The Gilded Game

I move with calculated steps, my heels clicking sharply against the stone path. The door of Locke's house looms ahead, grand and imposing, just as the weight of the situation presses in around me.
I hold my breath for a second, gathering myself before stepping onto the threshold. The heat of the night presses against my skin, but I push through it, focusing on the coolness of the stone underfoot.
Just as my hand reaches the door, it swings open.
Music swirls in the air, mingling with the scent of wine and perfume. I hear noises from the other side of the house, music, buzz, and laughter. I walk toward the sound.
I've taken exactly three steps into Locke's house when Jude materializes from the shadows like an avenging spirit, her fingers closing around my wrist.

"Ow! What—"

She doesn't answer, just drags me down a hallway and into the nearest room, slamming the door behind us. The sudden silence is deafening.
Jude rounds on me, her dark eyes flashing in the flickering light.

"What did he do to you?"
The words come out sharp as daggers.
"Are you okay?"

I swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

She looks at my hair and then studies my face.
"You're not wearing lipstick anymore."

I touch my fingers to my lips automatically - they come away clean.

"So?" she asks.

"It's not what you think."
I tell her, even though it is exactly what she thinks.
She reaches into her pocket and produces a slim tube of lipstick - the same deep red she's wearing.
"You're lucky I saw you right away. I can tell by your face that you just finished an intensive session of making out."

I take the lipstick in my hand and look at her, frowning.
"Is it that obvious?"

She gives a smile. "Yes."

I walk over to the small mirror on the wall and look at myself: Jude is right, I am a mess.
My usually perfect lip color is completely gone, my hair slightly mussed, and there's a faint pink flush high on my cheeks that has nothing to do with the night air.
Cardan really has let me out of the carriage in this state.

"Damn him"
I mutter as I carefully apply the new color on the center of my lips, then dab it to the edges.
I try to fix everything else as well from the hair to the mascara. Then I turn to Jude.
"Better?"

She looks at me, and nods, slowly, arms crossed like she’s trying to decide whether to lecture me or cover for me.
“Better”
she says, but her brow doesn’t smooth.
“Not invisible. But better.”

I groan and lean back against the tiled wall.
“Do you think everyone is going to see it as well?”

Jude raises one shoulder in a shrug.
“Hard to say. You came in glowing like you'd swallowed starlight, so... maybe.”

I bury my face in my hands for a second, mortified.
Jude's laugh is low and knowing.

"Don't act like you hate it" she teases.
"You've been walking around all evening like you were either going to strangle him or drag him behind a hedge."

"I still might do both" I mutter into my palms.

“Mm.” Jude's expression sobers.
"Is this going to be a recurring hazard?"

I hesitate. I can still feel Cardan’s mouth on my skin, the ghost of his hands on my waist.

“I don’t know” I say honestly.

Jude’s expression softens, just a little.
"Just.. don't get emotionally involved"
she warns, her voice softer now.
"With someone like him...just make sure you're the one holding the leash, even if he thinks he is."

“Don't let him use it against you.”
she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is it the same between you and Nicasia?"
Jude freezes for half a heartbeat before her mask slides back into place.

"Yeah. Kind of."
She gives me a quick once-over.
"You look like yourself again. Let's go before someone notices."

As we step back into the corridor, the swell of music and laughter washes over us. Jude pauses, her hand on my arm.
"One more reminder"
Her voice barely audible over the noise.
"If he hurts you, in any way, I'll kill him."

I hold back a laugh.
"I don't think there's any need to resort to physical violence."

She gives a small smile
"You'd be surprised to know that sometimes it's not even enough."

We approach the big garden doors, already open, and a cluster of guests spills inside, trailing laughter and the scent of crushed grass and wine.
The guests are scattered in clusters, laughter ringing out across Locke's garden.

“She's here as well?”
Valerian lounges against what looks like a maze entrance like a bored predator, his smirk cutting through the torchlight. Taryn stands beside him, her cream gown pristine, but her gaze flicks between me and Jude with poorly concealed curiosity.
And there, perched on the stone ledge like a queen holding court is Nicasia. Her sea-green eyes glint as they land on me, sharp enough to draw blood.

Locke stands there, ever the picture of nonchalance. His grin widens when he sees me.
“Ah, Lilia!”
he says, his voice sweet as honey.
“I was beginning to think you might miss the party. Did you come alone?”

