Chapter 8 #2
But even as Terranth held her, she couldn’t shake the ghost of Kayce’s thumb under her lip.
Her skirts swayed around her legs as they danced, and Aurelia’s traitorous eyes gravitated back to Kayce.
Perhaps it was only the finery and the candlelight that made the planes of his face more intriguing.
Besides, all would go back to normal once they were bickering in the stables tomorrow morning.
Surely it would. Right?
A throb pulsed in Aurelia’s head. A rise in the sea of pressure.
“Are you well?” Terranth frowned.
“Just a headache.” She focused on the steps instead. “You shouldn’t goad Kayce. It makes the whining I’ll have to deal with worse.”
Terranth chuckled. “He is my brother. It is my job to be the resistance he needs to grow as a man. Only with friction is a blade sharpened into a weapon. I would do a disservice to Kayce if I were I to let him go unchecked.”
Unchecked in what? She couldn’t see how dancing with his brother could help.
“I must admit. It wasn’t to rib Kayce that I asked you to dance.” Terranth’s gaze, suddenly filling with warmth, traced over her.
Oh. Oh.
Her breath caught in her throat, a flush building in her cheeks. “What other motive could you possibly have? I’m the same as I’ve always been. A dress changes nothing.”
“You’re correct.” Terranth held her stare. “It doesn’t.”
He was always one for jokes, but this sudden seriousness stole her breath. The intensity of it distracted her from the headache, from the certainty that something wasn’t right—
She pried her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. “Terranth—”
A throat cleared behind her. “May I step in?”
Stopping, Aurelia turned to find Kayce staring down at her before slanting a loaded glare at his brother. Terranth looked between them with a smile Aurelia had seen when they’d played war games growing up. Like his tactic had just succeeded. But how was Kayce stepping into victory?
“Brother, be mindful of the lady’s toes.” Terranth winked before releasing her with a deep bow. He clapped Kayce’s shoulder roughly before heading toward their brothers.
Some of the flush Terranth caused had eased from her cheeks. Kayce took her hand, the scars from their blood oath aligned. Then heat rekindled as he placed his other hand possessively on the swell of her hip, pulling her close.
“You certainly waited long enough,” she managed. “It took nearly all of my concentration not to maim your brother.” Though he had done a good job of distracting her in other ways.
Kayce stared over her shoulder, his jaw working. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Would have killed the mood of the party.”
She quirked a brow at his verbal flailing. He normally had a barb for everything. Why did he cut in if he couldn’t bother to look her in the eye and behave as himself? His arms had wound around her so easily, but they stiffened the longer they danced.
However, the pain in Aurelia’s head increased to where she hardly noticed Kayce’s odd silence.
The candlelight in the room was steadily heating everything in sight, herself included.
The spinning didn’t help. Were the candelabras revolving?
Wincing, Aurelia tried to grit her teeth through the headache that was quickly overwhelming her senses.
Kayce’s throat bobbed when he finally looked at her. She tried an encouraging smile but felt its strain. Pressure rose in her chest, her skull. Lingering glances and infuriating young men were forgotten.
Frowning, Kayce brought a hand to her temple, his tension wavering. “You’re flushed.”
Of course, he saw right into her. Gripping his shoulder, Aurelia glanced at the glass doors that led to the gardens. No longer could she ignore the pain that had become a steady staccato beat in her temples. “Would you hate it if we went outside? I-I think I need some air.”
He exhaled a sigh that loosened his shoulders. “Not in the slightest. But should I send for the carriage?”
“Don’t mother hen me. I’ll be fine.”
Liar.
She stiffened at the thought. But the council hadn’t been presented yet, and Aurelia didn’t want to incur the Lioness’s wrath by departing early. Everything was fine. Her pain didn’t matter.
On their way out the door, Kayce snatched a glass of water from a nearby serving tray and passed it to her.
Taking it, she drank quickly as they stepped outside.
Filled with the gentle symphony of crickets and distant music, the cool night air kissed her overheated skin.
A copper frame extended over the terrace.
Draping willow branches wove through the muted green railings and swung gently in the breeze.
Aurelia shivered as she crossed the flagstone to the farthest point, away from the noise and the people.
She stared at the twisted bark of the thin willow trees, forcing her breath to steady, willing the pain to recede.
“Distract me,” she urged. “Do you think Kristof knows we’re the smugglers going after Luddeck?
Or was it a lucky guess?” She held the chilled glass to her neck while sitting on a marble bench that was surrounded by moonrose bushes, their pale petals shimmering like they were carved from their namesake’s stone.
Roses. Like in a garden. A stick for a sword—
“Well, I’m uncertain.” Kayce rubbed the back of his neck before sitting beside her. “Kristof knows me well. It’s possible he suspects and hoped to force an admission. He’s used that trick before. If he knew it was us, I think he would have been blunt about it. Either way, I’m not concerned.”
She nodded, the pain pulsing. Focus, she had to focus.
Breathe. Hold. Breathe.
The crickets quieted as Kayce rubbed his gloved palm. “Aurelia…tomorrow, I want you to meet me at the alcove.” A tilt of his lips brought out his normal smirk. “I have something I think you’ll like.”
His gentleness threw her, the soft rasp of his voice reaching beyond the pain in her skull.
She watched his hands, knowing their shared scar was beneath the glove.
He’d never mindlessly traced it before. But he stretched his hands out too quickly for her to ask if it pained him, and reached for a moonrose instead.
His fingers ensnared her attention. That delicate trace of a petal captivated her, reminded her of something… no, not something.
Someone.
A hand, beginning to gnarl with age and decades of use, brushed against a white rose petal. “Quite beautiful this time of year, don’t you think, Aurelia?”
She shrugged, coloring a similar flower in her sketchbook. “Kayce likes fall best.”
A laugh. “Of course he does. You do as well. Doesn’t mean those flowers cannot bloom whenever you wish.”
“We’re not the same person, Papa.”
“But he certainly shares a great deal with you.” The elderly man cleaned his glasses with his shirt before sitting beside her. “Are those rainbow petals?”
She shook her head, ringlets flying. “Nope. Moonstone. Mom had this necklace with one in it, and I liked the colors. Thought it would be a pretty flower.”
“It would be indeed. Perhaps the Lioness’s favorite?”
“Definitely.”
An ocean of grief swelled. Her mind fractured, flooding with it. Dragging Aurelia to the dark depths of reality. In the distance, an owl hooted.
She dropped the glass. It shattered at her feet, and she clutched her head.
Kayce lurched for her, gripping her shoulders. Concern choked his voice. “Aurelia, what is it? Talk to me.”
She couldn’t answer him. Pain made her double over; the crack ricocheted down to her heart where it felt like a furnace ignited. Scorching pain and chilling grief warred inside her. It burned. It drowned.
It hurt.
“It’s—it’s Papa—” A broken whimper escaped. She crumpled, her body limp, pain undulating in waves through her skull. Strong hands gripped her arms, then held her face. She heard something, but murky waters filled her ears. It left no part, no crevice of her untouched.
Maybe it was her name. That name again.
Papa privileges, she thought, before darkness consumed everything.