"Sure," I replied to Danne, that sounded like a lovely idea. Spinning away, I picked up my messenger bag I'd left by the wooden bench. Earlier, I had filled it with snacks and water, my Kindle, and a blanket, thinking that after I'd burned out the dark power residing within me, I'd spend some time by the deep well of water inside the woodland and bask in the sun like a reptile.

Today, like other mornings, I left the door to my mother's aviary slightly open, hoping the birds would fly free. But I knew they wouldn't. They'd been trapped in there for so long that it just didn't occur to them.

Danne and I drifted from the aviary, strolling casually toward the mayhem of construction currently taking place. I kicked my legs out as I walked, delighting in the manicured lawn and the spring of the grass beneath my bare feet. Danne kept chatting and I let him as we made our way in a direction more in line with the cluster of containers than the small group of people—my family and the Pelans—gathered in a loose knot watching the marquee rising.

Graysen stalked across the lawn. As yet, he hadn't noticed us. He was still wearing the same clothes from early this morning—dark jeans and heavy boots—though he'd changed into a new t-shirt which was tight enough to reveal the muscular chest and the tattoos stark against the golden hue of his skin. He carried a lethal casualness about him completely at odds with the sleek, polished Pelans and Wychthorns.

Gods, the guy was magnificent—

Stop it right there!

"How's the Lord of Darkness been?" There was a bitter note to Danne's tone. He ran his hand through his preppy hair as he cast a scowl toward Graysen.

I frowned, what was it between them?

"He's..." How to describe Graysen? If Danne had asked me yesterday. I might have said an arrogant prick and he still was, but as I tried to formulate an answer my gaze drifted over to an opening within the tree line and the flagstone path that led to the sinister prison.

He kept me company at the tithe prison.

He could have left me there alone, but he'd stayed and carried me back to my rooms.

I'd been half-aware when he'd picked me up and held me in his lap, his indelible scent perfuming my dreams. And my subconscious mind allowed me to do what my conscious mind would not—just sink in, let go, and let him hold me. Safe. That's what it had felt like, his warmth and arms caging me. Not bars of metal, but flesh. I'd not been a bird trapped in an aviary. A girl in an estate. I'd been protected, but those arms could open up and let me fly.

Graysen Crowther wasn't as cold-hearted as he made out.

My fingers worked my hair, braiding and un-braiding my locks, my brow creasing in thought. "He's—"

But Danne didn't let me answer, instead he overrode me. "Gods, that guy is an asshole. I don't know how you can stand to be around him."

The vehemence in his words startled me. My brows drew together in a curious line. "Why don't you like him?"

He was still glaring at Graysen when he said, "He doesn't know his place. He's from a Lower House and he still lords over the rest of us."

For some reason that rankled. Not so much the frank assessment of Graysen, because Danne was right about that. He was an asshole. However, I didn't like the comment about Lower Houses, as if Danne thought of himself above them all.

But then, wasn't I placed higher than everyone else? I was a Wychthorn from the Great House. I bowed to none.

And the creature in me stirred, a slithering motion like dry scales against my bones as if it didn't like what Danne had just revealed.

He stopped walking, turning to me fully. The scowl twisting his soft features made him look more like Corné. I didn't like that look on him, so I glanced away to my fingers wrapped around the shoulder strap of my bag. "He almost broke my jaw last year."

My eyes went wide as I swung back to gape at him in surprise. "You got into a fight with Graysen?"

He gave a casual shrug of one shoulder but there was tension crackling from him. "I got in a few punches. He got in more."

I didn't even need the creature twitching nor the odd sensation swirling deep inside that sang what he said was wrong. I knew it. There was no way that Danne would even get close enough to even lay a finger on Graysen. If Graysen wanted to break Danne's jaw, he would have. I knew what Graysen was capable of—you were either dead or he let you live.

I cocked my head to the side, still not quite comprehending it. I hadn't known this had happened between them. "Why were you two fighting?"

Instead, Danne ignored my question and reached out to take my hand, a smile dancing on his full lips.

He took my hand!

He'd never touched me like that before. I was too startled to do anything about it—tug it free or twine my fingers through his. I just stared in disbelief at his fingers looped around mine.

