I stared at him, my heartbeat pounding suddenly violent in my ears. I couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t ask me. It would ruin everything.
And yet . . . I would have to tell him eventually. This game couldn’t last forever. Swallowing hard, I lifted my chin. Perhaps after everything we’d been through, he would be able to see past it. Perhaps he could change—for me. For us. Perhaps I could too.
“I’m not hiding anything, Reid. Ask me whatever you want.”
He sighed heavily at the tremble in my voice, pulling me close and lifting a hand to stroke my hair. “I won’t force you. If you aren’t comfortable enough to tell me, it’s my fault, not yours.”
Of course he would think that. Of course he would think the worst of himself instead of seeing the truth—that the worst was in me. I buried my face in his chest. Even in his frustration, Reid was kinder to me than anyone I’d ever known. I didn’t deserve it.
“It’s not you.” I clutched him closer in the gathering shadows, breathing in his scent. It melded perfectly with the comforting smells of the attic. Of my home. “It’s me. But I—I can try. I can try to tell you.”
“No. We don’t have to talk about this now.”
I shook my head determinedly. “Please . . . ask me.”
His hand stilled on my hair, and the world stilled with it—not unlike the eerie calm before magic. Even the breeze through the window seemed to pause, lingering in my hair, between his fingers. Waiting. I forgot how to breathe.
But the question never came.
“Are you from Cesarine?” His hand trailed down my hair to the small of my back, and the wind swept on, dissatisfied. I focused on the gentle movement, disappointment and hideous relief warring in my heart.
“No. I grew up in a small community north of Amandine.” I smiled wistfully against his chest at the half-truth. “Surrounded by mountains and sea.”
“And your parents?”
The words flowed easier now, the tightness in my chest easing as the immediate danger passed. “I never knew my father. My mother and I are . . . estranged.”
His hand halted again. “She’s alive, then?”
“Yes. Very.”
“What happened between the two of you?” He pulled back, searching my face with renewed interest. “Is she here in Cesarine?”
“I sincerely hope not. But I’d rather not talk about what happened. Not yet.”
Still a coward.
“Fair enough.”
Still a gentleman.
His gaze fell to my scar, and he bent down slowly, brushing a kiss against it. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. “How did you get this?”
“My mother.”
He jerked back as if the silver line had bitten him, horror clouding his eyes. “What?”
“Next question.”
“I— Lou, that’s—”
“Next question. Please.”
Though his brows still furrowed in concern, he pulled me to him once more. “Why did you become a thief?” His voice grew rougher, graver, than before. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him tight.
“To get away from her.”
He tensed against me. “You’re not going to elaborate, are you?”
I rested my cheek against his chest and sighed. “No.”
“You had a cruel childhood.”
I almost laughed. “Not at all. My mother pampered me, actually. Gave me everything a little girl could ever want.”
His voice dripped with disbelief. “But she tried to kill you.” When I didn’t answer, he shook his head, sighing and stepping away. My arms fell heavy to my sides. “It must be one hell of a story. I’d like to hear it someday.”
“Reid!” I swatted his arm, all thoughts of blood rituals and altars falling away, and an incredulous grin split my face. He looked suddenly sheepish. “Did you just curse?”
“Hell isn’t a curse word.” He refused to meet my eyes, staring instead at the racks of costumes behind me. “It’s a place.”
“Of course it is.” I inched back to the window, the beginning of a smile tugging on my lips. “Speaking of fun places . . . I want to show you another secret.”
Where You Go
Lou
He collapsed on the rooftop a few moments later, white-faced and panting, his eyes shut tight against the open sky. I poked him in the ribs. “You’re missing the view.”
He clenched his jaw and swallowed as if about to be sick. “Give me a minute.”