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“Wait—”
“And maybe break his heart.”
“What—”
“I bet it would only take a single song.”
“Andromeda!”
“Oh, that’s what I’m here for, to check his pockets for the grimoire just in case, to distract and divert the way I do best as you go sneaking.” Andromeda’s eyes gleamed as if the challenge was all part of the fun for her.
“I know, but please… you’ll be careful, won’t you?” Fia had agreed to this part of the plan, but now that the time had come to put it into action, she sounded just as cautious as Grace, worried about letting Andromeda get so close to the mysteriously unknowable Sebastian Smith.
“I’m only going to be dancing. You’re the one who needs to be careful. Don’t get caught.”
Andromeda squeezed Fia’s arm, then slipped away on fairy-light feet, the long strands of her golden hair all Fia could see of her as she wove her way through the sea of dancers.
They swept around her as she stood there alone, their laughing mouths and half-closed eyes blurring as they spun. No matter how finely these revelers were dressed or how carefree they appeared, they all suddenly seemed threatening. If only she’d caught a glimpse of the thieves’ faces behind their cloaks that night at Thistledown, she wouldn’t be this distrustful of everyone.
“Have you saved a dance for me?”
Fia twitched, but it was only Penbrook, offering his hand. She hesitated, looking down. Somewhere on his way from the terrace to Fia, a willow had stripped Penbrook of his shoes. His socks too. Their toes nearly touched in the soft blades of grass.
“We don’t have time for a dance.”
“Don’t we?”
And then she couldn’t say no, because she didn’t want to say no. She accepted his hand, and he curled the other one around her waist as slowly as he did everything else, and all the places he touched went warm and soft. Her palm settled on his chest, just grazing the collar of his forest-night coat embroidered with those silver starbursts. Except now they gleamed gold.
She brushed her fingertips over the thread. “Did you magick these stars to match my dress?”
“I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It is.”
She bit her lip, looking up at his face and the branches above and the sky beyond, then whispered, “Why’s that?”
They hadn’t moved since she’d stepped into his arms, and it felt like time stood still as the dancing continued sinuously around them. She was in his bubble again, absent of magic this time—it was just them. Or was that a sort of magic too?
Barely a grin, as if the corner of his mouth was all he could manage to lift. “Well, I couldn’t very well have us clashing.”
On the next breath, Penbrook whisked her away.
CHAPTER 19
Penbrook and Fia spun under the willows, and in the twinkling light of the lanterns, the world turned to bronze and gold, all fallen leaves and cinnamon wind. Despite the familiar tune the string quartet played so deftly, she couldn’t find her footing, her head too dizzy. She stumbled over his bare toes.
“Underfoot,” he murmured.
“Over foot,” she laughed, and this time he missed a step, because he was laughing too.
He turned her again, sending her skirt flaring, the blood in her head rushing. Then he reeled her back, closer than they’d been before, the lines of their bodies flush.
She didn’t feel like herself at all. Her quick breaths, her warm palms, the soppy way she must have been looking up at Penbrook—wanting things she wasn’t supposed to want—all because he’d matched those starbursts to her gown the way he’d matched the polka-dot umbrella to their clothes.
But no, of course it was more than that. Quite simply, it was him. Sleepy and stubborn and so very soft. Not only the fabric of his suit, but the very fibers that formed his heart.
