Page 53 of Only in Moonlight
She was staring at the palace in the distance.
Tonight it was transformed, its alabaster towers wrapped in ribbons of enchanted light that shifted through all the phases of Earthglow, from deepest azure to palest cerulean. The royal lanterns had just been released, enormous constructions in the shape of legendary creatures that seemed alive as they soared higher than all others, their reflections rippling across the palace’s crystal dome.
But I doubted Emmeline was appreciating the spectacle.
Cael clasped a hand on my shoulder, saying something to Symphorosa about hot wine as they went inside, leaving Emmeline and me alone on the bridge.
“You’re nervous about tomorrow,” I said after a moment.
She ducked her head. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t usually get nervous.”
She turned around with a sigh and leaned against the railing. The pose entranced me. She looked so casually graceful, like a queen of legend resting before resuming her celestial duties.
“I’ve never spent this long preparing before. It’s more time for my worries to grow.” She tucked a windswept strand of hair behind her ear. “I usually just wing it. Maybe scope out the place the day before.”
“You? Reckless and unprepared? I don’t believe it.”
She stuck out her tongue at me. Oh, that tongue... I wanted to feel it, wanted to kiss her until she clung to the railing to keep from collapsing. The wanting, a visceral ache, tightened my chest, a pressure building behind my ribs. My heart hammered against my sternum, a drumbeat of frantic longing.
“Only a fool wouldn’t be nervous,” I said.
“So you are, too?”
The palace drew my eyes again. “Of course. It’s a significant risk, but we’re not going in unprepared.”
“Valen...” She picked at a carving on the ornamental railing. “Plans go wrong. Even the best ones.”
“I know.” I wrapped my arms around her. “But I won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”
She leaned in to me. Her hair, with that subtle herbal scent, tickled my cheek. A quiet strength emanated from her despite the tremor in her hand that grazed my arm.
Tomorrow might bring disaster. Even if the heist went exactly according to plan, Emmeline would leave in a month. She couldn’t love me. No one could.
Yet she was here in my arms.
I needed the kiss as much as she did. Our lips met as we sought solace, and she clutched me tightly. My breaths grew shallow and rapid as warmth spread through me, starting in my chest and blooming outwards. She was truly magical. Her presence made me feel better in a way nothing else ever had.
The muscles in my arms tightened involuntarily, a primal urge to hold her close, to ground myself in the solidity of her presence. Even my fingertips tingled with a strange, heightened sensitivity.
She pulled away with a suddenness that left me reeling.
“Shit,” she breathed. “Is your brother still staring at us?”
I looked towards the window. Cael, brilliant friend that he was, had drawn Drudon into conversation on the far side of the room.
“No,” I said. “But let’s go somewhere more private anyway.”
I took her hand, and we walked back across the bridge. But instead of going inside, I led her up a staircase to a balcony. The garden was exactly as I remembered it—a forgotten paradise that had fallen into elegant disrepair, whatever noble who’d once owned it having died without an heir. Flowers cascaded over crumbling alabaster railings, their luminous petals unfurling in the Earth’s blue glow. Crystal chimes hung silent in the still air, their enchantments long faded.
“No one comes here anymore,” I assured her, watching as she took in the overgrown splendor. Vines of star-jasmine had claimed an ornate bench in the corner, partially shrouding it in a canopy of white blossoms. The heady scent wrapped around us as I guided her toward it.
“Won’t it be suspicious if we disappear from the party?” she asked.
“Not in the slightest,” I murmured, drawing her onto my lap as I settled onto the bench. The layers of her starry gown billowed around us like captured night sky.
Her lips tasted of sweet wine, intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with spirits. I traced the elegant curve of her spine through the fabric, feeling her arch against me. Her fingers twisted into my hair, the slight pain sending shivers down my neck. This differed from our previous encounters—more urgent, more vulnerable.
When we finally broke apart, her emerald eyes had darkened to the color of a forest at night.
