him all along?”
?What do we do?? Gerrit asked.
Celka slammed the trailer door closed and threw the lock. “Ela, this is Gerrit. Gerrit, this is my cousin.” Irritation tightened her voice.
Ela gaped at her. “Your cousin?”
“He knows.”
“Does he know...?”
“That my father, Leosh, was Storm Guard? Yes.” She stressed her father’s name oddly. “Ela, what are you doing here?”
“Ma was just... you know what? It doesn’t matter.” Ela bounced on her toes. Her face was rounder than Celka’s, her hair lighter, but the family resemblance was clear. “I figured I’d interrupt you and Ctibor kissing, not you playing with a bozhk the regime is turning over all the rocks to find. Who are you, Gerrit?” The amused curiosity he loved in Celka brightened her cousin’s eyes—but that curiosity could get them all killed.
“I’m someone you need to forget you saw.” He stripped the threat from his voice, but made it a command.
Ela laughed. “Forget a handsome boy my sister’s keeping secret? Not likely.” She turned to Celka, grinning. “How have you been keeping him secret? And for weeks? This is sneaky, even for you.”
“He can turn invisible.”
“Yeah, right. Oh.” Ela turned appraising eyes on Gerrit. “You mean with magic? Did he help you get the... crate?”
Celka moved to Gerrit’s side, slipping the concealment imbuement, inactive, into his hand. She seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You have to swear to me, Ela, not a word about him—to anyone. Not even Grandfather.”
“Obviously. I don’t want the Tayemstvoy questioning me.” Ela’s serious demeanor melted away. “But answer me this. If you’re kissy-kissy with Ctibor, that means Gerrit’s free, right? Can I have him?” She winked at Gerrit.
Gerrit couldn’t let it go any longer. “Who’s Ctibor?”
“Nobody,” Celka said.
“The handsome sideshow knife thrower Celka’s always sneaking away with,” Ela said. “Well... when she’s not with you, I guess.”
Gerrit discovered his teeth grinding. He crossed his arms and glowered at Celka. “You have a boyfriend?”
“No, it’s... ugh, Ela. You are not helping.”
“What?” Ela feigned innocence. “Don’t tell me you’re playing with them both. Minx.” Smirking, she turned to Gerrit. “Celka thinks anyone who wears a uniform is evil, but you don’t look evil. And I suspect you’re sleeting hot in uniform.”
“All right, enough introductions.” Grabbing Ela’s arm, Celka dragged her toward the trailer door. “Out.”
“Killjoy.”
“Now.”
“Fine.” Ela winked around Celka’s shoulder. “You want friendlier company, come find me, all right? I can think of all sorts of things we could do while you’re... invisible.”
Celka practically shoved her cousin outside. She kicked the door closed and leaned her forehead on it.
“So,” Gerrit said, trying for calm. “Ctibor?”
“We haven’t kissed.”
“Not that it’s my business,” he said, for all that Celka would read the complete lie.
“Just... ignore Ela,” Celka said. “Family, right? They know how to needle you.”
He didn’t want to think about family. Pushing that away, however, left him imagining some illiterate pretty-boy pawing all over Celka. “Knife throwing’s useless, you know.”
“Are you jealous?” Celka asked.
“Is that what you want? You’re running around with some sideshow freak to make me jealous?”
“If I wanted to make you jealous, I would have told you about him myself,” Celka snapped like he was being an idiot. And he was, he knew that, yet he couldn’t let the issue drop. A mundane could never be worthy of her.
“How much is there to tell?” he asked. But he didn’t want know.
His life was unravelling, and he wouldn’t lose the one good thing in it. Catching Celka’s hips, he pushed her against the wall. She gasped, and he twined his hand through her hair and pressed his lips to hers. Fire burned through him, sparking like storm energy, but hotter.
She made a small sound in her throat and caught his face, returning the kiss. For a moment, nothing else existed.
Then she tore away. “This isn’t what you want.”
“Yes, it is.” He caught her again, kissed her again, hips pressing her hard against the wall. Her body felt so good against his, soft and warm, and imagining this kiss had been all that pulled him back from the swirling inevitability of storm-madness at his father’s hands.
But the taste of her lips wasn’t enough. He kissed her harder, fiercer, needing her—needing to escape.
She pushed him away, breath fast. “You said it was too dangerous. You said we couldn’t have this.”
“I don’t care.” Worrying about the future only made sense if you had one. When the regime found him, he could release his grip on true-life, let storm-madness take him. He wouldn’t let them use Celka to control him.
But when