Page 157 of Fortress of Ambrose
“How are you doing this?” I ask.
“I’ve been feeding my toushana every night. Sometimes all day. For a very long time.”
His fingers are bruised. I kiss them. Then I hold his hand to my cheek, savoring the warmth of his confident embrace. The choice to love me burns in every second of his touch.
“Itoldyou feeding it would help.”
“I had to be sure there is no chance I can hurt you.” He says somethingelse, but I hardly hear him, lost in his green eyes. The color of growth, change, hope. I touch his lips, trying to remember precisely what they felt like the last time we kissed. They’re softer than I remember. He purses them in the gentlest peck against the pads of my fingers.
My mind whirs with questions. But the thrill on my skin from the dance, the feel of our bodies so close, the tight squeeze of his hand around mine, being this near the person I love, steals every word I was going to say.
“If I save all of magic,” he says, “but never live in the moment for myself, I will regret it.” He shakes his head. “Regret is not worth its high price. I want this time with you.”
Yes, and if I can’t have a moment like this, for myself, am I really free?
His mouth touches mine again. His lips spread, opening me up to his kiss. A fire blossoms inside me. The feel of his tongue slipping inside my mouth, exploring, licking, tasting, sends a rush of heat all over my body. And a pang of love in my heart.
“Tell me I’m yours,” he whispers, nipping at my ear.
“You’re mine. All mine. And I’m yours.”
He devours my mouth with a kiss that grows hungrier. The heat rushing through my body pulses, and every part of my skin tingles. Somewhere, someone with a tray rushes out the door. He kisses me again until the dining room and the Chateau and magic and the Order all disappear. Until our breaths mesh in a harmony sweeter than any song we’ve ever danced to. His love is intoxicating and endless. He holds me so close to him I don’t know where he ends and I begin. His touch is gentle yet insistent, stretching each moment of tenderness into a yearning ache, to want more of him, to be closer to him, for this night to never end. He tends my heart like a garden, carefully ripping weeds from my soul. Then he buries me in his love until morning comes.
I wake inmy bed alone. The spot where Jordan slept is cold. There is a note and a single rose beside my pillow.Breakfast.I check the lockedmetal box with the real diadem Jordan recovered from the lab. Thankfully, it’s still there. I remove it, and hide it in the bottom of my closet. Then I relock the drawer.
That’s half of the magic in my possession.
Now for the other half.
I throw a dress over my head and get out the door. Jordan is at the breakfast table, looking bright-eyed, with a plate full of all kinds of food. Pancakes, pastries, stacks of bacon.
“Do you always eat so much?” I greet him with a long, slow kiss. “We still need to discuss things, by the way.” My stomach twists, dreading how he is going to take this.
“Ravenous. What can I say? Please eat.” He folds and unfolds a copy ofDebs Daily. His plate, I realize, has hardly been touched.
“How long have you been here?”
“Just arrived. Good timing.” He signals for a servant to get me a plate. With it comes a copy of theDaily. The front cover image makes my heart stop. A body tied to a balcony at Hartsboro. I blink, staring closer. But the dark hair and eyes are unmistakable.
“It’s Yani.”
Jordan sips his coffee. “Abby is concerned Dexler may not wake up. Her wounds were intended to be fatal.” He is wearing last night’s clothes under his morning robe.
I try to swallow but can’t.
He did this. Jordan snuck out last night and somehow did this?
He sentenced her to die without telling anyone. Without tellingme.
I can’t breathe.
Bile rises in my throat.
“Justice is not for the faint of heart, Quell.” He rises from the table. “The extraction of the toushana and forging of the rings is set for midnight.”
“Jordan, I know what Abby told you about the extraction procedure!”
“Then you understand time is of the essence.”
