Page 112 of Of Sword & Silver

The last time I was here, it was the dead of night and my own blood stained these floors.

“I am,” I say as he pulls me back into him, the heat of his palm searing through me. “I am very surprised someone as big as you can move like this.”

“Death’s embrace, no matter how expected, always comes as a surprise.”

I sigh, trying not to roll my eyes. “Do we have to talk about your religion right now? Can’t we just enjoy this moment without your god getting between us?”

His dark eyes glimmer, a lock of his silver hair escaping the leather he’s tied it back with. “He’s closer than you think,” he says.

I do roll my eyes this time. “That’s so encouraging, thank you for that.”

“Do you fear Death so much, Kyrie?” he asks, his tone different, deeper than usual.

The string quartet playing from the raised dais crescendos, and the Sword turns me out, then tugs me into his body, my back against his chest.

“I am not afraid to die, but I want to live,” I say easily.

“You’re a liar, through and through,” he says, and for some reason, the words are sad.

“I can want to live and not be afraid of death. I have things I need to do first,” I say, my steps faltering slightly.

Maybe his frown is just my imagination, though, because a moment later, he’s laughing, leading me into an elaborate pattern of steps that ends in a low dip. His mouth hovers over me, a whisper of a breath over the skin of my neck.

“What is it you so desperately want to do, Kyrie?”

I give him a smirk, glancing up and down his body suggestively. “I could show you.”

His hand spasms against my lower back and I laugh loudly, causing more people to stare at us. I exaggerate my movements more, selling it.

I do love to put on a show when the occasion calls for it.

“Is he here?” he asks quietly.

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he watching?” He spins me again and I float along the floor, my dress twirling around my legs as I survey the crowd.

Alaric, King of Diamonds and criminals, isn’t just watching. He’s staring at me with open hatred, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

Love it for me.

“Mission accomplished,” I tell the Sword sweetly as I lean into him.

He picks me up by the waist, surprising me, but I lift my arms in a hopefully graceful approximation of whatever step this is, my anxiety over pulling off this heist turning to sheer confidence.

“Let’s give him something to watch, then,” the Sword says, and it’s all I can do to keep up with him.

His body moves to the music with strength and ease belying his size and musculature. I’ve been so distracted with planning for this moment that I didn’t notice how much bigger he’s gotten since Cottleside.

I haven’t been this close to him since the night we kissed.

The song ends and we stop, standing still in the middle of the dance floor. The other revelers are clapping, but the Sword stands there devouring me with his gaze while my chest heaves in a heady mix of exhilaration and anticipation.

A flash of green catches my eye and Caedia dips her head at me, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as Morrow leads her on the dance floor.

“That’s our cue,” I say breathlessly.

The Sword doesn’t say anything.

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