Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 12

12

T he sun had begun to fade, my hair was done, my dress was perfect and a younger version of me would have waited until he called. I would have cascaded down the steps, commanding every second before walking past with heavy lids and a sweet smile, knowing how much he wouldn’t care about the dress or the hair. He’d be furious I’d taken my time, and I’d relish in it. But when he barked my name for the second time, I completely ignored it, staring instead at the little book in my hand.

I opened the clasp again and slid a finger down the tiny pencil bound inside, reading the new line of letters.

We’re going to be late.

“Can you see me?” I whispered, looking around the room for a sign of him.

Nothing.

I pushed the pencil free and held it just above the old page. Before I could think of something to write, a new line appeared.

I’m sure you look passable. We need to leave.

I scribbled furiously.

How do you know I’m looking at this?

His response was quick.

It’s become quite clear that you revel in infuriating me. I assume you’re dressed?

Assume away.

The door swung open in a fury, and the brooding man stalked across the room, snatched the book from me and clasped it shut. “You can play with this later. We need to leave.”

“What if I was naked?”

“I paid a lot of money for that dress. I’m sure you put it on the second it was delivered. Women tend to like expensive things too much to resist them.”

“You assume too much,” I retorted, standing tall in spite of my pounding heart.

His gaze traced down my body, lingering for a moment before landing back on my face. “Yes, I do.”

“Here.” Thorne pulled a long box from his pocket and held it out for me. “You have to wear a mask. Do you need me to tie it on for you?”

“I’m fairly sure I can handle it.” I moved to stand before the mirror and slid the black diamond mask over my face. It did nothing to conceal, only framed my eyes. With the knot tied, I glanced up to see him remove his glasses and place his own mask on. It matched mine perfectly, made of the same black diamonds, though his covered half his face.

With a curt nod, he turned to leave, polished boots echoing down the hall. I snagged the book and fell in line behind him. With fewer than three conversations in total, somehow he already knew exactly how to infuriate me.

As we descended the marble staircase, his heavy stare found its way back to me once more, eyes stormy and intense. He paused halfway down, waiting for me without a word. It was an unspoken command that I knew better than to ignore. This would be a game of wits and power between us, and while he carefully laid all of his pieces on the board with each show of irritation, I hadn’t even begun.

I joined him on the landing, our bodies standing close together as he offered his arm. I hesitated before accepting. That brief pause was enough to make him sigh. His gloved hand slipped over mine and even through the thick fabric of his five-piece suit and my dress, a jolt of electricity passed between us. I wondered if he’d felt it too, but I was far too strong-willed to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging the way he’d rattled me.

We stopped at the door without a word. He slid a heavy, fur-lined cloak over my shoulders. It matched my gown in length and if he’d paid a lot for the dress, I knew he paid even more for the coat.

“The fur is from a bear.”

“Thank you for that random piece of information.” Of course, I knew what he was doing. If my family were truly tanners, I would have known that. But I’d let him continue to assume my ignorance for a while. I swung the door open before he could answer and nearly stumbled into the carriage waiting just outside the door. He caught my arm and helped me into it without a word.

“No stops tonight, Tuck,” he said to the driver, and crawled in behind me.

Only then did it occur to me his house had been silent. There was no staff at all. He’d been the one cooking. He’d been the one to fold the clothes and lay them on the chair when I slept. He’d been the one to smother me in blankets while I slept for days. Odd.

As I settled into the plush velvet interior, Thorne took the seat opposite me. His broad frame filled more space than anyone I’d ever seen. The light from outside filtered in through the tiny windows, casting a warm glow on the angles of his face, highlighting them in gold and shadow. It occurred to me again how undeniably handsome he was, albeit his winning personality won him no favors.

His clothing was immaculate, a charcoal gray suit tailored with precision to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was slicked back neatly, save for a few rebellious locks that brushed against his forehead, pairing nicely with his stern demeanor.

I watched as he pulled out a small silver watch from his pocket, eyes flicking to it before they moved on to the passing scenery outside. For what seemed like an endless moment, there was silence, broken only by the steady creaking of the carriage wheels against cobblestone and the occasional thud of hooves.

“You’re staring,” he said finally.

I slid open the little curtain beside me. “You take up the entire space. It’s impossible not to. Was the bear from this cloak a relative?”

He reached over and shut the curtain after I’d finished gawking out the window, and I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile.

“You’ll need to be prepared for the night. Talk as little as possible and try to blend in. Don’t spiral with your lies. You’re not that good at it. A simple hello and a demure demeanor will be enough. We met in Misby. You were a lonely spinster, living off your dwindling inheritance. I was there for work. We met when your carriage was blocking a snow packed road. Your horse was lame, and I offered you a ride home. There will be no need for additional information, no matter how much the women press, state only those facts.”

