"I'm fine." Cassi waved the question away. "The old man suspected nothing. I blubbered and apologized like a frightened little girl, so he gave me a lecture and moved on with his day. He didn't see you. And something about the dry way he spoke made me certain we weren't the first young lovers found in the tunnels late at night, just as I'd hoped."
"Good thinking."
"I try." She grinned, lighthearted and perfectly herself, though he couldn't help but notice the smile didn't reach her eyes. "So why were you trying to find me?"
"Why were you in the tunnels?"
"We're back to this?"
"Cassi."
"Fine." She sighed, her shoulders caving in. Dejection racked her body and she slumped against the wall. Xander eased onto the table behind him, careful to keep a distance between them. It made thinking so much easier. "I was trying to get into the archives. Is that what you want to hear?"
"No."
"Look, Xander. I know it was stupid and reckless and that I could've gotten into a lot of trouble. But if there was even a chance that I could uncover something that might help us find Lyana, I had to take it. Don't you understand that? I had to."
He closed his eyes, his anger wilting.
"When that owl came saying you had a messenger, I just knew it was bad news from home. I just knew tonight was my last chance to find something, anything, that might help us, and I had to take it. And I was right, wasn't I? We're going back to the House of Whispers, aren't we? Something's happened? You mentioned Luka?"
Interesting that she addressed the dove prince so informally. Xander stored that information away as he tried to steer the conversation back to his questions, her attempt at changing the subject not unnoticed. "Did you touch anything in the vaults, Cassi? Did anyone see you? Did you—"
"No," she cut him off gruffly. "I found a few doors, but they were all locked, and I was so deep into the tunnels I could hardly see a thing. Before I got lost, I made my way back out, which is when I ran into you."
Xander eyed the lumpy bag hanging near her hip. "What's in that?"
"A cloak. I thought I might be able to pass it off as an archivist robe in the darkness of the tunnels if I got caught."
"And that's all?"
With a dramatic sigh, she slipped the strap over her head and held out the bag to him. "You can check it if you don’t believe me. I didn't take anything, Xander. I would tell you if I found something. We've been in this together from the start. Why would I start lying now?"
Why indeed…
She was doing everything right—the tone of her voice, the challenging gesture, as though she was daring him not to trust her. But that was the problem. He did trust her. He'd never had any reason to doubt her until now, and it was for no reason at all. It was just a feeling that her lips and her eyes were at war, and he didn't know which one to believe.
"No," he finally said. "No, I believe you. Of course I believe you. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. The messenger tonight was Helen."
"Helen?" Her spine straightened and she stood alert, taking a step toward him as her eyes widened with surprise. Again, he couldn’t help but feel as though she was simply going through the motions, as though there was an emptiness to her gaze. "What's Helen doing here? How is Luka involved?"
"The dove prince is camped outside Pylaeon with an army of a hundred men, demanding to see his sister. That's why I was summoned. We return to the House of Whispers at dawn."
"Oh, Luka." She dropped her forehead into her palms, shaking her head. "He's worried. I know him, Xander. He's not trying to start a war. All his life, he's protected Lyana, mostly from herself, and now she's gone. He's afraid, and he doesn't know how to handle it." With a soft groan, she dropped her arms back to her sides and looked up. "What are you going to do?"
"I—" Xander paused, frowning. "I don't actually know. We haven't discussed it yet. I wanted to find you first, so you’d have a chance to pack your things before we leave. Helen and I were going to figure out a plan after I got back. How long have we been gone?"
She grimaced. "Long."
"I should—I should probably go. Helen must be worried."
"You go. I'll wait here for a little while so no one sees us together, just in case."
"Good idea."
He didn't move. She didn't either. The air prickled with an awkwardness that had never existed between them before, the sort that came with crossing lines that weren't supposed to be crossed. They'd been faking. Those illicit moments in the tunnels were nothing but a ruse. Yet he still felt the outline of her lips on his throat, and he wondered if there was an invisible brand on her body too, one he didn't even realize he'd left behind.
Xander rubbed at the tingling spot on his neck, as though to wipe it clean. Cassi hugged her arms around her middle, and he suddenly remembered his fingers digging into the soft curve of her waist as he held her close. Chest tight, he looked away.
"Xander?"
"Yes?"
"I didn't— Before, I mean. I didn't—"
"I know."
"I was worried what might happen if you got caught."
"I know."
"It didn’t mean anything."
"Of course not."
But it did. And they both knew it. Because that gentle kiss she'd pressed against his skin hadn't been part of a game. It was a stolen moment that had to stay buried in the dark.
He lifted his head, surprised to find a watery sheen to her eyes. Suddenly the hollowness in her voice became clear. She hadn't been lying. She'd been trying to face him while holding back tears. It was Cassi's turn to glance away.
"You should go," she said.
So he did.
34
Cassi
She was crying. Gods alive—magic alive—whatever damned curse in either world combined—why, oh why was she crying? Cassi wiped angrily at her cheeks, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. They kept on coming. For weeks, she'd been stuffing her feelings away, pushing them down and down and down to the very tips of her toes, and now they were erupting with the unforgiving force of a volcano. It wasn't just Xander. It was Lyana, and Rafe, and Malek, and the sense that her world was crashing in all around her. Ever since that day at the edge of the House of Whispers, when she watched Malek sail away with her hopes and her dreams, she'd been struggling to maintain her control, balancing her problems like a stack of cards, using denial and excuses to keep the pieces afloat. One wrong move and the whole thing would cave in. Tonight, she'd made that move.
I never should've kissed him.
It wasn't even a kiss, really. Her lips hadn't touched his lips, just the barest brush of skin. She didn't know why she'd done it, only that he’d been there, and so close, and she’d wanted to. She hadn’t even thought he would feel it, but then his entire body had gone stiff, and she’d known she'd made a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake. Because in that moment, she hadn't been Cassi, the grieving owl, or Kasiandra, the deceiving spy. She'd been the girl with no name, the one stuck in the middle with no best friend and no king and no loyalties aside from the wishes in her heart, and she'd wanted him to see her.