“I am not literally two people though, am I?” she countered, raising an eyebrow that Pyre could not see behind her mask.
He laughed easily. “I suppose not. But still; when you fly into a rage you are rather different than your usual self, Temp.”
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
“I can think of a far better way to channel that energy than merely fighting,” he said, his tone dripping with insinuation, before his lips caressed her skin. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and a small sigh caught in her throat. This was the banter she remembered, the Pyre she had grown to like, and thought was her friend.
This Pyre isn’t real.
She stiffened, and her eyes snapped open; the magic broken. Dancing with him like this was a mistake. Flirting with him was dangerous. He’d already proven he couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth, nor not to hurt her. If she let herself, she could lose everything to him. That couldn’t happen. Too much was at stake.
“Tempest.” She forced herself to meet Pyre’s gaze, which was uncharacteristically serious. He pointed toward one of the balconies, which was unoccupied. “Could we speak privately for a moment?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Now was the time to tell him.
As they escaped through the throng of people, she tried desperately to work out how to word what she had to say. Each step they took up the stairs, her pulse leapt. By the time they reached the wintry air of the balcony, however, her mind had gone completely blank.
Pyre closed the glass doors behind them, cutting off the noise of the masquerade. It was just the two of them, surrounded by delicate, silvery lights and the darkness of a northern evening. She followed Pyre to the edge of the balcony, where an iron and stone wall protected them from a precipitous fall. A healthy fire roared in the pit, cutting the chill. She glanced down and gulped—precipitous was an understatement. She could not see the ground.
“Scared of heights, Temp?” Pyre teased. “To be honest, I’m not all that great with them myself.”
“I’ve ridden a dragon,” she said dryly. Her brows furrowed. “If you’re not fond of heights, why build a palace in a mountain?”
Pyre pushed his mask up, an incredulous expression on his face. “Come now. You can’t honestly believe that I built this place, do you? It’s centuries old!”
Tempest felt foolish, and her cheeks burned at the comment. “I didn’t mean you, I meant why choose this place as your palace?” she admitted. “Has the Dark Court always been here?”
“As long as the capital has stood.”
She shook her head. “Unbelievable. How has it managed to survive for so long? An organized underworld older than most reigning families in Heimserya and its neighbors. It’s—”
“Definitely a bit intimidating,” Pyre finished for her, smiling softly. He turned his gaze to the sky. The storms had cleared, leaving a pure, unfettered night-time sky littered with stars and a far, full moon. He sighed heavily. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do.”
He cracked a smile. “Never one to beat around the bush. That’s what I like about you.” He sighed. “Tempest, I’m sorry I lied about my other form. I should have told you about Mal before you arrived here. I just… don’t trust many people.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, pointing at her mask. “What about this? I thought you said that was a test of whether you could trust me. I didn’t tamper with the box.”
“If only things were so simple.” He laughed. He turned to face her, molten eyes keen on hers. When he raised a gloved hand to remove the wolf mask from her face, she did not protest. “I do trust you, though. But I had… other reasons… to keep you at bay.”
Pyre stroked Tempest’s cheek tenderly, causing her heart to constrict painfully.
“Your presence here, among my people, has done more good than you could ever know,” he continued, still stroking her face. “I know we do not always agree on my methods—we probably never will—but know that your decision to help the rebellion will bring positive change to so many people as a whole. Speaking of the greater good is always difficult, but—”
“War is difficult,” she said, smiling sadly, leaning into Pyre’s touch without truly realizing it. “You said that before.”
“You must know I was speaking the truth.”
“Yes, but the truth is—”
“Difficult,” Pyre interrupted.
Neither of them spoke for a long, tense moment. Tempest’s skin pebbled, and nervous energy churned in her belly. She wasn’t sure if she was to fight, run, or kiss the dangerous man in front of her. The latter would be a mistake for the both of them.
“But, despite all this, I know the truth,” he whispered. “I was naïve before.”
Pyre leaned forward and kissed her. A press of warm, hungry lips on hers, the flick of a tongue, and the graze of pointed canines. She flushed hot and then cold. Her body longed to melt into the kiss. Longed for her to let the kitsune wrap his arms around her and make her forget about everything.
But her conscience was stronger.
“Stop,” she mumbled.
“Never,” he whispered, nibbling at her bottom lip, his hands framing either side of her face.
Tempest dug deep and pushed him away a few inches. “No more!”
He examined her face, and her pulse doubled its speed. “What is it, love?” he asked, his voice low and raw with desire. “After everything that’s happened… I know this isn’t one sided. You at least feel something for me—”
“Destin proposed to me,” she said woodenly. “And I—I said yes.”
Pyre grew as still as if he were made of stone. The air thickened around them, and all she could hear was her own frantic heartbeat in her ears. Claws extended from his fingertips, and his gaze burned her. He growled, and his fox ears went flat against his head.
The hair at the nape of her neck rose.
“No.”
Twenty-Eight
Tempest
“No,” Pyre repeated, fury building in his eyes. “No, no, no! What have you done, Tempest? What have you—”
She held her hands up, her pulse skyrocketing. “I’ve done what is necessary.”
“Necessary?” he spat.
“Yes, necessary. Look at me!”
The kitsune glared at her.
She stabbed a finger toward the ballroom. “I’ve allowed you to parade me around like we agreed upon, but what good has it really done? Nothing but make me a laughingstock. You promised we would work together, and yet you’ve kept me in the dark, had me just waiting for the next scrap you throw me.”
“So, you want to seize power?”
“I don’t want any of this,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been thrust into the middle of a war, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep the bloodshed low. Right now, I feel as if my hands are tied, but as queen of this bloody kingdom, I could make changes without sacrificing so many lives. Surely you can see the merit in that?” She reached out for his hand, squeezing it. His claws scratched her palm, but she didn’t let go. “You know me. I’m just trying to do what’s best for all of us.”