Page 94 of Trick

Constellations bit into the sky. I sprinted, my arms pumping and my skirt whisking around my legs. I thought,Hurry. Make haste to the center, to that little girl I used to be, that child who waited.

Hurry. Find me.

He found me. I found him.

We swerved around the corners of parallel hedges. Our gazes slammed into each other, winded and breathless and a little bit ruined. We’d emerged on opposite sides of the labyrinth’s central water well.

Poet stared at me in a way that bordered on feral. His eyes glinted through the shadows, the shameless green darker than usual. That gaze pumped blood into my veins, so that I couldn’t look away.

From other lanes, we heard the females’ “Boo!” and Eliot’s yelp. I pictured him jumping a foot off the ground, spoiling those ladies with hysterics. Audibly, they jostled him in what sounded like good-natured fun.

My winsome heart relished his laugh, the sound unclogging my lungs.

Some type of immoral intent crossed like a shadow through Poet’s face. The visual sent an ambitious tremble down my spine. With cautious steps, we stalked around the well, which held thousands of fantasies—some innocent, some not.

We prowled and circuited the stones at a slow pace, waiting to see who would break first. It would be easy for me to volunteer. It would be easy to stop and wait for him, to allow this sinner to reach me, to let him hoist me onto the well, so that my legs spread around his waist and my skirt rucked to my hips. The prospect was so tempting, that it physically hurt.

Poet must have seen something cleave through my face, because he paused. From across the rim, he raised his brows in nefarious inquiry. It felt wrong to shake my head, but I did.

All the while, I gripped the ledge, to prevent myself from grabbing him. And all the while, his own fingers curled, nails digging into the stones until his veins rose.

“No kisses, no wishes,” he rhymed soberly.

“No winners, no losers,” I agreed in a whisper.

Posy trampled into the scene, pursued by Vale, then Eliot, then Cadence. Poet and I sacrificed our win and gave Posy the honors. At Vale’s encouragement, Posy grabbed Eliot’s face and fit her mouth to his. And after the shock drained from his face, my friend responded and met her lips with an enthusiasm that caused my jaw to drop.

As I watched, I felt a pair of eyes on me. They breached the distance like a physical touch, skimming over my profile until my flesh prickled.

Carefree but still devoted to males, Eliot relinquished Posy to Vale. The group tossed petals into the well, offering them in exchange for wishes.

“I’d fancy the luxury of growing old,” Eliot said. “And to compose a single perfect song that would be shared across the continent.”

“I want to know what snow feels like,” Vale confided. “I’d love to run through a forest caked in it, see my own puffs of breath, and curl up with a warm drink afterward.” Then she chortled at herself, compensating as though she was being too maudlin for a Spring native. “And I wouldn’t mind having the ability to climax more than twice in succession.”

“Poet?” Cadence volunteered. “Care to help my lady with her orgasm aspirations?”

The jester checked Eliot’s reaction, confirming my friend’s jovial mood before theatrically pretending to give the matter due thought. “By all means, if I were your friend’s type,” he replied smoothly. “Otherwise, your wish wouldn’t be limited to a mere number. For with me, you’d lose count of how often you came, sweeting.”

The ladies chuckled. Eliot shook his head in wry humor. Thankfully, their reception rang loudly enough to conceal the hitch in my breath, even as I feigned indifference to Poet’s degree of experience. And that Cadence knew so much about it.

As for the female, she wanted to see Summer’s ocean someday and find a lover with stamina there. “Ideally someone who prefers going down on me. And maybe …” Cadence hesitated as everyone grew quiet, listening. “Maybe it would be nice if he enjoyed holding my hand, too.” She shrugged flippantly. “I have standards. What about you, Posy?”

The female frowned into the well. “I want my pregnant sister to give birth to a normal child.”

Silence descended on the group. She could have said healthy. But like everyone in society, the lady worried about the possibility of conceiving a born soul.

Every vertebra in my spine went rigid. My eyes ticked over to Poet, whose relaxed face didn’t match the flash in his eyes.

“And you, sexy?” Cadence asked him. “Care to confess your deepest desire?”

I marveled that he was able to do it, to contain himself from debasing Posy. Myself, I bit my tongue so hard I expected it to bleed.

“Hmm. My deepest desire,” Poet repeated in a suave tone that I didn’t believe in the slightest. “Oh, but my wish is too sacred to share.”

I knew that wish. I’d met that child.

I wanted to confront what the ladies thought of born souls and whether these courtiers stood with the majority. But not tonight. As Poet had said, such conflicts required tact and pacing. And as a future sovereign, I understood this.

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