What did that mean?

Did he like me in that way?

Did I?

Except as I checked my body's reaction to the touch of his warm hand, it was nice, comforting. But it didn't spark anything in me like Graysen's mere presence did.

Godsdammit.

Excitement and mischief sparked in Danne's hazel eyes. "Why don't we piss him off by sneaking out of here?" He wagged his eyebrows. "I'll take you to Ascendria. We'll find some places to call our own. Think just how mad he'll be when he finds out you're with me."

That sounded far too tempting and I almost shot back—Yes!

"Come on, let's get out of here." He started moving us toward the containers.

But I dug in my heels, trying to free my hand from his firm grip. "I can't. Really Danne, I'd love to, but my father wouldn't allow it."

He leaned close. I could smell his faint aftershave. It smelled like him—nice. "Sure he would. You'd be with me. We'll have my bodyguards."

I worried my bottom lip, staring over at the gathering beside the marquee, where my father spoke with Aldert Pelan, both of them positioned slightly apart from everyone else, both of them, serious. Perhaps they were discussing the attack on our empire and the outcome of the meeting they'd held with Master Sirro that I'd barged into. And if I'd been right, whoever was behind it couldn't be living if they'd swifted in.

Glancing back at Danne, he stood still, holding my hand as he waited patiently for an answer.

Would my father let me? I mean it was Danne Pelan. We were practically family.

In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a man with blond hair and the brightest blue eyes I'd ever seen, unloading a container near us. He carried a stack of elegantly carved chairs. I don't know why he drew my attention. Perhaps because his hair was as pale as mine. He glanced up as he lowered the chairs to the grass, catching me staring, and a smile slowly curved his mouth.

When Danne said, "Better yet, we won't tell him," my gaze snapped back his way. He winked. "We'll just sneak out of here. Come on, princess, let's live a little dangerously." Lurching forward, he tugged me toward the same container the blond-headed man had disappeared inside, the sound of shifting boxes and the feet of wooden chairs scraping against the floor floated from within it.

However, a goofy smile lit my mouth—one I couldn't shake, one I didn't want to shake. Princess—that was new. Danne had given me a nickname. And I knew I'd be wearing that goofy smile for hours to come.

My gaze flicked over to my father. There was a hard line to his shoulders and a stern expression on his face. With a sinking feeling I knew if I asked him for permission, he'd never let me go, not even with Danne Pelan and a vanguard of security.

But...I could sneak away. Isn't that what I'd always wanted, a day of freedom to investigate Ascendria? I could sink into all the buzz and energy and hope the citizens brought with them to the city. Danne might want to sip wine, listen to jazz, visit art galleries and museums, and show me all the usual touristy spots, but I wanted too-hot coffee, to eat folded pieces of pizza or dubious snacks from food stalls, or visit small pockets of greenery sewn into the pavement and along concrete walls. I wanted crazy and madness—buskers and mad indie art performances, hustlers selling knock-offs, bearded hipsters, and women with lavender hair and piercings, maybe even go to a tattoo parlor and watch someone get inked. I wanted to fill my lungs with the dirty choking smell of carbon dioxide, and listen to car horns honking and the obscene yelling of rageful drivers.

I wanted Ascendria to filthy me up a bit.

I wanted to pretend I lived there in a shitty apartment, running from job to job, hustling for a wage.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

Danne wanted to sneak me out, maybe that was the only way to get a day of freedom.

It was there, my tongue curling back about to say—Yes.

"I'll take you to that little jazz club I told you about last night," Danne said eagerly. "You'll love it."

My stomach sunk—Oooer jazz, unlikely.

Danne's grip around my hand tightened harshly. He yanked me into the rabbit warren of containers, shielding us from our two families gathered around the mayhem of the marquee. Several things happened all at once.

I winced, yelping at the crunch of my knuckles under that too-hard hold.

Sage bristled and went to attack.

And that man with piercing blue eyes started walking toward us with a deep frown.

But someone else got there first.

"Let her go."

Danne slammed to a halt and the both of us swiveled to face the owner of the voice.

