Page 64 of To Dance with Death

The second, however, is locked.

My attempts to pry it open, to pick it with a nearby pin, prove fruitless, what with my tremor-racked hands, so I abandon the idea and move to the rest of the room. The closet is like a treasure trove, laden with robes and silk tunics, velvet-lined shelves displaying gemstone rings, hammered torques and armbands, and everything else he decorates himself with. The space smells of citrus and spice, so like him my knees sway, begging to fold beneath me. I examinethe dresser next, running my hands inside each drawer and finding nothing save for more finery—silk and linen pants, undershirts, and briefs. But the blot of stars in my vision forces me to pause and rest.

Only after my heart eases its relentless pounding do I set out to explore the remaining floor. Hope dwindles soon after, however, when half the doors are locked, and the rest are either guest rooms or spaces meant for entertainment.

Dizziness returns swiftly, coiling around me in a disorienting rush, to the point that I can barely orchestrate my next steps. If I weren’t so tired, I swear I’d move my things to a different room—at theoppositeend of the floor—just to spite him. In fact, I am determined to do exactly that once I recover. But as fate would have it, I can’t even muster up the strength to return to it, so I park myself on a nearby chaise to rest for a few moments…

I wake to the rustle of pages and the swish of liquid in a glass.

My eyes squint open, confusion spinning my head into circles. There is only the glow from the moonless, azure sky, and the soft flicker of a small candelabra to my right.

“Shall I lend you a cravat to wipe up all that drool?”

My gaze swings to the left, where Anton sits in a lazy sprawl across the couch next to me, one leg propped on a knee. He tucks the book he was reading into his robe and sets down his glass, his lips curled into an amused grin. “You must have been dreaming of something rather delicious. I do hope it was me.”

A flush suffuses my cheeks. I had fallen asleep, I realize, and in a rather awkward position at that—my head half askew on a pillow, one arm dangling off the chaise. Straightening, I swipe a line of drool from my chin. “How long have you been there?”

It’s still nighttime, by the look of it. Ishu is asleep at his feet.

“An hour or so.”

He says it like it’s nothing.

“What in the Fates possessed you to wait here? You could have gone to sleep.”

His brows smooth at that. “I don’t sleep. At least, not very much.”

I know what it’s like to feel lonely and stifled by the dark,he had told me once. But I study him, if only for a moment. He looks slightly disheveled—likely from the revelry, but maybe even from our dance. His hair is loose now, waving around his face. But his eyes, even glinting and crinkling as they are, seem heavy. Burdened in a way I didn’t notice before.

We all have our comforts, Minnow. I wonder if you might be mine.

“You moved my things into a bedroom that connects with yours,” I say.

He shrugs. “Maybe I think you a miscreant and prefer to keep you under my watchful eye.”

I rub my arm against the slight chill. “I am not a miscreant.”

“We’ll see.”

“And I’m not stubborn.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“I—” I bite my tongue. No sense in arguing with him. Instead I slip my hands under my thighs. “If you brought me here in the hopes of eventually tempting me into your bed…”

He holds up a hand. “I will respect your wishes. As I promised, I will not lay a hand on you,” he says. Then adds, “Unless you invite it.”

“Then why?” I ask. “Why all of this if you get nothing out of it?” I just…I need to understand. Or maybe I want to force him to put voice to it.

He takes a second, then two, grabbing his glass and tilting it to his lips.

“I told myself I would not entertain a friendship again,” he says after a moment, his gaze fixed on the window ahead. “I made that mistake before, clearly, with those who betrayed me. But I suppose I miss the company of a mortal. Or perhaps it’s because you remind me of home.” His half grin returns. “Or maybe I simply find youinteresting, even if I can only enjoy you at a distance…” He laughs, just a little, before glancing back at me. “I don’t know what that makes us.”

“Tolerable acquaintances?” I offer.

“Something like that,” he says. “I must be a glutton for punishment, considering you are probably thelastperson I should be around.”

“Because of the company I kept,” I surmise. Gustav, Sadira, Basile, and all the rest.