blocking the air to my lungs, panic crawling under my skin. The party around me grew hazy and distant. I had to get out of here. Every word they spoke about my impending fate crawled up my throat. The need to scream, to smash my goblet onto the ground, had me clutching my glass harder.
“Excuse me.” I bowed my knees, turning before anyone could stop me, and hauled my ass toward the doors. Once out of sight, my walk evolved into a jog out of the room and down the passage.
Run. The demand shrieked at me over and over.
Tearing off my shoes, I chucked the heels down a hall as I ran up the stairs, my bare feet padding over the rugs, going higher and higher until the carpet became stone. Clutching my dress, I felt like a version of a fairy tale I read about as a child, but instead of running away from the prince at midnight, I was running to him.
I was far past where any visitor was allowed, and everything here was unadorned and basic, the opulence saved for the guests far below. My thighs burned as I pushed them up more and more stairs, my body automatically set on its course, knowing the route by heart. Very few knew of this spot or cared to go there.
A gust of wind pummeled me as I shoved open the door. I stumbled back, goosebumps exploding over my skin. This high up, the chilly wind channeling off the river whipped around, tangling my hair into knots and burning inside my lungs.
Walking farther out into the night, the catwalk trailed along the burnt-red roof, weaving through the dramatic spires. My feet padded away from the massive dome, the room I just left, the festivities far below, filled with smiles and laughter, their lives not destroyed under the sparkling chandeliers.
Lights glowed from the bridges and the fae palace across the river, the Danube glistening, resembling the stars in the sky. Up here, everything felt possible. Problems were far away. It was beautiful. Peaceful.
As children, Caden and I used the roof as our playground. The older we got, we still found ourselves up here often, either sneaking a bottle of palinka or imported vodka from Istvan’s private collection, needing a place to let go of the demands and strains of life. Here we had no responsibilities or pressures. We could just be. I came a lot when my father died.
Rolling my hair into a knot, strands still whipped at my face as I strolled down the walk, my toes protesting at the freezing metal.
My heart fluttered, seeing what I hoped would be here.
A dark silhouette sat, legs dangling through the bars over a death drop. A bottle went to his lips, and he slammed back a gulp.
Silently, I strolled up to him, tucking up my dress so I could sit next to him and thread my legs through the bars. I gazed out at the breathtaking view, inhaling a deep breath. This was my favorite spot in the whole place. It made me feel life could be happy. Free. That both sides could find harmony.
Staring at the fae side, the beauty of the architecture across the water was breathtaking. For one moment, I could imagine this city being one. Freedom to go anywhere. No sides. No us versus them. A life where Caden and I could have a picnic in the park and walk hand in hand, laughing and loving.
“You found me,” he muttered, handing me the bottle of palinka, the potency from the fruit-fermented brandy burning my nose from here. Growing up on this stuff had our tolerance for alcohol at unbelievable levels.
“I knew you’d be here.” I took a swig, the alcohol sizzling the back of my throat, warming my muscles.
“Really?” He took it back.
“It’s where we come when we want to fight the world.” I curled my arms over a rail, perching my chin on it. “Plus, I know you.”
“Yeah.” He huffed through his nose, procuring another drink. “I guess you do. The only one who really does.”
I looked over at him. He kept his gaze out, not meeting my eyes. He swallowed, letting silence fall between us, anger thrumming under his skin.
“Caden…” I croaked over his name, scared to push him, but I needed to know.
He twisted his head away from me, slightly shaking it.
“Talk to me.”
“Why?” he snapped back to me. “We should probably start learning not to. You’ll soon be confiding in your husband.”