“I scratched its itches and told it jokes, and sometimes it purred for me and promised to miss me when I left. That is friendship, with a demon.”
The sorceress blinked rapidly and her lips parted, but she paused and those lips spread in a real smile. “Would you like me to scratch your itches, Nothing, to win your friendship?”
Nothing felt heat in her cheeks, throbbing from the burning flower over her heart. She certainly needed more liquor for this conversation. “Ah, I…”
The sorceress laughed lightly. “I did not get to tease you so, when you were a demon.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t tease me now, either!” Nothing insisted, trying to scowl. But her answering smile shone through. She dipped her chin, still glancing up at the sorceress.
The delighted expression on the sorceress’s lovely copper face faded slowly, in a gentle way like the setting sun. Not closed off, nor cold. But she did not speak.
Nothing wanted to know why. She did want to know this sorceress; she wanted to see the impetuous creature.
A gasp caught in her throat. She wanted. Nothing grinned: it was the first thing she’d realized she wanted for no reason that could possibly have to do with Kirin.
The sorceress narrowed her eyes. “What is that smile?”
Nothing laughed. Now the sorceress wanted the same thing from her. It felt good. It felt… powerful. Nothing shook her head slowly. “I should go.” Before she lost this feeling. She should go while it reigned in her heart.
Nothing liked how the sorceress seemed to stop breathing for a moment, then drew herself to her feet and pointed imperiously at the wall.
“There is the exit,” the sorceress said as a door appeared, carved with flowers painted red and pink. Nothing’s door.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Nothing said, dashing for her bedroom. She stopped before opening the door and turned to add, “I’m looking forward to it.”
Then she laughed again, quite happily.
Only a slight shock began to appear on the sorceress’s face before Nothing grasped the many-petaled flower knob and left.
TWENTY-FIVE
NOTHING WENT STRAIGHT INTO her room, turned, closed the door and opened it again. This time it opened into the corridor outside. She headed for the altar room, wondering if Sky and Kirin remained there. It had been hours since she left. But where had they to go, unless the dragon guided them?
The two young men sat together on the floor, backs against the altar that had been Sky’s bed. Around them scattered the remains of quite a meal, platters and bowls of crumbs and streaking sauces, and a bottle of wine leaned against Kirin’s thigh, trapped between them.
When she barged in, Sky smiled, but Kirin frowned.
“Where did you go?” he demanded, drawing one leg toward him to rest his arm against his knee.
The displeasure in his voice and posture soured her stomach. Nothing stopped and planted her feet wide, fists on her hips to resist him. “I can go where I like,” she said.
“But should you? You abandoned us.”
“Kirin,” Sky said with obvious censure.
Kirin closed his mouth in a tight line. Even on the floor he looked imperial. Arrogant. A unique flower to be envied in his red jacket and perfect hair.
“If I’d abandoned you, I wouldn’t be back,” she said, unable to stop herself. Keeping her distance and holding on to irritation seemed the best she could do.
“I should command you to get us out of here now,” he said. Knocking the wine bottle aside, he rose to his feet. “What I want is to be gone from this place. You can resist my unspoken wants, the drag of our bond, but if I invoke your true name you have to obey.”
“You won’t,” she said as firmly as she could, but wavering. She tilted her chin up to hold his gaze as he came smoothly toward her. “You won’t because you’ll lose me forever if you do it on purpose.”
The prince’s arrogant expression melted. He even lowered his eyes. “But you should still get us out of here.”
“I made a bargain. We’ll be free in two more days.”
Sky walked to them with a hesitance born of injury and put his hand on Kirin’s shoulder. The bodyguard wore a silver-gray tunic so thin and silky it was like a slip more than a shirt, falling halfway down his thighs over soft-looking black trousers. The tunic stretched against his massive shoulders, not quite large enough.
Kirin turned his head to meet Sky’s gaze.
Nothing let her arms relax slightly. She’d only come to see they were well, not to argue. She might as well leave again, before Kirin twisted her up more.
But Sky pushed around Kirin and grasped Nothing’s shoulders. He hunched to stare straight at her. “I don’t believe you’re a demon.”
His touch was so warm, so normal, compared to the sorceress.
“Maybe a goblin, though,” he added.
Nothing laughed once.
Behind him, Kirin rolled his head dramatically enough to make sure Nothing saw it. Then the prince spun and returned to the altar. He swept up the bottle of wine, lifted it to his lips and tipped back his head to reveal the full, white length of his neck, before bonelessly dropping onto the altar, one hand to his forehead, the other dangling the bottle.
Nothing blinked and Sky hummed, both realizing they’d been caught in the same admiring trap.
Sky slid one hand down Nothing’s arm, letting her go with his other. He took her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around two of his. There remained a greenish bruise on the right corner of his jaw.
“It’s why I knew and you didn’t. Nobody did,” Nothing said softly.
The bodyguard’s fingers stiffened in her hand, but he knew what she meant. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re nothing like a demon. I’ve met demons.”
“She’s something new,” Kirin said passionately, eyes shut. The vibrant red skirt of his jacket spilled down the altar in a fan. “And…”
“And?” Nothing demanded after a long moment.
Kirin turned his head and opened his dark-honey eyes. “And I like that you’re mine.”
“Kirin,” Sky said again.
“No,” Nothing said.
“Because you remind me that something new is possible,” Kirin said, sitting again in one swinging motion. He put the butt of the wine bottle on the altar and leaned toward her, feet just brushing the floor. “I didn’t understand what you are, Nothing, but that’s what I liked. That’s what I loved. You could be anything. I didn’t know it was anything I wanted. I thought you were just… you. And I’m not sorry for liking you. I’m not sorry for wanting what we have.”
Nothing forgave him. Just like that; she couldn’t help it. Or maybe she wanted to. How could she ever know without her name? Without breaking the binding? She went to him, leaving Sky behind, and sank to her knees, pressing her head to the edge of the altar, her shoulder to his leg.
The weight of his hand settled on her head, stroking her hair. His fingers slid into the strands, finding her scalp, and it was her favorite thing in the world. He said softly, “Do you remember the dying orange tree in the Fire Garden? The day we met.”
She nodded, scraping her skin on the altar.