I knew who it was as soon as that damned bored-as-fuck tone flowed over me. Except there was something laced in Graysen's voice that definitely was not bored, but territorial. His furious gaze wasn't fixed on mine or even Danne's. He was staring at our linked hands. Those dark brows were drawn over black eyes which glittered with displeasure. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

For some reason, something fluttered in my stomach.

Jealousy? Was Graysen jealous?

Danne dropped my hand as if I'd just burned him.

Sage growled, this time not at Graysen, but at Danne.

"Sorry," Danne mumbled with a horrified apologetic look.

"It's okay," I replied, rubbing my aching knuckles. He'd only accidentally hurt me, overzealous with the idea of sticking it to Graysen by sneaking me out of the estate.

I focused on Graysen, who had fixed a black glare at Danne. His jaw was clenched tight with ire. Tension didn't just vibrate through him, it burned every inch of him. This was a cocktail of dark rage and relief and worry. Angry he had found me with Danne, relieved he had, and worried...for me.

It startled me. Graysen Crowther was worried.

"She's going nowhere," Graysen shot at Danne. "Besides, Wychthorn doesn't like jazz."

I shriveled up a little on the inside and heat scorched my cheeks; torn between embarrassment and utter outrage that Graysen would illuminate my silly lie this way.

Gritting my teeth, I flung back at him. "I do like jazz." Why the hells was I lying? It was discordant, jazz. Maybe because it was too much like me, the strangeness I was. I worked too damn hard in my life keeping everything hidden, smoothing my frayed odd edges. A puzzle piece in a box, a bit of blue sky, only to discover I just didn't fit anywhere.

When Graysen's gaze snapped back to me there was a delighted challenge in those eyes. "Liar," he purred with a teasing smile.

"I could—" Why was I so adamant about forcing this with him?

He took a long step forward so we were flush with one another, forcing Danne to back away. "I've never heard you listening to jazz." There were occasions when we were together I'd put in my earbuds and listen to music while reading. Using it to block out the oppressive silence and to ignore his presence. "You prefer something with a dirty rolling beat."

And those words the way he said them, gave it quite a different meaning. A little obscene. A little carnal.

Danne's gaze rounded to me trying to figure out if it meant as it had come across. While he was looking at me, I was gaping at Graysen and he was mouthing to me—You wanted that kiss.

I blinked. That infuriating godsdamn prick—this was about this morning! About the kiss he wanted so much. This was how he was going to pay me back.

Danne dropped his gaze to his feet, scratching the back of his head, and I used the opportunity to mouth back—Burn in hells, Crowther!

He lit up with glee—Yeah, thought so—and winked.

I jutted out my lower lip, toying with my adamere bracelet, just so he wouldn't see that he was right. I had wanted to kiss him. But part of me had whispered insidiously at the time—You don't know how to kiss. I'd been frozen when his tongue coated with chili had plunged into mine. I hadn't kissed him back. I'd merely opened up and let him dominate me.

And I wasn't sure of him. Why did he want to kiss me so much? I was a game to him. Someone he wanted to break. And he could. He had the ability to shatter me into shards.

It was dangerous to give him what he wanted. A kiss.

And with the memory of his lips moving over mine arising once more, the kiss echoed right through me and had my toes curling into the grass.

Hells.

Biting back a breathless moan, I reminded myself, it would be even more humiliating if he didn't like my kiss and laughed at me, pushing me away and telling me I was nothing special. So it was much easier to grab hold of fire and anger and push him away instead.

I shifted uncomfortably, readjusting the messenger's strap across my shoulder. Sage placed his bulk between myself and Danne.

"Graysen—" Danne began.

"Don't," Graysen finally acknowledged Danne's presence, rounding on him with a fierce glower, "you fucking dare think you can be so familiar with me, Pelan."

In the corner of my eye, I saw Danne flinch. "Crowther."

Graysen's mouth curved up on one side—Better. And then every tense line in his body relaxed. He twisted around to lean a shoulder against the container, crowding his tall figure right next to mine, a smug smirk on his mouth. His gaze dragged over Danne with an expression on his handsome face that said he found the other man lacking in every single way. "You know, Pelan, I'd have thought since the last time we met you'd have learned to keep your distance from anyone belonging to me."