My gaze flicks past him to where Cardan stands half in shadow, a goblet dangling carelessly from his fingers. His eyes meet mine, dark and knowing, and my skin heats under the weight of that look.

"Yes."
I give Locke a tight smile, not bothering to explain myself. I feel Taryn's questioning gaze on me as I approach them, but I don't let it break my stride.

"If I had known, I would have given you a ride." Locke smiles at me.

"There was no need"
I say, forcing a sweet smile.
Cardan takes a slow sip from his goblet, his eyes never leaving me.

“Must’ve been quite the walk then.”
Nicasia adds, tone mild but her eyes sharp. Her gaze flicks to Jude, then back to me, lingering on my freshly applied lipstick.
I lift my chin and I smile at her. Not sweetly, not shyly. The kind of smile that’s a weapon.

Locke tilts his head, as though trying to read something in my expression.
“I see”
he says, and though his tone is light, there’s something calculating behind his eyes.

Valerian snorts and mutters something to Taryn, who forces a smile.
Jude's jaw twitches, the way it always does when she's trying not to bare her teeth.

Locke claps once, the sound cracking through the tension like a whip.
"I'd hate to be a poor host"
he says brightly
"There's a bonfire being lit near the maze. Drinks, music, reckless games, everything a night should be. Come, Lilia, let me show you."

Jude gives me an almost imperceptible nod before moving toward Taryn, her posture deceptively relaxed. I take Locke's offered arm, his hand hovering at my back, not touching, but close enough that I feel the presence.

As we pass Cardan, his fingers brush mine—so lightly it could be mistaken for a coincidence.
My gaze snaps to him, but he's already turning away, his face a mask of indifference as he abandons his friends and walks towards the crowded house entrance.
I don't look back, but the ghost of his touch lingers, branding my skin even as I step into the garden's golden glow.

"I hope the lights are bright enough."
Locke murmurs, gesturing to the lanterns strung through the trees.
"I had them put up especially because I remembered how you squinted in the dark."

I arch a brow at that, lips twitching in something that might pass for amusement if one didn’t look too closely.
“How thoughtful”
I say, my voice light, too light.
“You remembered that?”

“Of course”
Locke says smoothly, walking half a step ahead, so I’m caught in the glow of the lanterns strung above.
“I remember everything about you, Lilia.”

"Like?"
I challenge.
He looks back at me, his eyes search my face, but I offer him nothing—just a pleasant, impenetrable smile.

"You don't like bright colors for your gowns"
he begins, ticking points off on his fingers.
"You prefer warm over cold weather. And—"
his fingertip hovers near my lips.
"you had a different lipstick at the ribbon binding."

"That's because I had lemon cake at the concession stand"
I lie effortlessly.
"Jude loaned me hers."

Locke's grin widens.
"And now I know you like lemon cake too."

I take a deep breath.
If he noticed this he would have definitely noticed the state I arrived in.
I am thankful I have Jude as a friend.

We walk along the stone path, the scent of jasmine and smoke thick in the warm night air. Up ahead, firelight flickers where the bonfire begins to take shape, laughter and movement dancing in its golden glow. Folk twirl with wine-dampened lips and tangled hair, flower crowns slipping sideways.

“You know”
Locke says after a beat, voice lowered just enough to feel intimate
"I'm glad we finally have time to talk alone."

"So showing me around was just an excuse?"

"Yes"
he admits as he smiles, the kind that's all teeth and secrets.
“You seem to see through me faster than the others.”
he says, as if this is something to be proud of.

I hum, noncommittal, watching the shadows cast by the bonfire stretch and twist across the grass.

"You've been hard to reach"
he continues, stepping closer.
"Not easy to get you alone."

"I didn't realize I was on a leash"
I reply, tilting my head in mock surprise.
"Should I have sent you my schedule?"

His laugh is thin—the sound of ice cracking underfoot
I turn to face him fully now, the firelight painting half my face in gold, the other half in shadow.
"And what is it you're trying now, exactly?"

"Just talking."
His tone is honey-sweet, but his eyes burn with something far darker.
He then stops walking. We're on the edge of the firelight now, half-shrouded in gold and shadow.
His expression shifts, the charming host slipping away for a moment, revealing something quieter.

"I won't lie to you, Lilia"
he says, his voice dropping low. He takes my gloved hand in his, turning it palm-up between us.
“I have another reason, more subtle than this."
My pulse stutters.

"Can I kiss you?"

My eyes widen.
"Huh?"
The word escapes before I can stop it, undignified and utterly revealing.

