“Inside.” Sam’s voice hardened as more bits of stone pattered against the walls of the house. “Inside now.”
“How is this possible?” As we turned for the door, a flash of light caught my eye.
In the center of the city, Janan’s temple shone incandescent.
2 INTRUSION
THE FRONT DOOR slammed behind me, muting the quiet cacophony of the world falling apart. I hugged myself as Sam moved into the shadows, away from the light of the kitchen. “Did you see the temple?” he asked. “I’ve never seen it so bright.”
“I saw.”
“Do you think it’s Janan’s doing?” He leaned on the wall, head dropped as he clutched his hand to his chest. “The earthquake? The eruptions?”
“It seems likely.” I eased into the shadows with him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. His arms circled my waist. My chest and stomach pressed against his, only our nightclothes separating us. “I’m afraid,” I whispered. It was easier to be honest when he was holding me, and when we stood in the dark.
He rested his cheek on top of my head. “Me too.”
“If the caldera is going to do this a lot from now on, maybe the Council exiling me isn’t such a bad thing. It’s probably smart to get away from Range. I’m glad you’re coming with me.”
“I’ll always go anywhere with you.”
We stood together for a while, listening to each other’s heartbeats and the patter of debris on the house. I touched only Sam, avoiding the white exterior wall even more now that Janan’s pulse was stronger.
“Let’s go upstairs and get this fixed.” I straightened and cradled his hurt hand in both of mine. The strip of my nightgown was soaked with blood.
He nodded and allowed me to guide him upstairs. We took the steps slowly, testing the wood before trusting our weight to it. The exterior of the house would be fine after the earthquake—Janan would never allow the white stone to be damaged while he was awake—but the interiors of the houses were all of human construction.
But the stairs were well enough. None of the support beams had snapped.
His bedroom was cool and dark. Shapes hunched within the shadows: a warm bed, a wardrobe, and a large harp. We made our way into the washroom, and I flicked on the light. Both of us squinted in the white glare. “Sit,” I ordered.
He leaned and scooted onto the counter while I closed the door and turned the shower knobs, water as hot and strong as it would go. A sly smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “Ana, I’m not sure this is the best time, but if you’d like to—”
“Shut up.” A relieved grin slipped out. If he could joke, he would be fine. “The steam will help loosen the glass, if there’s any left.”
“That’s less fun.” He pretended to pout as he unwrapped his hand and rinsed the blood away in the sink. I found bandages and ointment, and together we picked out the last slivers of glass while steam billowed from the shower. The mirror fogged, and the pounding water on the tub drowned out the sound of the world beyond the room.
“This doesn’t look too bad,” I said, spreading ointment over his fingers. Most of the cuts were superficial.
“Told you.” He held still while I wrapped his hand in clean bandages. “And it’s my left hand, which is a relief because I write with my right.” The shower made his voice deeper and fuller. “I’ll get along fine until my left recovers. And I don’t need either hand to kiss you.”
With a quiet gasp, I dropped the roll of bandage tape. “We should test that claim. I seem to remember you using your hands quite a bit when you kiss me.”
“Hmm.” He slid off the counter. “Perhaps this does deserve some experimenting.” He closed the short space between us and smoothed a strand of hair off my face. “Oh,” he murmured, “you’re right. There’s one.”
I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His lips were warm and soft from the steam filling the room.
“Two,” he said, curling one arm around my waist to pull me close. Lips breezed over my cheek and neck. “Three.” With his good hand, he nudged my nightgown off my shoulder and kissed bare skin, then trailed his fingertips down my arm. His touch ignited sparks that traveled all the way to my stomach. My breath fluttered. “You’re very right.” His lips grazed my collarbone. “I use my hands all the time when I kiss you.”
I would have melted if he hadn’t been holding me up. The steam, his touch, his kiss: they made me light-headed and giddy, in spite of everything that had happened not an hour ago. Safe in his arms, with only the sound of the shower running, I could forget about the outside world and the rest of our problems.
“Do you remember what we talked about last night?” I kissed his ear, his cheek.
Sam gave a low rumble of assent. “You said you love me.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” Pleasure poured through me. After years of believing I wasn’t deserving of love, Sam had shown me I was. But that was different from accepting I could love others. Wrestling those feelings had been difficult, but last night, I’d said it, and it turned out that I’d loved him all along. “Guess what?”
He pulled away and met my eyes.
“I still love you today.”
His smile grew wide and warm.
“I heard a rumor,” I went on, “that the first day of the new year is your birthday.”
“Did you?” He suddenly looked shy.
“When we first met, you told me we shared a birthday.”
“Did I?” Panic flickered across his face, and his cheeks darkened. “I did. Oh.”
I kept my face as serious as I could manage, though laughter gathered in my chest and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. “So?” I lifted an eyebrow.
His whole face was dark with embarrassment. “Would you believe I forgot when my birthday is?”
I snorted and laughed. That was exactly what I thought he’d say, because when I looked back on that day, I remembered the hesitation and momentary confusion before he declared we had the same birthday. He had forgotten. “It’s all right. I love you on your real birthday and on your fake birthday. And all the other days.”
He grinned, relaxing. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Would you—” He seemed to fumble for the right words. “Would you like to sleep here with me? In my room, I mean. Not the washroom.”
The mess would still be downstairs in the morning, and his bedroom had appeared relatively unharmed when we passed through. We could take care of everything else in the morning. Or not. Yesterday, the ruling Council had exiled me from Heart, and Sam was leaving with me. Soon, we’d be on our way east. We didn’t have to clean the house.
We could put off real life until dawn.
“If you steal all the blankets, you’ll be sorry.” I reached inside the shower and turned off the spray. After dealing with the Council, visiting friends who’d come to express their outrage, and then the earthquake and eruptions, curling up with Sam was the most appealing thing I could think of.
The shower dripped for a moment longer, and then the house was silent. Maybe the debris had stopped falling outside. The whole world was still, and quiet, and waiting.
I felt behind me for the doorknob and pushed the washroom door open. Soon, everything would be perfect, if only for a few hours.
Sam’s smile fell away. A question formed in my mouth, but he grabbed my wrist, yanked, and spun me so I stood behind him. “What are you doing here?” he growled. He reached behind him with his good hand, palm on my hip as though to keep me in place.
My heart raced at his sudden shift. I peeked around him.
A stranger stood in Sam’s bedroom, clutching a long knife. He wore a filthy coat that hung to his ankles, but even in the dim light and with the heavy layer of fabric, I couldn’t miss the bulge of another weapon on his hip when he faced us.