“How romantic,” I answered with an eye roll, sliding the curtain back open. “I’d have rather been the town whore, but I can see why you went with the route you did. Quick question though, how many times a day do we… you know?”

He went about as rigid as he could. “Pardon?”

“You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much?—”

“Stop it.”

My grin was beaming. “You’re shy? That’s adorable. But let’s circle back to the nature of the event. You did say clothing was optional at a certain point, did you not? You also mentioned it was an event for the Goddess of Lust? Not to mention, poor little old me has been trapped away, alone in a frozen tundra, for years and years. A woman has needs, just like a man, you know? And since we’re dealing with a goddess, I’m assuming there will be power involved somewhere. Lusty power? So, for science, of course, how… satisfied am I? Dripping with need? Raw from friction? Scale of one to ten.”

The flex of his jaw was the most gratifying thing I’d ever seen in my life. “Let’s avoid diving into our personal business.”

“Oh, come on. You know how women can be. I mean, you certainly claim to know everything. Don’t let me down, husband. How often?”

His face was a mixture of disbelief and bemusement, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head. “You’re a mischief maker.”

I leaned forward, inching closer towards him. “How often?”

“Fine.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “For the sake of your insatiable curiosity—and science, let’s say… often.”

My grin widened. “Often? That’s so vague. A more quantifiable response would be appreciated.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated by my line of questioning. But beneath it all was an underlying amusement that told me he wasn’t entirely put off by it.

“Every day,” he said finally, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

“Once or twice a day? All day? Be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes and turned away from me to hide his burgeoning smile. The handsome devil probably didn’t want to admit it, but at the very least, I was entertaining him.

“Twice,” he answered, stressing the word as if daring me to push him further, his gaze flicking back at me defiantly.

I drew the small golden book from where I’d tucked it in my cloak, unclasped the lock, and penciled a tiny two at the top of the first page.

He watched me carefully.

“Just keeping track of all the lies.” I snapped the book shut and tucked it away. “Now, was that so hard?”

He scoffed and uncrossed his arms, gazing out into the distance as though seeking refuge from my relentless questioning.

I leaned closer to him, my voice dropping to a low whisper. “And just so we’re clear, I’d rate it an eleven.”

He nearly choked on his own breath as he turned to face me, surprise and mirth reflecting in hazel eyes. “Eleven? Out of ten?”

“You’re quite the overachiever.”

“That,” he said, pushing the door open as the carriage came to a stop. “Is a fact I can support. Shall we?”

The biting cold of the evening air wrapped around the back of my neck. I moved to lift my hood, but he stopped me.

“You’re not cold, are you? You, of all people? A woman of Misby?”

Dammit.

“I might hate you right now.” I let the hood fall, noting how the rest of the women shuffling by were bundled and hustling. “And I’m pretty sure you planned for that.”

“Oh, I hoped for it,” he said, spinning on his heel and pulling me toward the giant temple in front of us.

I squinted through the cascading snowflakes, trying to make out our destination. The temple was a towering colossus of stone and metal, grand in a way that made me uncomfortable. There were people freezing on the streets here.

The entrance was a gaping maw swallowed by shadows. Two gargoyles guarded its steps, their eyes glowing with some otherworldly energy. Lanterns flickered around them, casting dancing shadows that made them seem alive; their snarling expressions stone-cold warnings to those who dared enter.

“No need to look so scared,” he said with a teasing edge in his voice. His fingers squeezed mine reassuringly. “Just remember what I told you.”

“Only two times a day,” I muttered back. We started up the snow-dusted steps, the crunching sound of our boots against the icy stone echoing eerily around us.

“No. Head down. Avoid the prince. And most importantly…” He glanced at me sideways from behind his mask.

“Go unnoticed,” I finished for him.

I’d never been in a temple that wasn’t in ruins, and even then, it’d only happened twice. Temples were bad luck and everyone at home knew it. But here? It felt like standing in line to enter a castle. The music grew louder as we inched closer to the door, but more curiously were the eyes of the city, gathered around, huddled together for warmth, just to watch people enter. The Salt. Those with long faces, some steeped in ire, others in awe. I couldn’t help but see myself in them. Knowing, had I been born to this world, I’d likely be standing there scheming for my rise in society. I was never one to settle. Only then did it occur to me that this was the event the little boy on the street was trying to sell tickets to.

Thorne led us forward, and while I fully expected to see a horde of Cimmerians outside, harassing the onlookers, instead two tall guards dressed in soft blue with gold embellishments squaring their shoulders stood rigid, watching the crowd. I cast my eyes down as Thorne pulled an invitation from a pocket on the interior of his suit and showed it to the guards.

With a silent shared look, they gripped the handles of the towering doors and pulled them open. “Welcome to Lithe.”