Violet asked, "What do you think we should do, Micah?"
Micahâs expression was thoughtful, his eyes half-lidded like he was weighing too many things at once. "For now," he said, "Iâll try looking into the presidential candidates and flagging down whoever Father is sponsoring. But knowing Angus, heâll be careful. He doesnât make mistakes unless his ego blinds him, and that day we met, I think it did. Good thing about confidence, it makes people slip."
He shifted, straightening his jacket as though signaling the conversation was over. "Thatâll be all for now. Iâll keep in touch. Should you ever need my help, donât hesitate to ask."
Almost immediately, the words tumbled out of Violetâs lips. "About that, I need your help with something."
Micahâs brows rose. "What is it?"
Her throat tightened, but she forced it out. "I donât think Alaric is safe. We plan to go rescue him tomorrow."
Micahâs sharp inhale told her he hadnât expected that. His gaze flicked toward the garden beyond, as though thinking over every possible consequence. "Escaping under Elijahâs nose is going to be difficult," he admitted. "But not impossible. What do you need from me?"
"I donât need you to do anything reckless," Violet said firmly. "The Cardinal heirs have leverage. Elijah wonât move too hard against them, theyâre his âheirs,â and saving face matters more to him than killing them. But you..." She met Micahâs eyes. "He has no reason to spare you. All I want is information. I just need to know how Alaricâs holding up. Surely youâve got contacts in the Northâ"
Then, trying to lighten the conversation, she added with a small grin, "Or maybe you can make a trip to hell and find out if someone from the North Pack died with news about him."
Micahâs lips quirked, the faintest smile tugging his features. "I have contacts in the North," he said evenly. Then, with a dryness that made Violet pause, he added, "And trips to hell arenât exactly fun."
The clipped edge in his tone hinted there was more behind those words than he wasnât willing to share. Violet sensed it, but she didnât push. They were only just beginning to trust one another; she wasnât going to ruin it with pressure.
To clear the air, she forced a small laugh. "I bet the rat epidemic is over by now. Iâll wait for your news, then."
"Sure." He replied casually.
"See you later, brother."
Violet didnât know what possessed her to call him that, but the word was already out before she could stop herself. Micah froze mid-step, clearly caught off guard. Then slowly, a huge grin broke across his handsome face.
"Brother, huh? Thatâs a dangerous promotion." His grin turned sly. "See you too, lilâ sis."
Violet rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her. She actually liked the sound of itâthough sheâd never admit that to his face.
And just like that, they stepped out of the dark glasshouse together, the faint hum of the party reaching their ears again. But when they reached the garden path, they split without a word, each of them headed in different directions.
Violet had braced herself for tension the moment she returned to the garden. She imagined walking into the scene of Elijahâs wrath bearing down on Roman after that reckless stunt earlier. Instead, what greeted her was laughter, glasses clinking, and couples spinning to the rhythm of live music.
Huh? Violet blinked, confused. Where was the punishment? Where was Elijahâs fury?
But her thoughts shattered with a scream.
Violet yelped as her feet left the ground and the world spun around her. Strong arms had hooked her waist, twirling her up like she weighed nothing. The Matebond thrummed, buzzing with recognition through her veins.
"Roman!" Violet shrieked, her voice half outrage, and half laughter, as her vision blurred with dizzy circles.
Roman only chuckled lightheartedly, his grin wide and infuriating. "You love it."
"Iâm going to kill you when my feet touch the ground!" she promised, though her laughter betrayed her threat.
Almost at once, Roman lowered her, setting her gently back on her heels. Violet stumbled, but his hands tightened around her waist, catching her before she could fall. Instinctively, her own arms looped around his neck, clinging to him, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths.
Her heart was pounding, not just from the spin but from him.
The corners of Romanâs eyes crinkled as he looked at her. His green eyes shone with such unguarded joy that Violet forgot about everything.
God help her. Roman didnât even realize it, but he lit up her whole world like no other.
The two of them were locked in a stare now, the air sizzling with raw tension. Violet couldnât even tell who moved first â all she knew was that their mouths crashed together halfway, and a deep, appreciative moan slipped from her lips as the bond exploded to life like fireworks under her skin.
Roman hauled her closer until she was pressed flush against him. The hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt flexed, powerful enough to crush her if he wanted but Violet didnât care. She wanted to be consumed.
Their mouths worked against each other with both hunger and sweetness, a push-and-pull that left her dizzy. Roman dragged her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling until it hurt, then smashed his mouth back down on hers in a fevered rhythm. Again and again.
Their hot and slick tongues tangled, tasting, sucking, and demanding more. Each time they shifted, their mouths angled differently â tilting, sliding, and finding new ways to deepen the kiss, as though trying to map every last inch of the other.
For those burning seconds, the rest of the world had long since faded into nothing. There was no garden, no guests, and certainly, no king. Only them.
Then the world crashed back with a roar of applause.
They broke apart, startled, and only then did Violet realize every guest was watching, clapping like theyâd just been entertained on stage. Heat flared across her cheeks, not from the kiss but from the crowdâs shameless approval.
"Gods," Violet muttered under her breath, "canât a girl get some privacy around here?"