She was being stupid—so incredibly stupid.
He’d told her to go. To leave. To never come back.
Lyana didn’t know why she had come, not really. She only knew that as soon as she got back to her room, the urge to fly had overwhelmed her, and her wings had brought her here. What made her stay were the drawers open and emptied in the corner, the twin blades polished and in their scabbards, and the sack of dried foods thrown at the foot of his bed. What made her stay was the understanding that if she left, she might never see him again.
The sound of boots made her heart stop.
Lyana turned, breath catching in her throat. He stood behind her in the shadows of the balcony, visible through the narrow slit in the curtains, his pale face glowing as it caught a sliver of light.
“I told you—”
“I know,” Lyana interjected.
Neither of them moved, as though the line where the rug ended and the stone floor of the balcony began represented something else, something much more difficult to cross.
“You’re leaving,” she said, not a question.
He answered anyway, voice strained. “Yes.”
Ask me to go.
Ask me to go.
Ask me to go.
The thoughts came swift, a strong desire tightening her gut. But she knew he wouldn’t ask—and he didn’t. She was grateful, because if he had, she would have had to find the courage to say no. She’d spent her lifetime staring at the sky, at the clouds above and the mist below, dreaming of disappearing into the adventure on the other end of the horizon. She’d had many chances to run from her responsibilities, with or without his help, but she’d never done it. Deep down, she knew, her dreams were just that—dreams. Ones that could never come true, not for a princess who would one day become a queen, a woman who had the weight of a thousand other lives on her shoulders.
Lyana took a step forward, then another, until her silk slippers silently crossed the threshold. She drew the curtain to the side and walked into the shadows of the balcony, the darkness of the night, the place where maybe they could live in a brief dream together. Her sleeves were long, but her shoulders were bare, and the cool kiss of evening brought a shiver to her skin. Lyana took a deep breath and looked up.
Rafe met her gaze.
The backs of his wings were already squeezed against the rail. He had nowhere else to go but the sky if he wanted to run.
He didn’t.
He stayed, frozen in place, not breathing as she crossed the distance between them and took his hands in hers, letting her magic bubble to the surface so she could feel the spark of their power meeting one more time.
“Let’s play a game, Rafe,” she whispered.
He released a breath, chest caving in as he glanced to the side. “A game.”
“Tomorrow, I take vows,” she continued softly as their fingers danced, shifting together, magic sizzling between them, the gold of the sun and the silver of the moon, joined for this brief impossible moment. “Vows I will never, ever break. But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, for a few more hours, I get to be free. So, let’s play a game, Rafe. Let’s pretend we’re not in a castle, but a deep, dark cave. Let’s pretend I’m a dove with no name and no title, and you’re a raven with no past. Let’s pretend we have one last night to do whatever we want before the sun rises and the world comes crashing in.”
They lifted their hands, palms pressed together. Lyana stared through the glittering sparks, finding that her words had tempted him. He watched her through the starlight their magic created.
“What would you do, Rafe?”
Lyana stepped closer, the bottom of her skirt catching on the edge of his boots as their thighs pressed together. A bright flare passed over his eyes, like lightning in a storm.
“What would you do, Rafe?” she asked again, licking her lips, drawing his gaze to them for a quick, fiery moment. “I want to know, now, because this is your last chance to show me.”
At first nothing happened.
He was still, so very still. And so was she, as though her heart had spilled from her chest and dropped to the floor, and any movement she made might crush it beyond repair.
Then a shudder passed through him—a surrender.
His hands slipped from her palms, sliding over the sleeves of her gown, following the path of her arms, until his fingers grazed her naked shoulders, making her inhale sharply at the heat of his touch. The searing path kept burning, slow, steady, until he came to a stop with one hand on either side of her neck, cradling her head. His thumb brushed the edge of her cheek, a gentle, coveting touch, as though he’d been waiting to do that for a while.
They moved as one.
Before Lyana had time to process anything, his fingers gripped her braids, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and they crashed together like a storm against a shore, inevitable, electric, rough and frantic. His lips were on her lips, then her throat, then traveling across her shoulder as her head dropped back with a sigh. Her hands fell along his arms to his abdomen, feeling every muscle tense beneath his jacket, before sliding up his back. Rafe buried his face in her neck, stifling a groan as she ran her fingers over his feathers. Lyana found his lips again, moving fast then slow, sinking into the kiss because they had one night, one short, stolen night, but she intended to take her time, to make the hours stretch, to let every moment count.
Each one would be their last.
They staggered back into the room, tripping over the curtain, wings pumping to keep them balanced as their lips remained glued to each other. They stumbled over the obstacles on the floor, but not badly enough to break apart.
As they fell onto the bed, consumed by a fever spun of skin and magic, neither of them registered the quiet yet resounding click of the door sliding closed.