Locke's thumb brushes over my knuckles, his gaze locked on mine.
"I asked if I could kiss you" he repeats.

I blink, caught off guard in a way I don’t like.
"That’s... unexpected."
I pull my hand from his, slowly. Not harshly. Just enough to reestablish the line between us.

Locke's smile turns wistful, almost boyish. Then, before I can react, he closes the distance between us in one swift motion, too quickly for me to notice in time.
When he is a few inches from my face, he stops.
I remain perfectly still, my breath caught somewhere between surprise and something sharper.
He then turns his face, leaving a kiss on my cheek.
When he goes away, he looks like he's about to say something, but then his gaze flicks past me—just briefly—and the corner of his mouth lifts.
I turn.
Across the bonfire, there's Cardan looking at us. A fresh goblet dangles from his fingers, forgotten, his knuckles white around the stem. Beside him, the same pixie from the evening leans in close, her hand resting on his arm. She is all smiles while her wing brushes his cheek, lingering longer than necessary. He doesn't move away. If anything, he leans in even closer to her.
I turn away.

Locke's chuckle is low, intimate.
"Interesting" he murmurs, just for me.
"Your reaction, I mean"
he amends, grinning.
"You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"Was was this?"
My voice is honeyed steel.

Locke's smile doesn't waver.
"You're right to be mad"
he concedes, tone light.
"I suppose I should be flattered you didn't slap me."

"Yet" I counter.

He holds up his hands.
"I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment."
A pause, then—
"But can I say that your skin is really soft?"
I narrow my eyes.

"And also,"
he adds, undeterred,
"you're really pretty tonight."
His grin turns roguish.
"You can slap me now, if that's going to make you feel better."

I exhale sharply, torn between irritation and the undeniable fact that he can't lie.
"I'm not the type of person who resorts to violence,"
I say coolly.
"Luckily for you."

“You might still be dangerous in your own way" he muses.

"Shall we find out together?" I challenge.

He snorts. "I'm not interested in that."

Of course he isn't. He just likes doing silly pranks making sure I would've looked at Cardan with that pixie girl. But I don't care.
I really don't.

"Then what are you interested in?" I press.

"In you." he says simply.

"Again?" I deadpan.

He laughs, clutching his chest dramatically.
"You're turning me down really bad. That kinda hurts."
But his eyes are bright with amusement, not rejection.

"Then don't throw your heart into the fire if you're afraid of getting burned"
I say, echoing Jude's childhood wisdom with deliberate lightness.

Locke tilts his head, that unreadable expression flickering across his face again.
"You're not as gentle as you seem."

"I seem gentle?" I counter, arching a brow.

"Also, yes."

"Also?"
I press, stepping closer.
"What else?"

For a moment, Locke looks almost serious—like he might actually answer truthfully. But then the mask slips back into place, his grin returning with practiced ease.

"Well"
he drawls,
"I suppose you'll have to earn the answer, since you turned me down so bad."

"Earn it how?"
I reply smoothly.
"Don't tell me you still want a kiss."

His laugh this time is different, less polished, almost startled.
"Pretty, and witty"
he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
"What a nightmare you might be."

"I'll take that as a compliment"
I say, smiling sweetly.

Locke exhales, shaking his head as someone calls his name from across the garden.
"I guess I have to leave you now."
He takes my hand and leaves a soft kiss on top of my glove.
“See you later Lilia”

I nod, turning away before he can see the satisfaction in my eyes.
The bonfire crackles behind me as I walk back toward the maze, the night air cool against my flushed skin. Maybe Jude's still there.

I spot her near the edge of the crowd, arms folded, watching Taryn speak to Valerian with an expression that borders on disapproval. When she catches sight of me, her face shifts—guarded curiosity flickering beneath her usual cool stare.
I weave through the clusters of revelers until I reach her side.

"Want to grab a drink?" she asks me

I brush nonexistent dust from my sleeve, feigning nonchalance.
"Of course I do."

Her brows lift.
"Did something happen?"

"Nothing relevant. I saw the bonfire."
I lie smoothly.
"Let’s go."
I push her lightly toward the house, eager to leave the scene behind.

The bar area is surprisingly well-stocked—for humans, at least. Jude pulls a bottle of tequila from the shelf with a triumphant grin.

"Locke asked Taryn what kind of alcohol humans drink at parties. But I don't know how he got it."
she explains, arranging two small glasses and lemon slices with practiced ease.

