The Blame Isn’t Magical
The Blame Isn’t Magical
CAELAN
Icould have kissed her.
Her fingers were in my hair like she'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to. She had looked up at me, mouth parted, every careful wall she maintained momentarily gone. Just like the night of the masquerade. When she didn't know who I was and I hadn't realized she meant to kill me.
I had wondered if she'd punch me if I kissed her or if she'd kiss me back. The festival charge exploded before I had the chance to find out.
Maelor was the one who lit the charge with his impeccable timing.
I thanked him for it.
I also intended to never forgive him.
After the festival, Sera was unapologetically drunk.
She was loud and uninterested in moderation.
When we returned to the estate at the seventh bell, she smiled at me and suggested that we spar.
Then she asked me to kiss her five seconds later with the same smile, as if they were equivalent requests.
If I were going to kiss Seraphae, she would be sober. She would remember every second. She would know exactly what she was choosing and who she was choosing it with. No wine to blame. No excuse to retreat to afterward.
I would not kiss her as if it were a one-time thing. It would be in a way that ensured every time she looked at me afterward, it would be the first thing she thought of.
Two centuries had taught me patience.
I could wait.
So I did the noble thing. I carried her to her room and deposited her in the bed with more restraint than the situation deserved.
She looked up at me from the pillows with that dangerous smile, daring me the way she dared everything—as if she either did not think about the consequences or was not afraid of them in the slightest.
But gods, the thoughts that came were anything but noble.
I imagined pinning her hands above her head, spreading her thighs with my knees, and sliding into her slowly.
Inch by inch, as I watched what face she would make.
Swallowing every gasp that came out of that mouth when it wasn’t screaming my name.
I turned and closed the door.
Riven stood in the corridor, arms crossed, looking at me like he was deciding whether to step in or let me learn the lesson myself.
He didn't comment. His face did enough damage.
Then I went to my own room and sat in the chair by the window and looked out at the skyline.
I thought about her smile instead.
It was considerably better company.
The following morning found us outside the estate while Maelor readied the carriage that would take us to Verdant.
Riven left to make inquiries about veil ash and would meet us at the Mourning Wild in three days' time.
Sera stood in the early light in pure annoyance.
It was genuinely delightful. Her chestnut hair was brushed into silken waves that caught the morning light.
She looked well rested and too stunning for the early hour.
But her eyes had the quality of someone who had made peace with the consequences of alcohol.
A musician at the edge of the road was playing with great enthusiasm.
She pressed two fingers to her temple and groaned.
I wondered if she remembered last night.
She noticed me looking.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I let the grin happen because I had absolutely no restraint when it came to her. “I was thinking about how you wanted me to kiss you last night.”
She threw me a look designed to intimidate. It did the opposite.
“I did not want to kiss you.”
“You did,” I said. “You were very clear about it. Admirably direct, actually.”
“That was your desire bleeding through the bond.”
“Are you sure about that?” I stepped closer. Just enough to make the point.
She didn't move and held her ground, but her face flushed. She turned to mask it half a second too late.
I had the feeling I was approximately one more comment away from getting punched in the face.
“...and if you continue speaking,” a familiar voice from ahead said pleasantly, “I will turn you into something with fewer opinions.”
I did not need to look.
Maerith stood with her hands clasped loosely behind her back, her attention on a minor courtier who was pale and sweating and attempting bravery he did not possess.
“I was merely suggesting—“
“Stop,” she said it the way someone spoke to a dog that was about to do something regrettable.
Courage suddenly found the courtier. He squared his shoulders and stepped toward her, towering over her by a considerable margin.
Maerith did not flinch. Did not give him a single thing to work with.
Riven appeared without announcement. He simply stepped between them, took the man by the shoulder, and removed him from the immediate vicinity as if tidying a room.
The courtier swallowed whatever he had intended to say and allowed himself to be relocated.
Maerith watched him go and flashed a smile at Riven. She noticed Sera and me.
“Well,” she said. “On the way to gather the ingredients, I hope.”
I nodded at her. “Good morning, Maerith.”
She dipped her chin. “How is the bond treating you?”
Sera answered before I could.
“Terrible,” she said easily. “Do you have anything for emotion bleed?”
Maerith's brows rose at the same time mine did. She laughed loud enough that both Sera and I took a half step back.
“Oh, darling,” she said, composing herself. “Physical sensation travels. Emotions do not bleed.”
I looked at the ground. Concentrated on it with great focus.
Sera went completely still beside me.
“If you are feeling something,” Maerith continued cheerfully, “it is yours.”
I did not move. I did not comment. Internally, however, I was having quite a good morning.
Sera recovered with commendable speed. “A shame,” she said. “I was hoping to blame him.”
Unembarrassed and unwilling to give me a single moment of satisfaction. Seraphae, as expected.
Maerith's gaze moved to me.
“You may still blame him,” she offered. “It simply won't be magical.”
I looked at Sera and did a terrible job of controlling my face.
“I will punch you,” she said flatly to me.
“And I'd still enjoy it.”
She wanted me. All of it was hers, nothing borrowed, nothing bled through a bond she could point at and absolve herself with.
Maerith's gaze moved between us for a beat longer than necessary. Something moved through her expression that was not quite amusement.
“Oh,” she murmured. “This will be entertaining.” She stepped back and tossed her black hair over her shoulder. “Try not to ruin Twilight,” she called, already half gone. “I enjoy the wine.”
We watched her disappear into the crowd.
Maelor appeared from around the corner with the energy of a man who had completed a task and was ready for the next one. “Alright. Let's move.” He looked between us. “Did I miss something?”
We ignored him and moved toward the carriage.
I didn't stop thinking about what Maerith had said for the better part of the first hour on the road.
And the smile on my face stayed the whole time.