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Then I take a deep breath and place my hand over Killian’s. And though there are too many layers to feel the actual beat of his heart, I can see it in every blink of his eyes, can feel it in the way his hand eagerly conforms against mine.

“Shiv,” he says. “Don’t do this if you don’t mean it. Don’t do this if you’re going to regret it later and blame it on wine or a Fade or end up angry with me. And please, definitely don’t do this if you’re only searching for a quick fix to heal your broken heart.”

“What exactly is it you think I’m going to do?” I ask.

“You’re going to kiss me,” he says, as though it’s an indisputable fact.

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It’s true what he says.

There is a part of me that’s thinking about kissing him.

But my heart is scorched, my mind is confused, and I’m well aware of what a mistake that would be.

Still, I play along when I say, “If that were true, then why do you propose I do it, if not because I’m in a Fade or drank too much wine?”

“If you do decide to kiss me,” Killian says, his voice thick. “It should be because you want this kiss as much as I do. Because you want to celebrate beauty and pleasure and life and spirit and adventure in a city gone so mad it’s turned its back on everything that makes life worth living—everything that reminds us that God is real, and good, and not searching for ways to damn us. We don’t need God for that—we humans do a fine job of it all on our own.”

“And if it’s a mistake? If we end up regretting the kiss?”

“That won’t happen for me.” His gaze glitters on mine. “I’ve wanted to kiss you, really, truly kiss you—not a Fade kiss, not a fake-it-to-avoid-getting-caught-by-palace-guards kiss, but a real kiss—a desperate-for-it sort of kiss—from the moment I met you. This is what keeps me up at night. As for your own regrets, I’m afraid I can’t comment on that. That’s for you to weigh the risk versus the benefit.”

As Killian’s words fade, I remember back to the first night I almost kissed Braxton. And then the second night, when the kiss finally happened, how I tipped onto my toes and kissed him under a star-filled sky with a wink of moon hanging high overhead.

A kiss so memorable, so meaningful, he took those very symbols and used them for the talisman that now hangs from my neck.

Only now I know we were built on a lie.

But is it possible to erase the sting of that lie by kissing this golden boy under that very same moon from a long-ago time?

Of course not.

It’s never as easy as that.

But I also know that if I don’t kiss Killian, if I don’t allow myself this one small indulgence, it’s the type of thing I’ll always wonder about.

What could have been?It’s the sort of thing that haunts people at the end.

So what’s the harm in finding out now, while I still have the chance?

There’s an ease in being with Killian. Unlike Braxton, he doesn’t feel like it’s his job to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But now I know it’s not really the weight of the world Braxton’s been carrying, but rather the weight of his lies.

I look at Killian again. His gaze is open, deep, and filled with unfiltered longing for me.

It’s just a kiss.

It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Besides, it’s not like I haven’t kissed him before—

And yet…

I can’t bring myself to do it.

Not now.