"Wow, he really thought of everything."
I remark, half-impressed.

Jude’s eyes gleam.
"My dear Lili, today I’m introducing you to salt-and-lemon tequila."

I glance around skeptically.
"And salt? Here?"
Salt is poison to magical creatures, after all.

"Take off your gloves."
She orders, pulling a small pouch from her pocket. I obey, sliding the silk from my hands and draping them over my shoulder.
She pours a thin line of salt onto my bare palm.

"The order is: lick the salt, drink the tequila fast, then bite the lemon." she instructs.

I eye the setup warily.
"Are you sure this is a real human thing and not one of those Vivi fabrications about human culture?"

Jude rolls her eyes.
"Trust me, I’ve seen people do this with my own eyes."

"Okay..."

"Ready?... Go!"
I watch Jude demonstrate because I promptly forgot the steps. I lick the salt, toss back the tequila in one burning gulp, and chomp into the lemon, my face contorting as fire and sourness explode in my throat.

Jude cackles.
"You should see your face!"
I’m still processing the assault on my senses when she asks
"So? Do you like it?"

My expression must be a masterpiece of confusion and regret, but I manage a grin.
"Yeah. Let’s do it again."

Jude laughs, refilling the glasses.
"I like the spirit."

We pour ourselves another round, our laughter echoing off the walls of Locke's over-decorated home, the music and chaos from the garden spilling in like a second heartbeat.
This time, I don’t hesitate. I lick the salt, take the shot, and bite into the lemon with less of a wince. Jude grins at me with a proud look, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything else.

“I think it’s growing on me.”
I say, wiping my mouth carefully so as not to make the lipstick come off.

“It’s supposed to.” Jude replies.
“They say that by the third one, you either fall in love with tequila or decide you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Let’s find out”
I say, already reaching for the bottle. I pour again.
The third shot burns less going down, settling into a pleasant warmth that curls through my veins like liquid sunlight. Jude's proud grin makes me feel absurdly accomplished for something as simple as drinking poison without grimacing.

“Okay, definitely feeling it now.”
I giggle, and then immediately catch myself.
“Oh no. That sounded dangerously close to... fun.”

Jude raises a brow.
“We can’t have that. Oriana would be so mad if she knew this.”

"So would Kiki." I admit.

We both dissolve into laughter, the warm, golden kind that starts in your chest and pushes everything else aside. And just as I lean back against the counter, letting the buzz wash over me, I catch something in the reflection of the polished glass bottles—just a shadow of movement in the doorway behind us. I turn slightly to see Cardan, his gaze tracking the pixie girl as she laughs too loudly at something across the room .

Jude notices.
"Who is she?"
she murmurs, voice low.

"I don’t know"
I say, too quickly.

She doesn’t look behind her. She just sighs.
“Do I need to start hiding sharp objects?”

“No need.”
I say laughing, but my voice comes out airier than intended. The room tilts pleasantly when I shake my head.
"Is it normal for it to hit already?"

"It depends, I think." she says.
"I could ask Taryn, but she'll be busy making out with that dickhead right now."

I make a scandalized noise that's several octaves too high before clapping a hand over my mouth.
"What? Since when?"

Jude's expression turns stormy.
"I don't know actually, but by the way he's all on her I don't think it'll take long."
she says pouring more tequila into the glasses,
"Why do you think I asked you to drink otherwise?"

"For the joy of my company?"
I suggest, batting my eyelashes dramatically.

She barks out a laugh.
"Let's stick to that response"

I poke her shoulder.
"Jude Duarte! How dare you treat your lady so shamelessly?"

"My lady?" Her lips quirk.

"Your lady-in-waiting"
I declare, gesturing grandly and nearly knocking over the salt.
"Since all your companions have abandoned you and only then you looked for me."

Jude's laughter rings through the room, bright and unguarded.
"Well... your company isn't completely terrible."

I place a hand over my heart.
“You’ll make me blush.”

“Please”
Jude says, knocking back the next shot
“you don’t blush. You seethe quietly and then plan someone’s downfall.”

I gasp. “How dare you speak the truth so boldly?”

She smirks and holds out the lemon slice like a peace offering.
“For your offended heart.”

I take it with a grin and take another shot, then I lean back against the counter and sigh dramatically.
"So, tell me, Jude. Now that we've discovered tequila, what's next?"

She considers that for a moment, head tilting.
“We could start a fight.”

My browsers shoot up. “With who?”

