just to see the looks on their faces when you were done with them.”

“I’m not done with them. I have barely begun.”

I had spent the night cutting myself up into little pieces for consumption, forcing people to acknowledge me, thrusting my pain into their faces. And now I felt like something in me was just… depleted. And for what? For their horrified stares? Was that enough?

Not enough. Never enough.

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