Page 117 of Mother of Death and Dawn

I kissed him again. Again, again. My hands slid over his head, his hair, his neck, his shoulders. I memorized him all over again.

Something was building between us, a growing fissure. Every sense was connected to him. Every breath. A haze fell over me that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

He pulled away. “You’re drunk.”

He kissed me one more time, gently. His hand slowly released my hair, at the same time as he let out three heaving breaths, visibly struggling to collect himself. His eyes searched mine.

“Not like this,” he murmured, voice rough.

He was going to ruin this moment of suspension. I didn’t want to let it go, because I feared that we would never reclaim it if we let it slip away.

I leaned in closer again, but he withdrew. He looked down, brows furrowed.

“Tisaanah—”

“What?” I whispered.

And then I realized something odd—that warm light now fell over Max’s face. I followed his stare, where Max cradled my right hand, palm up.

The gold mark was glowing.

I gasped.

“You have been difficult to find.”

My head snapped up to see Ishqa standing in the doorway.

I was about to show him the wayfinder. But something about the look on his face that made even those important words fall from my lips.

“What happened?” I scrambled off Max’s lap, too worried to be embarrassed. “What’s wrong?”

Ishqa said, “Come. We need to talk.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE

AEFE

Two days later, Meajqa arrived at my room bearing a book, a lopsided smirk, and an obnoxiously chipper attitude.

“Good afternoon, my ill-tempered friend. Apparently, we will be spending plenty of time together. How do you feel about romances?”

I had been crawling the walls. Even my magic had grown frenetic and unpredictable. When I heard the knock on the door, I thought it would be Caduan. When I saw Meajqa’s face instead, I failed to hide my scowl.

His brows lurched. “Well, that’s always the expression I like to see when I enter a room.”

“Where is Caduan?”

“He isn’t here.”

“Why?”

“Because he is in Threll.”

I was confused. “You went to Threll also, did you not? The attack must have launched by now.”

“It has. The king is overseeing it.”

Words escaped me. I had imagined that Caduan was managing the diplomatic agreements, like Meajqa, and then returning. Not that he personally was charging into a battlefield on Threll’s behalf. Memories careened through me of seas of bodies and how easily they broke.

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