Page 11 of The Song Rising

“I must,” he said. “To speak with Terebell about what you have learned.”

I couldn’t stomach this atmosphere between us. The golden cord—the fragile link that had connected our spirits for several months—was supposed to tell me what he was thinking, what he was feeling, but all I sensed was an echo chamber for the void inside me.

“You must remove Jaxon’s remaining supporters, Paige.” He had stopped. “It is Terebell’s desire. Fail to do this, and you risk dissatisfying her.”

“You just heard me—”

“I was not referring to his supporters in general. You know which two I mean.”

Zeke and Nadine. I glanced at him from behind my hair. “Have you told Terebell that I haven’t evicted them from I-4?”

“Not yet.”

“But you will.”

“I may have no choice. She will ask.”

“And you’ll tell her.”

“You seem exasperated.”

“Do I really, Warden?”

“Yes.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Terebell is obsessed with the tiny minority who support Jaxon,” I explained, calmer. “She needs to stop. I know she hates him—I know it’s personal for her, and for you—but having to think about it is distracting me from things weneedto focus on, like Senshield.”

“She views your unwillingness to replace him as a sign that you are secretly loyal to your old mime-lord. That you await his return. Your refusal to expel Zeke and Nadine will only increase her suspicion.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake—” I shrugged on my jacket. “I’ll deal with it. Give me a few days.”

“You have delayed the matter because of Nick’s feelings for Zeke.”

“You might know Terebell’s mind, Warden, but don’t presume you have any insight into mine.”

He fell silent, but his eyes burned.

Heat fanned across my face. Before I could say anything more, I snatched up my bag and headed for the door.

“You may think me subservient to the Ranthen. Perhaps my respect for duty disappoints you,” he said. I stopped. “Terebell is my sovereign-elect. I owe her my service and my allegiance—but do not think me some mindless instrument of her will. I remind you that I am my own master. I remind you that I have defied the Ranthen. And still do.”

“I know,” I said.

“You do not believe me.”

A long breath escaped me. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Warden’s gaze darted across my features before he lightly touched the underside of my jaw, lifting my face. My heart thumped as I looked him in the eye.

The contact awakened something that had lain dormant for weeks, since the night before the scrimmage. As we watched each other, linked by the barest touch of his fingertips, I didn’t know what I wanted to do; what I wantedhimto do. Leave me. Talk to me. Stay with me.

My hands moved as if by instinct—smoothing up to the rounds of his shoulders, settling at the nape of his neck. His palms stroked down the length of my back. I searched him the way I might search a map for a path I had known long ago, chasing the familiar, learning what I had forgotten. When our foreheads met, my dreamscape danced with the flames he always set there.

We were quiet for a while. My fingers found the hollow of his throat, where his pulse tolled—and I wondered, as I had before, why an immortal being had need of a heartbeat. I willed it to calm me, but it only made my own run faster. His hands rasped through my curls; I felt his breath flit over them, felt warmth race and rise beneath my skin. When I couldn’t stand the separation anymore, I wound an arm around his neck and closed what space was left between us.

It was lighting a fire after days in the rain. I pressed my mouth to his, feverishly seeking a connection, and he answered in kind. I tasted wine first, a hint of oak, then him.

The strain of staying away from him had almost snapped me in half. Now I was cradled to his chest, I had thought that strain would ease, but I only wanted him to hold me tighter, closer. We kissed with a hunger that was almost a hurt, an ache deepened by weeks apart. I felt for the door handle, found no bolt or key to protect us from discovery—but I couldn’t stop. I needed this.

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