Page 205 of Evermore

She must have felt my attention because she paused mid-sentence. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, though we both knew it was everything.

Later, when the meal was finished and our family had dispersed, we found ourselves in the garden. The air smelled like night-blooming jasmine, and stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet.

Paesha leaned against the stone balustrade, her face tilted up to catch the moonlight. “You were staring at me all through dinner.”

“Was I?” I moved to stand beside her, close enough that our shoulders touched.

“You know you were.” She bumped her hip against mine. “So distracting, Husband.”

“My deepest apologies for appreciating my wife’s beauty,” I replied dryly. “How terribly inconsiderate of me.”

She laughed, the sound still the most beautiful music I’d ever heard. “Flattery won’t get you out of cleaning the kitchen with Tuck tomorrow.”

“I’m not flattering you. I’m stating a fact.” I caught a lock of her hair between my fingers, tucking it behind her ear. “You’re beautiful. You always have been. But especially now, when you’re not running or hiding or fighting. When you’re simply Paesha.”

She turned to face me, her expression softening in the way it did only when we were alone. “And who exactly is that? Paesha the queen? Paesha the goddess? Paesha the immortal?”

“Paesha the thief,” I corrected, drawing her into my arms. “Who stole my quill, my teacup, and most significantly, my heart. Repeatedly. Across lifetimes.”

“So sentimental,” she murmured, though she leaned into me, her arms sliding around my waist. “What happened to the fearsome god who terrorized realms?”

“He met a dancer who showed him a better way to exist.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “And he’s been hopelessly devoted to her ever since.”

“Even when she moves his things just to watch him twitch?”

“Especially then.” I kissed her lightly, savoring the feel of her smile against my lips. “Though I will be reclaiming my quill.”

“Good luck finding it,” she whispered against my mouth. “I’ve hidden it very well this time.”

I pulled back and raised an eyebrow at her. “In the hollowed-out book on the third shelf of the east bookcase? The one you think I don’t know about?”

Her eyes widened. “How did you?—”

“I know all your hiding places, darling.” I traced the curve of her lower lip with my thumb. “Just as you know all of mine.”

“Not all of them,” she countered, recovering quickly. “You’re still secretive about some things.”

“Am I?”

She nodded, serious now. “You hid the teacup.”

Her teacup now, though I’d never formally relinquished ownership. After she’d stolen it from me, I’d stolen it back exactly once. Not to keep, but to modify. She knew where it was. Her power whispered that to her. But she’d never chased it. Instead, she’d trusted me, though it probably killed her to do so.

“I suppose I could show you. If you’re truly curious.”

Her eyes lit with interest. “Now?”

“If you wish.”

She stepped back, gesturing for me to lead the way. “After you, then. Since we’re pretending I have no idea where it is.”

I took her hand, guiding her back into the house and up the stairs to my study. Unlike most rooms in our home, this space remained meticulously organized, my last bastion of perfect order.

I crossed to the far wall, where a painting hung, a landscape of Etherium as it had once been, golden and glorious in its prime. Behind it was a small safe, its lock responding only to my touch.

“You’re lucky I haven’t broken into that yet, you know?”