Music filled the space around us, the slivers of air between us. Strings sang, long and warm as gold. Flutes sounded like silver, and clarinets like forests.
This almost wasn’t real. It was almost a dream when I tilted my head back again; his mouth lingered just over my skin, and I managed a slight nod. His hesitation lasted a lifetime, but finally his lips brushed the tip of my ear.
I shivered deeper into his embrace, pressed my hands over his so he wouldn’t let me go. I’d waited my entire life for this.
Eternities passed between kisses down my neck. His free hand traced patterns on my hip and thigh and back up, around my wing. He touched my face and hair, restraint evident in the way he trembled and tried again.
A waltz began. His breath caught as he took my hand, spun me away, and then drew me back so we faced each other.
His mask covered the upper half of his face. Not a hawk or falcon, in spite of the hooked beak; the markings weren’t right. Dashes of black under his eyes, gray hood and feathers, and a white ruffle at his throat. The shrike.
He didn’t give me a chance to study him further, just drew me close so I leaned against him. His arms circled my waist, careful beneath my wings. As we danced, his heart pounded over the music. I could feel the tension in his arms and chest, trying to hold me, trying not to break me. I wanted to say something, reassure him that I trusted him, but if I spoke, the moment might shatter.
He felt good. Familiar. My body knew where his hands would slide before he moved, and where we’d breathe together. He knew the music as well as I did, anticipating the strong beats, letting the others linger.
Shrikes were songbirds; he ought to know.
We danced forever, and not nearly long enough. Now that I faced him, I could touch him, too, rather than self-consciously drip through his fingers. I explored his back, fingertips discovering ridges of his spine, muscles, a place below his left shoulder blade that made him writhe, as if struggling not to laugh. I tickled him again, devouring the sensation of his chest against mine.
When the song ended, he drew back and angled behind me as we looked up at the stairs. There, a sparrow and a lizard—not the lizard who’d trapped me—navigated the arches, hand in hand. One tugged, the other followed. Through the pine, flowers, obsidian, silver, stone— The couple made it through every archway, even with the silken blindfolds over their masks. Gold cloth streamed behind them like banners.
They’d really done it. Whether because one knew the route, or their true love drew them down the correct path, maybe it didn’t matter. They did love each other.
Framed by the columns of the Councilhouse facade, the sparrow and lizard embraced, kissed, and tore off their masks and blindfolds. Everyone cheered as the masks went flying into the crowd; Sarit would have explained that to me, but she wasn’t here.
Meuric stepped up to the microphone again and began another speech. Ugh. Meuric. No thanks.
I turned back to the shrike, but the beak of his mask grazed up my neck and warm lips brushed my ear. Thrills coursed through me, but I didn’t move until he started away. I caught his hand. “Wait.”
He’d felt right. I knew who I needed him to be, even if the way we’d danced was not how— That kind of passion he reserved for music. Not me.
A cold breeze made me shiver as I tightened my grip on his. Stepped closer. Searched his eyes.
His lips tilted up at one corner, like amusement. I’d known, but still, the familiar expression stunned me so much I almost didn’t act.
I kissed him.
Rather, I pressed my mouth against his and hoped he wouldn’t run. It would probably kill me.
Three long seconds and he only gasped and tightened his hands on my back. Then, with a soft moan, he opened his mouth and kissed me. It wasn’t an easy, sweet kiss like I’d imagined my first would be, but frustrated and hungry. That was good, better than easy and sweet, because after everything, I was frustrated and hungry for him, too.
His beak scraped my cheek, but I ignored it while the tip of his tongue danced over my lips. Everything he did was magic, but when he deepened the kiss and the moaning came from me, I held my palms over his mask and nudged until it slipped off and dangled around my wrist. I needed Sam, not the shrike.
He jerked back, surprise and embarrassment flickering across his face. I licked my lips and pretended like my cheeks weren’t hot, my insides weren’t melting, and I didn’t want everything his kiss had promised. “Hi.” Hand shaking, I held out his mask.
He didn’t take it. “You knew.”
“I’ll always know.” My entire body was still on fire from his touch, from his legs brushing mine, from his mouth. I wanted him to kiss me again.
Meuric’s speech must have stopped. Around us, others were removing their masks, greeting one another. They didn’t pay attention to us.