Silence stretched out, and she didn't know whether that was worse.
He wouldn't want her to touch him.
He'd made that quite clear on their wedding night. Especially if he was asleep and he didn't know who she was....
"All right," she said hoarsely, rolling away from him. She could do this. "I'll see you in the morning then."
Sebastian shifted, and she stared at the far wall, trying desperately not to wonder what he was doing.
"May I hold you?"
For a second she almost didn't realize what he'd said. Cleo froze. "O-of course."
The mattress shifted, and then a warm, callused hand reached out and found her arm. She flinched. Not in shock or horror, but in anticipation.
Sebastian nestled in behind her, a fold in the blankets keeping their bodies apart, his breath stirring her hair.
Darkness, ever her ally, kept him from seeing the pink stain on her cheeks. They lay stiffly together, her head snug against the pillow, and his body politely aligned against hers. Slowly, his palm closed over her side, resting there. All she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, and the soft rush of his breath past his lips.
What had happened to provoke such a response from him? He'd been cool and unreadable most of the day, his shields irrevocably in place, and she'd been distracted enough not to notice anything amiss. The book consumed her attention.
But now she found herself wondering....
Slowly she relaxed and closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. She'd spent so many nights dreaming of what it would feel like to lie in his arms.
"Is your head still aching?" he murmured.
"No." Some part of her hated to break the silence. It seemed like a single word could destroy this fragile truce, and she wasn't prepared to let him go.
Love me. Please love me.
But she didn't dare say the words aloud, and she kept her own shields in place so he wouldn't hear her thoughts.
"I have been thinking," he murmured, his breath caressing the back of her neck, "about what you asked me the other day."
"Asked you?"
"About someone from my past."
She turned her head to glance at him.
"I vaguely recall seeing Julia Camden reading tea leaves once," he said, his lips pressing thinly together. "And it seems more than a coincidence to see her at the Ascension ball barely an hour before Morgana attacked. They were allies once, and though she claimed she hadn't seen my mother since...."
Julia Camden reading tea leaves. Cleo's heart beat swiftly. Was Julia Camden her black queen? "Any trained sorcerer can read tea leaves," she said, more to herself than anyone. "It doesn't make her a seer."
Was it enough proof? She almost wanted to believe it.
"It's just a thought. Is there any reason you wanted to know?"
Cleo slammed the gates shut on those particular thoughts, and knew he'd felt it. "No reason. Just trying to deduce who might be working for the demon."
His hand settled on her arm, and he stroked his fingers down it.
"Can you promise me something?" he murmured.
Anything. "Of course."
"If we meet my mother again, you're not to get involved," he said, and hesitated as if he wanted to add more.