Safire should have stopped Eris. Should have dragged her out of that circle and brought her to the searching Lumina. But she’d seen the look in that man’s eyes. He’d wanted to hurt Safire in the same way he’d hurt the one she saved from him.
She remembered Eris’s account of the night the scrin burned.
What if she was telling the truth?
Most of all, though, this wasn’t Firgaard. Safire didn’t know the punishment for directly challenging—worse, attacking—one of the empress’s soldiers. Safire might be the commandant of a visiting king, but she didn’t know how much that would count for.
Safire had very little power here. And Eris had saved her—how many times now? She’d lost count.
In a strange turn of events, one thing was certain: she trusted Eris. At least for the moment.
So, as Eris counted out the rhythm of the steps for her, Safire followed her direction, helping them blend in. At least until she could figure out what to do.
It was a strange sensation, letting Eris lead. It made her palms sweat and her pulse hum.
Soon, they were breathing as hard as the other dancers. As the caller shouted directions—ones Eris understood but she didn’t—Safire’s loose hair began to stick to her sweaty skin. Every once in a while, after a rosy-cheeked Eris scanned the perimeter, she would glance back at Safire, catch her gaze, and grin.
Like a shared secret, that grin made Safire’s heart beat too fast. It made her duck her eyes, trying to crush whatever warm thing was stirring within her.
Suddenly, the music stopped and Eris caught Safire hard around the waist, keeping her close. Their chests rose and fell with the breaths they took, and for a moment both of them looked beyond the circle. The Lumina were moving on. Only a few soldiers remained behind, speaking quietly with one another near one of the flower stalls.
Safire heard the crowd rumble around them as the caller—the man who’d handed Eris the wreath—shouted one last instruction. Eris went rigid, snagging Safire’s attention. She looked away from the Lumina and back to the circle.
Shouts of encouragement rose up around the ring. Safire looked to find the young man next to them reaching for his partner, then kissing her hard on the mouth. Safire glanced to the other pairs of dancers, all of them locked in intimate embraces.
Soon, the gazes of the spectators fell once more on the only couple not doing as instructed: Safire and Eris. The crowd began to chant as the caller repeated his final instruction, this time just for them.
Safire glanced to Eris, who was staring back at her.
The chanting grew louder. The Lumina soldiers glanced up from across the square, searching for the source of the increased noise.
Seeing it, Eris’s warm hands slid across Safire’s jaw, bringing her attention back. Safire looked up into her soft eyes.
“Ready?” she whispered.
Safire opened her mouth to say, You can’t be serious.
But Eris was already tipping Safire’s head back.
Already kissing her.
Cheering erupted around them.
At the touch of her lips, Safire’s nerves sparked. Sensing her panic, Eris’s thumb gently stroked her jaw, her throat. Soothing her. Coaxing her deeper into the kiss.
“You’re okay,” she murmured. “Just follow my lead.”
So Safire relaxed, doing just that.
Eris tasted like a storm. Like thunder and lightning and rain, all mixed into one. Safire reached for her shirt, needing an anchor against the tempest rising in her.
A tempest woken by Eris.
Eris smiled, her mouth curving against Safire’s, her hands sliding to her hips, drawing her closer.
Safire knew right then that if she didn’t pull away now, she might never pull away.
The thought frightened her.
She stepped quickly back, breathing hard.
The moment she opened her eyes, a glint of gold caught her attention. She tore her gaze from a startled Eris. She glanced beyond the circle, and found a young man watching her. His golden tunic bore the crest of a dragon twined round a sword, and his brown eyes were full of shock.
Dax.
He’d seen the whole thing.
Safire suddenly remembered herself. Remembered who she was with and what they were capable of. She’d just kissed the Death Dancer—the girl who’d stolen a jewel out of Dax’s treasury, one meant to assuage those hit worst by the scrubland blight.
The girl planning to hunt down Asha and deliver her to Jemsin.
Safire turned quickly back, reaching for Eris—to stop her from leaving. To make this right.
But Eris was already gone.
Twenty-Two
This time when Eris stepped through the gray, she focused hard on her destination. As the mists swirled, she no longer walked Axis’s festive streets, full of color and laughter and dancing. She strode beneath that star-studded sky, the silence sparkling around her as she took the path across.
When that dark blue door painted with a moon and stars appeared before her, Eris relaxed. She’d successfully escaped. Reaching for its silver knob, she opened it and stepped through, straight into the labyrinth, its stained-glass walls flickering in the eerie floating white lights above.
Shutting the door behind her, Eris let go of her focus. Looking down, she uncurled her fingers to reveal a pale blue ribbon lying across her palm.
Unlike the last few items she’d stolen from Safire—taken only to provoke—she had a purpose in mind for this one.
As Eris strode into the maze, she thought of Safire. Remembering the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips . . . and that look of horror on her face as she abruptly pulled away. While Eris smiled like an idiot.
What an utter fool I am.
She closed her hand around the ribbon, squeezing it tight.
“Good evening, Eris.”
The rasping voice behind her made her spine straighten. Eris whirled, stumbling away from the thing stepping out of the shadows she’d just come through. He had blue-black feathers, hooklike talons, and eyes as red as blood.
Kadenze.
Jemsin’s summoner.
Half man, half monster, Kadenze was the one thing that could follow her through the mists and across: to this in-between place. It was the reason she had never successfully escaped Jemsin—because it could track her anywhere.
The summoner’s hellish gaze burned into her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Eris shoved the ribbon behind her back, swallowing hard. “What does he want?”
“Jemsin is very concerned.”
Eris narrowed her eyes at the monster before her. “Yeah? Well you can tell Jemsin that his good mate Kor delayed me considerably.”
“Jemsin will deal with Kor,” said Kadenze, its bloody gaze moving over her. “You do your job.”
“I’m on it,” Eris growled. “Just give me some time. Tides.”
“He wants to remind you,” said Kadenze, moving closer, “of the cost of failure.”
But Eris had never failed a job, and she wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not with so much at stake. If she handed him the Namsara, Jemsin would let her walk free. If she failed, he would deliver her to her enemies.
Of course she wouldn’t fail.
A sudden, sweeping cold rushed in, making her shiver. Feeling it, the summoner looked up over Eris’s shoulder to the stained-glass panels behind her. Eris didn’t look. She knew what it was: the ghost moving in the labyrinth, probably drawn to the sound of their voices.