Page 184 of The Demon Tide

“You won’t need that book,” Lucretia says. “I’ll protect you. I’m going to help the Vu Trin blast those dragons clear out of the sky. You can deflower me after we’re done.”

“That’s my girl,” Jules says, a sly look in his eyes to match her own. “Let’s go fight Marcus Vogel.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOWMAGE

Sparrow Trillium And Thierren Stone

Xishlon night, twenty-second hour

“What do you want to do?” Sparrow asks Thierren, both of them so shy to be truly alone on her First Tier apartment’s small balcony, the moon’s lulling purple light cast over the world.

She leans back against the balcony’s metal railing, gripping its edge,hard.

Raucous crowds stream by below, the sky above the dome steeped in a wash of violet stars. Music rises on the air, the ragged beats and sultry chords filling Sparrow with a sweet, almost painful anticipation. Thierren watches her, his breath seeming suspended, as she opens the vial of Sanjire root and places a small tendril of the bitter root in her mouth, a spot of color rising high on his cheeks.

He gives her a secretive smile, his voice a murmur when he finally answers her. “I want to doallthe forbidden things.”

A thrill rushes through Sparrow even as her mouth quirks upward in amusement. “Everything’s forbidden in Gardneria, Thierren. That covers quite a bit of ground.”

He breathes a short, silent laugh at this and they exchange a deeply knowing look. Because in so many ways, the two of them have more in common as Westerners than they do with these startlingly brazen Easterners and their lovely, outrageous purple moon celebration of love. Even the purple hue itself is a forbidden thing in Gardneria, one of a long list of “heathen” colors forbidden by the MageBook of the Ancients. And the gem-hued Xishlon wine Mii Vun left for them...forbidden, as well.

AndSanjire root? Sparrow grows breathless over just the thought of it. That’s in a whole other category of forbidden in both Thierren’s former world and hers.

Sparrow’s possession of the pregnancy-preventing root was awkwardly acknowledged by them both when she signaled its presence. She can barely believe she summoned the courage to purchase it, feeling, the whole time, like she was engaged in a sordid activity that would bring not just the authorities but the vengeance of the Ge’o deities down on her head. She hesitated in the shadows at first, watching young Noi women chat and joke with the elderly apothecary as they purchased their own Sanjire root without a whit of shame, some exchanging ribald Xishlon sayings and tales. Completely open about all of it.

It was a stunning revelation, a raw resentment pricking at Sparrow as the subversive thought rose—why shouldn’tallwomen have this freedom and power? Western and Eastern alike?

“Perhaps let’s start with some forbidden wine,” Thierren gently suggests, coaxing her from her thoughts, the sudden softness to his deep voice belying some understanding of her tumultuous culture shock. His mouth tics up. “And after that, I’ll kiss the forbidden purple glitter off your beautiful lips.”

Sparrow’s eyes widen. Thierren grins warmly at her even as he flushes, seeming pleased by his own brazen statement. Her heart swells with affection as she realizes they’re both doing the same thing—harnessing the moon’s Xishlon light to experiment with being bold. To experiment with showing and telling each other the truth of their desires, both of them in a state of active rebellion against the West.

Because, Sparrow realizes, she has therightto ribald jokes and Sanjire root and welcoming this man she loves into both her heart and her body if she so chooses. Just like Thierren has the right to not just desire someone, but to love them deeply.Anyonehe chooses.

The West be fully damned.

“Well, then, pour me some wine, Thierren Stone.” Her bravado has her own blush flaring hotter. “And then I’ll cover every inch of you in forbidden purple glitter.”

Completely lovestruck, Thierren pours wine into the long-stemmed glasses Mii Vun left for them on the balcony’s small table, their violet crystal decorated with lavender moons.

“Oh, Thierren,” Sparrow enthuses, seeming entranced by the glowing beauty of the rose-flavored spirits. “It’s like you’re pouring pure moonlight.”

Thierren smiles, charmed by her observation as he hands her a glass of the iridescent purple liquid. Sparrow’s fingers brush against his, and it sends a tingle straight through him as their eyes meet, that ever-present desire firing between them.

Sparrow pulls in a wavering breath, then settles back against the banister, sipping the wine, and he follows her bashful gaze out over Voloi. A myriad of jewel-bright purple rune orbs drip from every eave and from the branches of the pear trees that line the street and surround their balcony.

“The West seems so far away, doesn’t it?” Sparrow closes her eyes and breathes in deep, the air perfumed with the delicate scents of rose mingled with jasmine incense and sweet pears, one of the pear trees so close Thierren could reach out and pluck the ripe, lilac fruit.

Just like Thierren wants to reach out and pluck Sparrow. They’ve been on a collision course with each other for some time now, he considers, his feelings for her running much too strong to ever be denied again.

Sparrow’s eyes warm with affection as she looks at him, the purple glitter on her eyes and mouth sparkling in a way that deepens his pulse and heats his lines. “It’sinteresting...” she says, glancing at the violet orb above. “The moon’s draw toward focusing on love.” She casts him a knowing smile. “I think being here in the East...where it’s so free...it’s making us both ridiculously bold.”

“I don’t need a moon or a change in place to be drawn to you,” he huskily states, then sets down his glass and gives in fully to the Xishlon moon, taking her into his arms, both of them laughing as they pull each other inside.

Thierren pushes the balcony doors shut, the pulsing outdoor music only amplifying this combustive moment between them. Sparrow reaches up to caress his cheek, and Thierren’s desire for her ignites like wildfire. They draw each other into an embrace, their lips hungrily claiming each other with none of the politeness of their tavern kiss, the two of them lit by the lavender glow of a single Xishlon lamp covered in moon and star cutouts, a violet-bright constellation cast over them both.

“Il’nyylia iv’riel fhir’lion nur...” Thierren murmurs in Uriskal as he presses a breathless kiss to the nape of Sparrow’s neck.My precious lavender flower. My love. My whole heart...

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