long column of his throat so enticing she wanted to kiss him there.
As if sensing her desire, he lowered his face, smiling at her. “I thought you didn’t need to concentrate,” he said with silky satisfaction. His gaze trailed lower, and she realized her breasts were still exposed.
With a groan of frustrated exasperation, she wriggled free of him and adjusted her gown.
“Do you need help?” Rhy asked, widening his eyes in innocence when she glared at him.
“I thought we said one kiss,” she hissed at him.
“Not to be pedantic,” he replied smoothly, “but it was one, very long kiss. And you didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”
No, because she’d lost her head, as she always had with him. She gazed back at him helplessly. “Rhyian, I…”
The guard hut door burst open, and a cascade of festively dressed people poured through, light and laughter flowing with them. Everywhere on the battlements, torches blazed, showing rivers of people taking their places. The three queens, Andromeda at the lead, glided in their direction. Maybe Lena imagined Andi’s keen attention on them, but she tugged her hand free of Rhyian’s anyway.
“Later,” she said. “It’s showtime.”
“All of tonight,” he insisted, oddly serious.
“Until dawn,” she promised, feeling reckless. She’d likely regret this, but for now she couldn’t seem to think about the future.
“Until dawn, at least,” he agreed, snagging her hand to kiss it before stepping aside.
“Lena,” Queen Andromeda said, opening her arms. “It’s been so long.”
“Too long,” she agreed, embracing her with fervent delight. She’d let her estrangement with Rhyian keep her away from too many people she loved.
Andi released her, gazing on her fondly, then glanced at Rhyian behind her, giving him a warm smile. “It’s so good to see all of you together tonight. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Lena agreed. “I’ll follow your cues.”
~ 11 ~
Rhy’s mother stepped to the edge of the parapet, magic tossing her hair, though the warm bubble of air Salena had created for them silenced the natural winds. He drew Salena back against him, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Shouldn’t you be up there?” he asked in her ear, letting his lips brush the delicious curves. Having Salena quivering in his arms again, so sweetly lush and shimmering with unleashed power, had been almost more than he could bear, and now he couldn’t stop touching her.
“I’m fine here,” she replied, sounding breathless. “This is Queen Andromeda’s show. I’m just the backstage help.”
He chuckled at that. “I think you—”
“Shh. Watch. Last chance to release any of the old.”
Rhy didn’t want to think about the past anymore. This was now, and this was good. Dawn would come all too soon.
“If you have anything left to burn, do it now.” His mother’s velvet voice, thrumming with the presence of the goddess and magically amplified, spread over the battlements like a mist. Salena pulled out of his arms, dug something from her pocket, and took it to a moonflower-patterned basin set on the parapet nearby. Pausing a moment, her profile illuminated by the crackling flames, she looked to be praying, though his old Salena had never had much patience for “superstition,” as she called it. She tossed the paper in the fire, then turned around resolutely, returning to him and—to his intense pleasure and satisfaction—once more leaned against him. When he slipped his arms around her waist, she sighed, sounding content.
All around on the brilliantly lit battlements, people were doing the same, hurrying to burn their last-minute regrets.
“I am Moranu,” his mother’s voice rang out, the bell-like tones dense as the goddess channeled Her words. The presence of the numinous prickled at his skin, the many-faced goddess of shadows casting her cloak over them all. “And I give you the night.”
At once, every flame went out. Even in the township below, every light was extinguished in the same moment by his mother’s sorcery. As if their very selves had been stilled at the same instant, everyone went silent. No strains of music. Not even the sough of the wind broke the silence inside Salena’s circle of magic. Above them, the sky grew black and brilliant with stars as full darkness descended.
A bell began tolling the hour of midnight.
Heavy and sonorous, it rang in slow measures. Rhy found himself counting along, surprising himself that he cared. Suspended in the blackest night, though, it seemed entirely possible to the frightened animal part of himself that the light might never come again.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
The last note rang out and held, rolling and building, a wave crashing