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“You could have used the gate,” I tell him.

His already pinkish skin stains darker up his cheeks and he scowls. “I knew that.”

I turn away. Just being so close, without a bar or a table between us, makes my ribs ache with something I can’t name. He could easily reach out and touch me.

I could do the same.

I crouch again to hide that I’m unsettled, scattering a handful of seeds across the rough gray roof. Boots land next to me. Ezra lowers himself to a matching seat, the chain on his jeans clinking. He rests his broad forearms on his knees, and I hold myself perfectly still so my wings don’t shoot out toward him.

“This okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say shortly. It’s not okay — I’m irked. This is my quiet spot. No one else at The Sanctum would dare intrude. The words burst free before I can stop them. “Why don’t you treat me like the others?”

Ezra snorts. “Like you’re made of glass?”

“Like I’m a prince.” I straighten, feeling my own face heat.

He hums in contemplation. “Cause in my world, there are no princes. I mean, not like,realprinces. There’s just people.”

My chest tightens. What would life be like in a world without princes? If I was just an ordinary monster?

“I was born a prince. I may not be very good at it, but it’s all I know.” I grip my knees. “People rely on me. I want to be worthy of them.”

Ezra folds his hands under his chin. The pigeons slowly return, picking at the seeds with the laziness of well-fed animals.

“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It’s my destiny.”

“I was pretty sure of my destiny once,” Ezra says. “It looked bleak, I have to tell you. I wouldn’t be here if I’d stuck to the script.”

“Are you glad?” I wonder.

He meets my eyes, his dark gaze frank. “Yes. I’m glad Syril took a chance. I’m glad I let myself be open to it. And, uh…” his mouth twitches into a faint grin. “I’m glad I came up to the roof and found you here.”

“You sent Plato with the drinks.” It spills off my tongue without my permission and I cringe.

Ezra’s grin turns to a warm laugh. He trails off and looks away with a wry smile. “I was being ridiculous.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Of you?” he asks. “God, no. Of myself, maybe.”

That doesn’t make any sense. I rock back on my heels, my thoughts churning.

“Are you afraid of me?” He cocks his brow.

My heart thunders and all my muscles draw tight at once.Am I?

“No,” I breathe.

His smile is back. Every fiber of my being wants to be closer to that smile. Iamafraid. I think. But not of him.

Oh.

“You don’t need to worry. I’ve decided to stop being ridiculous,” he says.

“Good.” I release my last handful of seed in a burst. Pigeons startle at the sudden movement.