Page 82 of Till Death and Daisies Bloom

Her arms were crossed. Her lips were pursed. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, were fixed on me.

I stiffened.

She was watching.

Different emotions warred in me. Had she been here this entire time, seeing the fruits of her labor? I wished for rage, but it wouldn’t come. Anger would be so much easier to deal with. Instead a gnawing emotion ripped a hole inside of me, too raw to be just sadness.

Heartache. Loss.

I couldn’t even be mad at her. Well, I was, but it was different than being furious with my brothers or when something went wrong in the Underworld.

Because you love her. That’s why.

Numbly I watched Daphne giggle and spill tea down her cleavage. I shrunk down in my seat, my cravat slightly askew, my dignity unraveling like a badly tied shoelace.

Lust finally stood, slapping his hands down on the table.

“Alright, Daphne,” he said, voice still pleasant. “Time to go.”

“Aww, can’t I stay? He was just starting to warm up to me.” She leaned toward me. “Right, sugar-thighs?”

I inhaled sharply. “I will set myself on fire if you don’t release me.”

Lust gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I mean this in the nicest possible way: get out before he does something legally righteous and emotionally repressed.”

Daphne pouted, but Lust held her gaze until she sighed, tossed a handful of petals into the air like a curtain call, and sashayed out. But not before tilting her head toward Juniper’s hiding spot.

“This is your fault. I’m telling all my friends.” She headed out.

Silence returned.

I smoothed my cravat. I couldn’t tell if the small amber speck on it was a dust mote or a drop of tea. I was terrified to check. I did not look toward the bookshelf.

Lust sat back down. “She’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“She called you sugar-thighs.”

“I am aware.”

He lifted his cup. “You okay?”

I hesitated. “She didn’t like me. She liked the idea of teasing me. Of pushing.”

“She likes what she doesn’t understand,” Lust said. “You’re not a puzzle to solve. You’re just...you.”

I stared into my tea. “And Juniper?”

Lust had gone quiet, sipping his tea like he wasn’t plotting ways to hex Daphne into a compost pile. I stirred mine without drinking it. Not because I didn’t want it—because my throat felt like it had closed up. I hated being embarrassed, and hated being ajoke. And worst of all?

I hated that she saw it.

“Here she comes,” Lust intoned under his breath, but I didn’t need his warning. I felt her coming.

Juniper stepped out from between the shelves, boots soundless on the warped floorboards. Her arms were no longer crossed. Her face was...softer. Cautious.

“Pride,” she whispered.

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