I tracked down Pauline. “Have you seen him?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be here.” She tried to pull me away to watch the lighting of the floating candles in the plaza fountain, but I told her I’d catch up with her later.

I stood in the shadows outside of the apothecary and watched the hands of the zitarae player press and pluck, a mesmerizing dance in itself. I wished my mother had taught me how to use the instrument. I was about to walk closer when I felt a hand on my waist. He was here. Heat rushed through me, but when I turned, it wasn’t Rafe.

I sucked in a surprised breath. “Kaden.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” His eyes traveled over me. “You look radiant tonight.”

I looked down, embarrassed, guilt pinching me for being too generous with my attentions last night. I looked back at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

His head motioned toward the street where people were dancing. “The music’s playing,” he said.

“Yes. It just started.”

His damp blond locks were combed back, and the scent of soap was still fresh on his skin. He nodded again toward the music, awkwardly boyish, though there was nothing else boyish about him. “Can we dance?” he asked.

I hesitated, wishing they were playing a faster jig. I didn’t want to lead him on, but I couldn’t refuse a simple dance either. “Yes, of course,” I answered.

He took my hand and guided me to the space set aside in front of the musicians for dancing. One of his arms slid behind my back, and the other held my hand out to the side. I made sure our conversation was full, recounting the day’s games so we could maintain some distance, but when talk lulled only briefly, he tugged me closer. His touch was gentle but firm, his skin warm against mine.

“You’ve been kind to me, Lia,” he said. “I—” He paused for a long while, his lips slightly parted. He cleared his throat. “I’ve enjoyed my time here with you.”

His tone had turned strangely solemn, and I saw the same gravity in his eyes. I looked at him, confused at this sudden change in his demeanor.

“I’ve done little enough for you, Kaden, but you saved my life.”

He shook his head. “You managed to break free. I’m sure you’d have been just as capable with your knife.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not.”

“We’ll never know what might have been.” His fingers tightened on mine. “But we can’t dwell on the maybes.”

“No … I suppose we can’t.”

“We have to move on.”

Every word from him was weighted, as if he was thinking one thing but saying another. The unrest that had always lurked in his eyes doubled.

“You sound like you’re leaving,” I said.

“Soon. I have to return to my duties at home.”

“You never told me where home is.”

Lines deepened around his eyes. “Lia,” he said hoarsely. The music crawled, my heart thumped faster, and his hand slid lower on my back. Tenderness replaced the unrest, and his face dipped close to mine. “I wish—”

A hand came down on his shoulder surprising us both. Rafe’s hand.

“Don’t be piggish, man,” Rafe said cheerfully, but with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Give the other fellows a chance.”

Astonishment paraded across Kaden’s face as if Rafe had dropped from the sky. In an instant, his surprise was replaced with a scowl. He looked from Rafe to me, and I shrugged to show it was only polite to dance with everyone. He nodded and stepped aside.

Rafe slid his arm around me and explained he was late because the clothes he had laid out at the bathhouse had somehow gotten up and walked off by themselves. He’d finally had to make a mad dash to the barn loft with only a towel to cover him. He eventually found his clothes tossed in Otto’s stall. I suppressed a giggle, imagining him running to the loft draped only in a towel.

“Kaden?”

“Who else?”

Rafe pulled me closer, and his fingers gently strummed my spine. Hot splinters whirled in my stomach. We had only seconds together before the music changed to a fast jig. Soon we were pulled apart by the swift exchange of partners. The pace was brisk, and I found myself laughing, the lights twinkling and swirling past my view, more joining in, Pauline, Berdi, Gwyneth, priests, the farrier, little Simone holding her father’s hand, strangers I didn’t know, everyone singing, hooting, stepping into the center circle to show off a few fancy steps, the zitarae, fiola, and drum thrumming at our temples.

My face damp with the revelry, I finally had to catch my breath and step back to watch. It was a fast whirl of color and movement, Rafe dancing with Berdi, the seamstress, schoolgirls, Kaden taking Pauline’s hand, Gwyneth with the tanner, the miller, an endless circle of celebration and thanks. Yes, that’s what it was, thankfulness for this one moment, regardless of what the morrow might bring.

The words Rafe had spoken rang clear again. Some things last … the things that matter. The very words I had scoffed at only weeks ago now filled me with wonder. Tonight was one of those things that would last—what I was witnessing right now at this very moment—and I saw a time past, a time even before that, the Ancients dancing in this very street, breathless, feeling the same joy I was experiencing now. The temples, the wondrous bridges, the greatness may not last, but some things do. Nights like this. They go on and on, outlasting the moon, because they’re made of something else, something as quiet as a heartbeat and as sweeping as the wind. For me, tonight would last forever.

Rafe spotted me on the fringe of the crowd and slipped away too. We walked through the plaza that was flickering with floating candles, the music fading behind us, and we disappeared into the dark shadows of the forest beyond, where no one, not Kaden, Pauline, or anyone else could find us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I stretched in the bed, my legs sliding along the cool sheets and smiled again. I had half slept, half dreamed, and half relived every moment all night long—too many halves to fit into one night.

There was a bond between us I couldn’t name. A sadness, a regret, a falling short, a past. I saw the yearning in his eyes, not just for me but for something more, a peace, a wholeness, and I wanted to give it to him.

I was immersed again in his tenderness … his finger tracing a line down my shoulder, slipping my strap free so he could kiss my back, his lips barely brushing along my kavah, my whole body tingling at his touch, our lips meeting over and over again.

From the first day, Lia, I wanted this, wanted you.

Our fingers laced together, tumbling in a bed of leaves, my head resting on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, his hand stroking my hair.

I took a deep breath. I had to get some sleep, but I couldn’t stop reliving it. I hadn’t thought it could be this way. Ever. With anyone.

We had talked for hours. He loved fishing from a riverbank, but he rarely had the time. He hesitated when I asked about his parents, but then told me they had died when he was young. He had no one else, which explained why he had no schooling in the Holy Text. He had worked on a farm, mostly tending the horses and other livestock, but also helping with the fields. Yes, melons were one of the things they grew, just as I had imagined. He hated pigeon meat and was glad we left the dinner early yesterday. I shared my stories too, mostly about forays into the mountains or forests with my brothers, who remained unnamed. I was careful to leave royal details out. He was surprised to learn I had favored swordplay over stitchery, backroom card games over music lessons. He promised to challenge me to a game one day.

It was late when he walked me back. Pauline had left the lantern out for me. Our words just kept stringing on and on, always one more thing to say to keep us from parting, one more thing we needed to share. Finally I kissed him one last time and told him good night, but as I reached for the door handle, he stopped me.