Page 142 of The Gilded Cage

“I’ll help you cover for his absence tonight,” Caldon offered. “But if things don’t work out the way you want tomorrow, you’re going to have to make some tough decisions, Sunshine.”

Kiva blew out a breath and looked away. “I know.”

Caldon moved their joined hands to tip her chin up, meeting her gaze. “Speaking of tough decisions, I’m really proud of you for telling Zuleeka you’re done with them. That can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.” And yet Kiva recalled how understanding her sister had been, with no hint of anger, no sign of judgment. It was enough for her to wonder if maybe Zuleeka felt a little like Torell, at least deep down.

Or perhaps she simply realized that after a decade in prison, Kiva deserved to make her own choices.

Marveling at the thought, Kiva moved into one final spin as the music came to a close, and then, barely a second after they stopped, Jaren materialized at their sides, eliciting a huff of amusement from his cousin.

“It was touch and go,” Caldon said, his voice grave, “but she survived being parted from you for a whole seven minutes.”

Jaren ignored him and reached for Kiva, linking their hands and leading her off the dance floor.

“Don’t mind me!” Caldon called after them. “I’m fine by myself!”

At first, Kiva thought Jaren might have been taking her to his family, but a quick glance revealed he’d been successful in convincing them to leave. Mirryn hadn’t yet arrived, so they weren’t heading toward her, nor were they en route to the gilded refreshments table. Instead, Jaren was guiding her around masked men and women, many of whom called greetings, all of whom looked at Kiva in unabashed curiosity, and none of whom Jaren paused for, his attention wholly focused on their destination.

That being, to leave the ballroom.

“Where are we going?” Kiva asked as they stepped through the ornate doors into the hallway and then ascended the nearest red-carpeted staircase.

“Somewhere quiet.”

The two words had Kiva’s heart giving a leap, which turned into multiple leaps when she realized they were approaching the River Room.

The very empty River Room.

Situated directly above the ballroom, the music filtered through the walls, but there were no crowds of people, no prying eyes or lingering looks. The luminium chandelier cast a golden glow over the room, the candle-dotted Serin stretched out beyond the windows, the space nothing short of romantic, especially when, with a wave of Jaren’s hand, mist tickled at their ankles and floating specks of light burst into being, a perfect recreation of the ballroom — just smaller, more intimate. And for the two of them alone.

“I know it’s selfish,” Jaren said, leading Kiva toward the windows, “but I don’t want to share you with anyone else tonight.” The orchestra launched into another melody. “May I have this dance, Kiva?”

Her throat suddenly dry, she answered by stepping closer. He didn’t lead her into a waltz this time; instead, his arms encircled her waist, guiding her to sway gently in place, his eyes never leaving hers.

... Eyes that were full of emotion, revealing everything, hiding nothing, his heart laid bare.

Kiva’s pulse grew erratic.

“Do you remember that night in the garden?” he asked quietly.

Kiva swallowed. They’d only ever been in one garden together — her medical garden back in Zalindov. And they’d only ever been out there once at night, when Tipp had fallen ill. But before they’d found him —

“I wanted to kiss you that night,” Jaren murmured.

Kiva’s breath lodged somewhere in her chest.

Jaren leaned down, his lips by her ear as he whispered, “And I think you wanted to kiss me, too.”

A shiver traveled along Kiva’s spine. “A lot has happened since then,” she breathed, her voice different to her ears. Low, husky.

Jaren’s eyes darkened at the sound. “It has,” he agreed, one of his hands moving slowly, languidly, up her side and across her shoulder, before whispering up her neck to cup her face.

Flames ignited beneath Kiva’s skin at his touch, her stomach dipping, molten heat pooling in her core.

Gently, Jaren pulled off her mask, and a moment later, his own was gone. The full effect of his unconcealed expression — the desire, thelonging— made Kiva’s knees weak.

“A lot has happened,” Jaren repeated her words in a whisper, his thumb stroking her cheek. “A lot has changed.” He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. “But the one thing that hasn’t is how I feel about you.”

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