The chapel was truly gorgeous, alive with buzzing gilt and old dark murals, tapestries of kings and saints draped along the walls. A reliquary of solid gold rested on the table before us, throbbing with song.
There was only a single way in and out. Past the iron gate the party continued its rhythm of surge and ebb, framed now by bars and the silhouettes of the guards in their old-fashioned costumes and wigs. A woman nearby stumbled into one of them and erupted into peals of laughter; the man steadied her without moving his feet.
My gaze was angled downward. Through my lashes and the netting I was admiring Sandu, the jade green hue of his velvet coat and breeches, the shape of his calves in cream stockings and the silver buckles on his shoes. He paused by a draped corner of the altar; I heard the song of the reliquary soar into bliss with the stroke of his finger, and I thought,Oh, I know.
"Are you shocked?" I asked, mostly to cover that song. "That I'd resort to bribery?"
"Not at all. I admire a woman of practicality. A few more minutes out there in that mess and I might have had to Turn and eaten my way out."
I glanced up at his face. He fixed me with that light, strange gaze; the corners of his lips lifted into something like a smile.
My heart began a tattooing skip. He's here, it beat finally here, here, here. "Ah," I managed. "Not a good idea, I'm afraid. Look up, my lord."
He did, and then I did, both of us taking in the elaborately carved arches of the wooden ceiling, the impressive round medallion centered above us that depicted a knight on his horse. The dying dragon at their feet.
"Tonight is the Festes de la Merce." I lifted my veil with both hands, flipping it over my hair. "Some say it's to honor the Virgin. Others say it's for him."
"St. George," discerned the prince, his head tipped back. "Lovely."
"And the unlucky dragon, whoever it was. No doubt right now someone somewhere nearby has partaken of too much wine and brandishes a rather wicked lance. Probably several someones—they're quite fond ofSant Jordi here, I fear. Better tonight to be just a prince, I think."
"Yes," said Alexandru, in his untroubled tone. "No doubt."
We paused, both of us; my gaze dipped downward again. The shadows shifted, and Sandu took a step closer to me.
"And you knew to bribe the guards .?" "Because I knew you were coming tonight." "You saw it. From the future."
"Actually, I left myself a note." I shrugged. "I tend to do that." I watched him slowly shake his head. "It's true," I insisted.
"I know. It must be. As mad as it is, it's the only explanation. You travel through time. Yet it's so ..."
"Bizarre?" I offered, feeling a knot begin to clench in my stomach. "Off-putting?"
"Astonishing." He grinned at me then, a genuine grin, one I'd never seen before; it transformed him into someone I didn't know, someone young and heart breakingly handsome. He looked me in the eyes and the knot inside me began to melt like sugar stirred into hot tea. "The most astonishing Gift ever . You are ... remarkably fortunate Mademoiselle Carlisle."
"Oh," I said, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. "I'm pleased you think so. You're very kind, my lord."
"No," he said, and took another step closer to me. "I'm actually not."
I don't think he realized he'd spoken Romanian to me then. It barely registered even with me, but I'd spent the past two years disciplining myself into fluency—as fluent as one could become without an actual tutor. I'd not dared to inform Lia or Zane of my intent. No doubt I was better at reading Romanian than speaking it; his accent was unfamiliar to me, but the words were clear . as was his tone.
His voice had darkened. His eyes had darkened. It was a reaction I was beginning to receive more and more from human men as I aged, but coming from another of my kind, from an Alpha prince ... my physical response ripped through me like lightning. Yearning. Excitement. Every nerve ending in my body began to jangle.
One more step—
"Do you know what's before us?" I asked in English, breaking the moment. I motioned toward the reliquary.
Sandu shook his head again, never taking his gaze from mine.
"A femur. That's what they say. His femur. One of the most celebrated dragon-hunters of all time, reduced to bits of bone and dust, enshrined in gold and kept behind bars. I wonder what he'd think of the two of us, standing free here before him."
I was prattling and I knew it. I closed my mouth with a snap.
Alexandru lifted a hand to my face. The festival receded, the bells and stone songs and my nervousness and all the human chatter receded. I felt his fingertips skim the curve of my cheek, glance the powdered coils of my hair. An energy hit me,his energy, waves of swooning power floating through my veins, and it felt so splendid and so right I thought I might never move again.
I smelled orange and spices and him. His next words reached me soft as silk.
"Are we still to be wed, Honor Carlisle?"
"I don't know," I whispered, unable to look away. "I haven't told me." His smile again, that subtle one. His gaze dropped to my lips.
From beyond the walls of the palace came an explosion. The crowd in the Grand Salon let out a cheer, began to press their way upstairs or down.
"Fireworks," I murmured. "For the festival."
The pair of guards looked back at us, both of them at once. Sandu gave a slight shake of his head, eased away from me.
"May I offer my escort,senyoreta ?"
I nodded, mute, and he presented me with a formal, seamless bow that even the king would have envied.
She took him to an inner courtyard paved with limestone but dotted with living trees, each one shaped precisely, emerald oval leaves, a lingering hint of nectar still discernible from the sap beneath the bark.
Orange trees, thriving out here in this arid, perfect heat. He felt the fruit he still held in his palm, the pulpy weight of it, and let his nails dig in a little to release a spray of scent. It was better than the human perfume that clouded around him. It was second best, however, to the scent of Honor, standing still and calm less than a foot away. She was close enough that her skirts brushed his legs, and still he wanted closer.
She smelled like ... he didn't know. Like herself, like his dreams, like sweet breezes but more sultry. Like jasmine and honey.
She wore no human cologne. The powder on her hair was scented, and the satin of her gown was scented, but he'd learned to dismiss chemical notes like those a long while ago. Her lips were rouged, and might have tasted of raspberries had he nerve enough to find out ... perhaps he was imagining that. Perhaps it was only a wish. He enjoyed raspberries. And he enjoyed gazing at her lips, their sweet reddened pucker.
She felt his attention. With a howling-loud firework discharging into white above them, her eyes cut back to his.
Brilliance; a hot clear light that lifted her irises nearly to turquoise, that reflected off her skin in a way it never would for a human female. She looked back at him soberly, framed in curls and a dark fall of netting. Above them a shower of luminous sparks began their slow dying float back to earth.
Alexandru felt strange. He felt almost intoxicated, actually. It was disconcerting enough that he pressed his nails harder into the orange, let the juice run over his fingers. He looked away from her to break it apart into segments, and then ate one without tasting it.
Honor watched the heavens. When he offered her a wet piece of pulp from his palm, she accepted it without glancing back at him again, without even removing her gloves. She brought the piece to her lips and sucked at it thoughtfully, and the strangeness enveloping him rose to dizzying new heights.