the golden olive wreaths from her clothes. He selected one of the wings and gathered the loose linen at her shoulder. She felt his knuckles brush her bare collar as he pinned the first wing, then the second, in place.
Damon’s hands lowered, but his eyes continued to admire her, the bronze wings flaring in the light.
“I think we are ready now,” he whispered with a smile.
And yet he did not move. And neither did she.
Not yet, her mind, her reason, was begging again. Not yet, not yet . . .
But her heart swallowed the warning whole, and Evadne lifted up on her toes. Her ankle throbbed, but she hardly felt it as she framed Damon’s face in her hands, as she raised herself closer to him. He did not move. For once, she had cast her own enchantment, and he was at her mercy.
She kissed him softly at first, a brush of butterfly wings against his lips. She breathed in the scent of his skin, emboldened, and kissed him again, deeper.
Still, he seemed unable to move, to respond. But then he drank her breath, he caught her fire. The air became amber, electric between them. His arms came around her and he pressed his palms to her back, bringing her against him, the last of the distance melting.
Her fingers lost themselves in his hair as she learned the secrets of his mouth, as he learned hers. Tentatively and then eagerly.
Time did not exist for them anymore. Nor did conniving aunts and stolen relics and an impending battle. They were entangled with each other, edging across the floor breath by breath, and his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on her neck and Evadne was warm and vibrant from the splendor they had sparked. And then she stepped into the desk, and Damon all but toppled onto her, his hand reaching out to catch himself. He overturned the jar of quills, the missive for his aunt falling to the floor.
His breath was heavy as he leaned his brow against Evadne’s. The bronze wings were skewed, a moment from slipping away from her shoulders, when Damon stepped back, distance blooming between them again.
She rolled her swollen lips together as she straightened her garments, as Damon bent to retrieve the missive.
Without a word, he walked to the window and summoned a nightingale. Damon whispered a spell, and the bird took the missive and flew, carrying it to wherever Selene presided in the city.
And then he turned to Evadne, hand outstretched.
It was time.
The Destry sat like a jewel in the afternoon sunlight. Damon and Evadne entered the solemn, dim lobby, their footsteps echoing.
At first, Evadne believed she and Damon were alone, standing among the divine columns. But then she caught a glimpse of light, and she turned to see Selene standing between the pillars of Magda and Ari. Her scribe was beside her, a tall man with arms cut with muscle, his head shaven, his eyes green as jade.
The All-Seeing Crown was in Selene’s hands.
“Hello, Damon,” she said, ignoring Evadne’s presence. “Do not be shy. You called this challenge. Come forward.”
Damon still held Evadne’s hand. Selene took note of this as they approached, coming to a gradual stop. A good portion of distance still remained between the two groups.
“I thought I taught you better, Damon,” Selene said, her voice cold.
“You have taught me many things, Aunt,” he replied. “Once you were a great mage. One I trusted and respected.”
“But no more, I take it?” Selene arched her brows. “All because you have chosen to side with your father’s illogical choices. He and Nerine will run the kingdom into the ground, Damon. It is time for people like us to rise and reclaim our status in this society.”
“I am sure the queen will have something to say about that, Selene. When she is finally free from your cloying enchantment.”
Selene smiled. The light gleamed on her teeth. “I suppose that depends if you can win back this crown. Because that was your plan from the beginning: to crown Nerine with Acantha’s relic, to break through my spell. I confess, your tenacity surprised me. But unfortunately for you . . . the crown is now mine.”
She lifted the crown, as if she was about to set it upon her head.
Evadne felt Damon’s grip tighten on her hand, and she heard his breath suspend. She knew they were doomed if Selene crowned herself. She would have the power to look into their past, their present.