She shrugs. "Anyone. Nicasia's always a good target. We could get something spilled on her dress again."

“Please she hates me already. And also, I'm still banned from two gardens for that last one” I remind her.

“Worth it.” she says.

"Something wrong in love-land?" I ask, nudging her foot with mine.

"She's been ignoring me for days"
Jude mutters, her voice dripping with irritation.

"Why?"

"I have no idea"
she snaps, though the anger isn't directed at me.
"If she expects me to chase her, she's wrong."

"Good girl." I approve, raising my glass in salute. "Get respect."

Jude snorts into her drink. "I can tell you're tipsy."

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly sober and stable."
I insist, smiling my most convincing smile. To prove it, I pluck the gloves still draped over my shoulder and hand them to her with exaggerated care. Then I take a turn around and look at her, satisfied.

Jude takes them, bemused.
"And what's that supposed to prove?"

"I didn't falter"
I say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I'm perfectly lucid."

Jude's laughter rings out, bright and unguarded.
"Right. Because sober people definitely use turning around as their sobriety test."

"Precisely"
I agree, nodding sagely. Then, because the tequila has stolen my filter I add
"Also, your hair looks nice tonight. Like a... a very shiny crow."

Jude stares at me.
"That might be the worst compliment I've ever received."

"But you're smiling" I point out

Jude grins, clearly amused.
“You just offered me your gloves like they were a royal mantle.”

“Well”
I say, lifting my chin with mock dignity
“I am your lady in waiting, remember?”

“I’ll make sure they’re displayed with honor.”
she says, tucking the gloves into her belt with a flourish.

I press a hand to my chest.
“You do me great justice, Your Highness.”

She gives a regal nod, and we both laugh again, easier now, tequila loosening the usual stiffness in our shoulders. My lipstick is probably a little faded now.

"I have to pee" I then tell her out of nowhere.

"Okay"
The world tilts pleasantly as Jude steers me through the crowd, our laughter still clinging to us like the scent of salt and citrus.
The bathroom break is brief, but when I emerge, the hallway is empty. No Jude in sight.

I’m halfway back to the kitchen when a hand snakes out from the shadows, fingers wrapping around my wrist and yanking me into the dim space between the hallway and a forgotten sitting room. Cardan’s breath is warm against my cheek, his body caging me against the wall.

"Having fun?"
His voice is a blade wrapped in velvet, smooth.

I blink up at him, the tequila making my thoughts move slower than I’d like. He’s drunk too, I realize. Not sloppy, but loose-limbed and reckless, his usual precision replaced by something far more dangerous.

"Very much"
I reply, cool as I can manage.
"What about you?"

He cocks his head, studying me with those gold-flecked eyes. I glance over his shoulder, checking for witnesses.

"Afraid someone might see us together?"
he murmurs, catching the movement.

"If you already know"
I say, twisting my arm free,
"then why are you asking?"

"I wanted to hear your answer."

"Now that you’ve heard it, can I go?"

Instead of answering, he leans in—too fast. I press my hand against his mouth, stopping him mere inches away.

"You're leaning too close" I accuse.

"I am"
he admits, his lips moving against my palm. Then, he turns his face into my touch, nuzzling my hand until it rests against his cheek.
For a breath, we’re both still.
His cheek is warm under my palm. His eyes are half-lidded, not from the drink, but from something slower, something heavier, and they don’t leave mine for a second.

"Weren't you having fun with your friend?"
I ask him sarcastically, removing my hand.

He blocks my hand from my wrist, placing it back on his cheek.
"Are you worried about me being entertained enough?"
he asks, stroking my wrist with his thumb.

“I think you are way too much entertained.”
My thumb caresses his cheek until it touches his bottom lip. His lashes flutter at the touch, like he's savoring it. He leans even more on my hand.

The sudden burst of footsteps and laughter from the hall shatters the moment. I jerk back, but Cardan's arm snakes around my waist, spinning us deeper into shadow. His body shields mine as he peers around the corner, the line of his shoulders tense beneath his black jacket.

“No one”
he murmurs, eyes scanning the corridor before flicking back to mine.
Somewhere beyond our hiding place, glasses clink and someone shrieks with laughter.
The contrast makes the silence between us louder.

I raise a brow. “Why did you drag me here?”

He shrugs, infuriatingly casual.
“Perhaps I only wanted to make sure you were also entertained enough. You seemed quite bored by one of your previous companions.”

