The bits of chromium crunched beneath her boots as Nova stepped closer. She knelt and picked it up, cradling the helmet in both hands.
It did not look dangerous. It did not even look foreboding.
It looked merely as though it had been waiting for her.
CHAPTER FORTY
RUBY ANDOSCARwere dancing again when Adrian left the gala. Nova had been gone for more than an hour, and he’d spent some time chatting with Kasumi and her husband and mingling with a few of the patrols he’d trained with years ago but rarely saw anymore, except in passing. He’d eaten his dessert—a sweet and creamy lemon custard—and had given Nova’s to Ruby’s brothers to share. He’d danced once with Ruby and once with Oscar’s mom.
But he’d been counting the minutes since Nova had left, biding his time before he could leave without the truth being completely obvious.
Without her there, he just wasn’t interested in dancing and small talk. All he wanted was to go home, lie down in the jungle he had made, and think of the next time he would see her.
The next time he would kiss her.
He couldn’t stop grinning as he left the gala and tucked his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. His marker was there and he pulled it out and rolled it between his palms.
He should draw something for Nova, to give to her when they saw each other in the morning. Just a little something to remind her of the past couple of nights. The past couple of amazing nights. Something to let her know he was thinking about her. That he was serious about her.
He knew Nova was slow to trust. Slow to let go of her uncertainties. Slow to risk getting hurt. He thought he understood her better now that she’d told him the truth of her parents, and her sister. Great skies, her baby sister. Evie.
His smile faded thinking about it. His heart twisted to imagine Nova, small and frightened Nova, having to endure something so horrific…
And though he knew, logically, that there wasn’t a person on this planet who needed his protection less than Nova McLain did, he couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to protect her anyway. To keep her from ever having to suffer like that again.
He twirled the marker, contemplating what gift he could draw that would encompass all that. His dress shoes were clacking noisily on the pavement, a steady cadence that followed him down the familiar, dark streets toward home.
He had just discarded the most obvious, trivial ideas—jewelry, flowers, a new weaponry belt—when a small movement darted past his vision, nearly smacking into his glasses.
Adrian reeled back. At first he thought it was a bird, or one of those creepy giant moths that sometimes appeared out of nowhere in his basement.
But then he saw it. A black and gold butterfly, dancing around a lamppost a few feet away from him.
“Danna?” said Adrian, scanning the street for more stray insects. The butterfly seemed to be alone, and it crossed his mindthat there was a chance it was nothing more than a common monarch butterfly.
One that just happened to be flittering about in the middle of the night.
Scratching his cheek with the capped marker, Adrian sauntered slowly past the lamppost.
The butterfly darted after him. It twirled once around his head, then alighted on top of a fire hydrant.
“Danna,” he said again, with more certainty this time.
The butterfly opened and closed its wings as if in response, though Danna had once told him that she couldn’t hear while in swarm mode—only see, and…sensethings. It was hard to explain, she said.
Adrian peered around again, but the street was deserted. Parked cars and dark shop windows. There were mosquitoes and crane flies clicking against a neon sign, but no butterflies.
Where was the rest of her swarm?
Where had she been all night?
The butterfly fluttered toward Adrian. He held out his hand and it perched on his knuckle. Its antenna twitched and it seemed to be studying him, waiting.
“Okay,” he said, pocketing his marker. “You lead the way.”
Whether or not it could hear him, the butterfly left his hand, circled his body one more time, and took off.
Adrian followed.