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“You better watch out.” Remy tried to lighten the tone. “I won’t need much protecting after another few sessions with them.”

Hale gave her a half-grin. “I don’t doubt it. They are some of the most skilled fighters I know. Although . . .” He looked at the trees over her shoulder. “Seeing you tackle them into a pool is something I won’t be soon forgetting.”

A flush blanketed Remy’s skin. She had tackled them into a pool with her magic. Her hair was almost dry now and coiled tighter from the water of the reflection pool. A few perfect ringlets framed her face.

“So you accept my apology?” Hale said.

“There’s nothing to apologize for . . .” Remy said. Hale opened his mouth but Remy continued, “You saved me that day and if another day like that happens, though I hope it won’t, you have my permission to save me again.” She tried to add a lighthearted laugh, but it felt strained. “I’m sure you protect all your assets well.”

Hale recoiled, his mouth tightening, forehead crinkling.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He fiddled with the red string around his wrist. “Yes, I am grateful that we have found a red witch to help us. It would be impossible to acquire those talismans without you, but . . . your life means more to me than that.”

Remy turned those words around in her mind, picking them apart in different ways. Her life meant more to him than what? Than only being a useful tool in their quest for the High Mountain talismans? What did “more” mean? Remy did not know. Ugh, she thought, these bloody fae and their half-truth words.

She looked up at him. His hair fell across his forehead as he bent to look at her. Remy’s fingers twitched with the urge to brush it off his face. Nibbling her lip, she knew she wanted to find an excuse to touch him. When she was pretending to be his red witch, it was the closest to an honest feeling she had. He had caught her in this spider’s web. She did not know how to untangle herself from what was real and what was pretend.

Remy was sick of these cycling thoughts. She wanted to give herself over to the heady music and sweet fragrances and reckless abandon. Enough of wishing to do things and never doing them. She smoothed Hale’s hair off his forehead. That wavy, brown hair was as silky as she had hoped it would be. His ocean air scent mixed with jasmine and evening primrose.

“Your life means more to me too, Hale,” she said, her voice huskier than she intended.

Those dark pupils dilated. It was the first time she had ever called him by his name. The look on his face sent a quiver through her. She moved to take her hand out of his hair, but he reached up and held her hand on the side of his face.

Remy took a shallow breath. Hale’s eyes wandered to her large lips. He unthreaded their other hands and slowly traced his fingers up her arm, leaving bolts of lightning in the echoes of his touch. His hand smoothed up her shoulder and down her neck. His thumb braced her cheek right before her ear as his fingers curled around to the nape of her neck.

She wasn’t sure she was breathing. It only took the slightest pressure on those fingertips to pull her in. The scent of honey wine wafted off his breath. She was so ready for . . .

“Hale!” Bri’s shout came from behind the trees. “We’re heading to the bar. You coming?”

Hale growled, but he released Remy.

“Hale?” Carys shouted in a whining sing-song. “Come on. More wine. Let’s go.”

Remy laughed quietly.

“We should go,” she whispered.

Hale hung his head, resigned. When he lifted it again, that charming princely mask was back on his face. He extended his elbow to Remy again, and she took it. Walking back onto the main promenade, Remy’s whole body still tingled with that one soft touch. Hundreds of glowing lanterns illuminated the promenade, their flickering light dancing across the smooth surface of the reflection pool.

Bri and Carys sat perched on the ledge of the pool. They looked at them with knowing, wicked smiles. Carys winked at Remy. Remy narrowed her eyes back at her, but that only made the female fae smile wider. She wasn’t sure what they had thought had happened between them. Remy blamed it all on the magic of the night. She thought of Heather’s warning. The brown witch would go on a lecturing rampage if she had known what happened this night.

Remy sighed.

She was in so much trouble.

* * *

They had walked most of the way home over the course of the night, stopping in crowded pubs and music halls, drawing as many eyes to them as possible. It was strange being so openly watched. Remy had shied from it at first, but by the end of the night she welcomed the looks. The rush reminded her of when she and Fenrin would go sledding as children: the high speed, the blurring of her periphery, the absolute surrender to the sensations through her body. She had never felt so alive. She didn’t know why such revelry felt like an accomplishment, but as the evening wound down, she thought back on their escapades with a strange sort of pride.

The hours bled together until fires dwindled to nothing but embers. They stumbled back to the inn, the sky perking with fresh morning light. Sounds of the night still echoed through her body as they stepped into their quiet corner suite. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears at the sudden quiet. Happy, satisfied tiredness filled her body. A sore ring of red had worn its way onto the tops of her feet as they swelled from all the drinking and walking, chafed by the ribbons of her silver slippers. But Remy didn’t care. It was a soreness that felt like a victory, like after a hard morning’s training with Bri.

Hale kicked his soft leather boots off by the door and collapsed into a heap on the blue velvet sofa.

“You can use the bathing chamber first if you like,” he said, slinging his arm over his eyes. “I think I could fall asleep right this second.”

Remy looked between Hale and the gigantic bed. Maids had turned down the bed, the sheer, white gauzy curtains pulled around its edges. Four giant, plump white pillows rested against the wooden headboard. It looked more enticing than chocolate cake.

Remy looked back at Hale.