“I'm not. Not after you let me climb out of that carriage looking like I’d barely survived your company.”

His gaze sharpens. “You did look like that.”
he moves closer, “And I rather liked it.”

I glower. “You didn’t think to say anything?”

He leans in again, just close enough to lower his voice.
"Why would I?"

“You wanted your friends to know, didn't you?”
I place a hand on his chest, to push him away slightly.

"You're wrong if you think I like everyone to know everything I do."
His fingers catch a loose curl of my hair, tucking it behind my shoulder with deliberate slowness. His touch lingers, tracing the line of my collarbone.
"What if I told you I was going to tell you but then you went down without letting me tell you?"

“I wouldn't believe you.” I breathe, because the lie is obvious.

“Only this?”

“I could slap you.”
I snap. Even if I know I would never do that, but I'm pissed.

“I might like that.”
He brushes a stray lock of hair from my cheek, far too gently.
"You’re angry. And you look quite a fury. It's dreadfully distracting, you know.”

This time when he leans in, it's different, slower, almost reverent, as if he's giving me every chance to pull away. Testing me. His breath is warm against my lips.
“I could kiss you”
he whispers, lips brushing the corner of my mouth, maddeningly close but never quite enough.

“And you’d still be angry. But perhaps... just slightly less.”

I shift forward, just a breath, just enough that our mouths almost brush. I hear the sharp intake of his breath. His grip on the edge of my waist tightens imperceptibly.
Then I pull back.

“If you want a kiss, Cardan, you’ll have to do better than lazy flattery and half-drunken charm.”

He stills, his lips parted as if the ghost of mine lingers there. Then he laughs. Low. Surprised. A little dangerous.
“Do you want me to beg, Lilia?”
he asks, voice laced with something darker now.
“Because I could."

My breath catches somewhere in my throat. "Do it then."

His voice drops to a murmur meant only for me, velvet and shadow, curling around every word like it’s a secret.
"I said I could, not that I would."

"Too bad then."
My tone sharp even as my hand slides down to rest over his chest.

“Are you going to make me?”
he asks, his voice barely a breath.

"It's you who suggested it."
I watch him carefully, my fingers still teasing the edges of his shirt as he leans in, breath hot against my ear.

“Don't tease me.”
he murmurs, his lips brushing the curve of my earlobe.
And then, as if daring himself, his teeth graze the delicate flesh. The sensation is electric, a jolt of desire that shoots straight to my core.

I gasp—unintended, but it escapes nonetheless.
My fingers tighten in his hair instinctively, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Cardan smirks against my skin, victorious. He nips again, harder this time, tugging at the sensitive flesh before soothing it with his tongue. His free hand slides down to the curve of my ass, squeezing slightly. His grip on me tightens, possessive now, like he doesn’t care who walks past the corner and sees.

My body betrays every sharp word I should throw at him. The way I lean into his touch, the way my mouth parts without thinking, the way I arch just slightly into his hand, it all gives me away.
But when his face is coming closer to mine, I tilt my head back just slightly, a soft sigh slipping past my lips as I avoid his mouth.
It takes everything in me.
The part of me that aches for him, that traitorous burning part, nearly wins.

He halts. Just for a beat. Then laughs, low and disbelieving.
“Mh?”

“You don’t get to kiss me tonight" I tell him.

"I already kissed yo-"

"Not any more" I interrupt
Especially not when he left me disheveled and flushed, not when there are too many eyes watching, not when he can't seem to control himself once he starts.

His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile doesn’t fade.
"Because I didn't beg?"

My eyes meet his, steady despite the thunder in my chest.
"Because you didn't earn it."

He blinks, just once, like I’ve thrown cold water over him.
For someone used to being worshipped, even hated with passion, silence hits different.

"Next time"
I add sweetly, trailing my fingers along his jaw in a mocking caress
"try harder."

His jaw tightens beneath my fingertips, the muscle feathering with restrained tension. For once, Cardan doesn’t have a clever retort at the ready. He just stares at me, stunned into silence by the denial—by the fact that I meant it. The silence stretches between us, hot and charged, and for a flicker of a second, I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far.

"Good night"
I say with a mock-thoughtful expression, trailing my hand down the line of his belt before stepping away entirely.
He watches me, eyes dark and hungry, like he’s committing every movement to memory.

I glance over my shoulder, smile sharp as broken glass. And then I leave him standing there, in that shadowed hallway—wanting, waiting—while I disappear back into the golden noise of the party like I was never his to touch.