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Of course.

“Hi Aimee,” Skye drawled, combing a hand through his hair. He didn’t bother hiding his annoyance as the woman in question peeked her head through the door.

“Sorry,” she said with false sweetness. “Am I interrupting something?”

She knew damn well that she was.

Taly clicked off the music. “Typically,” Skye said into the silence, “when you knock and nobody answers, that’s a sign that whoever’s inside wants to be left alone.”

Aimee smoothed a hand over her skirt. “If that’s how you feel, learn how to lock doors.”

“You must be here to finish losing,” Taly said with a smirk. Aimee’s hands curled into fists.

It was almost comforting how some things never changed—Taly glaring, Aimee glaring harder, and Skye stuck in the middle like a bone caught between two equally determined dogs.

“What happened here exactly?” He looked from one to the other. “More importantly, am I in danger?”

“Hard to say,” Taly replied, gaze sharp. “What do you think, Aimee?”

Aimee’s lips thinned. Then she drew herself up, chin high and eyes cool. “I just came here to tell you both that my uncle has called a family meeting. It’s mandatory. And happening right now.”

She turned to go. No parting shot. No sulking. No last-ditch attempt to flirt her way between them.

That was… new.

Then, just as she reached door: “Also, Talya, your trousers seem to have… markings. You might want to change before someone notices the enthusiasm.”

Ah. There it was.

Taly looked down. Her brow furrowed. “What the…”

She turned slightly—tugged at the fabric of her trousers, brushed at one side, then the other.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“…oh.”

There were several spots—smudged, damp, irregular. They trailed down her hip, clung near the waistband, pooled faintly at the seam of her thigh.

“Note to self: boys leave… residue. Good to know.”

With a shrug, she tugged at the waistband, already half out of them by the time she glanced over her shoulder.

Skye was still perched at the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands, watching her with open appreciation. The outline straining against his trousers made it very clear just how much he was enjoying the view.

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse you,” she said, retreating into the closet.

Skye only laughed, low and lazy. “Right. Now you’re shy.”

When it came to sex, Taly was new to pretty much everything. And she’d been nervous—first time and all that. Not that it had been necessary. Apparently, she was a natural. Skye was supposed to be some kind of lothario on the mainland, and she’d made him pop his cork without even trying. That had to be an achievement.

She was still giddy from the discovery of her newfound, apparently Shards-given sexual prowess as they hurried down the stairs to Ivain’s office. Inside it, a conversation was already underway.

“We’re not ready for this,” Ivain said as they slipped into the room. “No, Sarina. We’re not going.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Sarina sat across from Ivain at his desk. “The invitations have already been sent out. It will raise too many questions if we decline.”