Page 89 of A Fate Everlasting

Then, the Thread snapped tight, and he caught my mouth like he was starved for it. His hand cupped the back of my neck, the other gripping my waist like he needed the anchor, like he wasn’t sure this was real. At some point, my arms had found him. My hands threaded through his hair like it was second nature as I crashed against the mantle.

The Thread between us didn’t just pull, then. It ripped. Not apart, but inward. Into some place where my thoughts blurred with his, where I couldn’t tell whose ache belonged to who. I didn’t know if I’d reached for him, or if he’d reached for me, or if we’d always been moving toward this moment.

I wondered what he’d see if he peered into my mind now, because I couldn’t make sense ofanythingI was thinking. Idemanded more, lips parting as the kiss deepened. I didn’t know if I was trying to distract him, or myself.

Focus, Arabella.He was letting me closer. I wouldn’t let the cards slip away again. My hands brushed over his suit jacket as it hung heavy from his shoulders. I fumbled with it carefully as I slid it from his arms. He let me. Too caught up, or too tired to question.

But my knees nearly buckled from the pressure of the kiss, the heat that demanded more. He was in my head, and I didn’t want him out. This wasn’t all strategy anymore. It was something worse, my feelings more raw-edged than I wanted them to be. But he didn’t deserve my feelings. I was sure he had none of his own.

The jacket dropped to the floor, though his eyes remained trained on me. I was caught in a hunger I couldn’t name, one that felt more his than mine. If I pulled this off, it wouldn’t matter what he felt. Or what I did.

I pressed flush against him, the heat of the fire at my back as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs winding around his waist. My spine collided with the mantle again, the dull ache quickly swallowed in a gasp of warmth and want. There was something darkly addictive about the way went still beneath my touch, as if his power were mine to take. Though I had always felt him,knownhim, this was different.

A single rap broke the silence. We froze, and then, Dante lowered me. Some part of me fractured at the loss of his touch.

“Your father has arrived, your Royal Highness,” came a guard’s clipped voice beyond the door.

Dante cursed under his breath and stepped back, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry. I have to meet him.” He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

The second the door shut behind him, I dropped to my knees. My hands dove into the folds of the fallen coat, fumblingin the pocket. I turned the pockets inside out, each one coming up empty.Shit.

The cards weren’t on him. Which meant they were somewhere else in this room. Or worse—gone. I stood, scanning the space. Shelves, books, drawers. But it was the bed that caught my eye. The black sheets had shifted, just slightly, as if someone had lifted them not long ago.

I dropped low and fumbled beneath the bed, unable to see anything in the darkness. I grappled against the stone, finding nothing until my fingers grazed something smooth. Metal. Hidden. Footsteps sounded outside the door and I stilled, afraid to move.

But they quickly faded. I pulled out a small silver box, but it was locked. The footsteps thudded outside, louder this time.Shit, Shit, Shit. Saints, help me.I twisted the box in my hands, searching for a way in, a latch, a weakness.Anything. My thoughts were too loud.

Then I remembered the key.It had once opened Dante’s journal. Maybe, justmaybe, it opened more than one of his things. I fumbled in my skirt pocket, the metal cool against my fingers, and slid it into the lock. If he caught me now, it was over.

Click. The lid sprang open. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was the Arcana Deck. It didn’t glow likeThe Fool,just shimmered for a moment like the box had stifled it, the many eyes rolling toward me. My pulse matched it beat for beat.

I slipped the cards into my skirt pocket, re-locked the box, and shoved it back under the bed just as the footsteps reached the door. I had the deck.I had the deck.

But saints, my mind was a mess. Dante hadn’t just let me in, he’d made me want to stay. Were those feelings real? I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began. I didn’t feel triumph flooding my veins, just emptiness, an empty ache a little too closeto guilt.

It didn’t matter now. Feelings are always blurry, but choices are clean. And I’d just made one he never would.

42

This was hopeless. I had no plan, no clear path, and nowhere to go but forward. Unlike Dorian, I didn’t know Evermore’s hidden veins, the secret paths that wrapped around its bones. I was moving blind through the Sanctum, running on instinct, and worse, I was running out of time.

I really hadn’t thought this through. The stone corridor stretched endlessly before me, a labyrinth of twisting darkness. I pressed forward, deeper into the shadows.

The passage opened into the atrium, a vast, cavernous space lined with black marble columns and gilded archways. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, painted with dark frescoes that seemed to move. A trick of the light.Probably.

I heard footsteps but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

I flattened myself against the stone, lungs burning, willing the shadows to swallow me whole. The air here was thick with damp and ancient magic, cloying and suffocating like the Sanctum itself was waiting for me to fail.

I saw it out of the corner of my eye. A shadow bled into the hallway, curling around the corner. A figure emerged, hooded, moving soundlessly despite the weight of armor. I covered mymouth to stifle the breathing, waiting for them to turn, waiting for the glint of steel.

Then they passed. It was just another guard, and they weren’t looking for me.Not yet.

I bolted the moment they disappeared. The walls trembled as if the Sanctum could sense my treacherous intent, whispering, begging me to stop. There was no chance I would listen. The torches dimmed as though something unseen slithered between them, feeding off the energy I carried.

Then a hand shot out from the darkness, clamping over my mouth. I thrashed, reaching out for whatever had taken me.

“Arabella.”

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