He pulls at my arm and I fall forward a bit. Or maybe I’m swooning—it’s not beneath me. (Snow is. Beneath me. Always. By at least three inches.) “How can you be like this?” I whisper. “How can you even trust me, after everything?”
“I’m not sure I do trust you,” he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) “But…” He shrugs.
He’s rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes—because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again.
Snow kissed me last night until my mouth was sore. He kissed me so much, I was worried I’d Turn him with all my saliva. He held himself up on all fours above me and made me reach up for his mouth—and I did. I would again. I’d cross every line for him.
I’m in love with him.
And he likes this better than fighting.
65
SIMON
If Penelope were here, I’d tell her she’s wrong about me. She thinks I solve everything with my sword. But apparently, I can also solve things with my mouth—because, so far, every time I lean into Baz, he shuts up and closes his eyes.
If Penelope were here, she’d make me explain myself.
Thank magic she isn’t here yet.
I’ve just pushed my fingers between Baz’s shirt buttons; his skin is room temperature.
Then someone clears her throat. Baz stands up straight, which means his mouth jerks away from mine. I step away so quickly, I’m not sure I didn’t teleport.
His maid or nanny or whatever she is, is standing in the archway. She’s wearing a black dress and a white apron. “Mr. Pitch,” she says, and she must get paid to pretend she doesn’t notice anything around here, because she doesn’t even flinch. Boys kissing is probably mild—she’s probably walked into interrogations and goat sacrifices. “You have guests,” she says. “Two young ladies.”
“Thank you, Vera,” Baz says without a hint of apology. “Send them in.” He straightens his shirt and smooths down his hair.
“Girls?” I say. “More than one?”
“Agatha,” Baz says over my shoulder, “welcome. Hello, Bunce.”
I spin around. Penelope and Agatha are standing in the library door; they must not have waited for the maid to come back for them. Penny’s already eyeing the library bookshelves lustfully. Agatha’s looking at me.
“What are you doing here?” I say.
“Baz called us,” Penny says. She walks into the room and hands me a plate of gingerbread biscuits covered in plastic wrap.
“What are you doing here?” Agatha asks me.
“Agatha was staying with me,” Penny explains, “and she had her car, so—”
“Please come in, Agatha,” Baz invites. “Could I get you both something to drink?”
“I’ll have tea,” Penny says.
“Excellent,” he says, striding past Agatha out the door.
“What is this?” Agatha says. “Penelope wouldn’t even tell me where we were going. What are you doing here, Simon?”
I frown at Penny.
She unwraps the plate of gingerbread and takes one. “I didn’t know what I was allowed to say! And I didn’t think she’d drive me if I told her where we were going. You two need to get over this, Simon. If you can make peace with Baz, you can make peace with Agatha.”
“Temporary peace,” Baz says, already back with tea and a plate of fruit. He must have used magic.
“I’ll pour,” Penny says.
“Temporary peace?” Agatha asks. Penny hands her a cup of tea. “Are you all possessed?” She hands the tea back. “I’m not drinking this.”
Baz looks at me. “Your call, Snow. Do you trust her?”
Agatha’s fuming. “Does he trust me?”
“Of course,” I say. And it’s true, to some extent, anyway. I trust Agatha not to be evil. I don’t trust her alone with Baz—though I guess I should rethink all that, in light of recent information. “Agatha, um—”
“We’re trying to figure out who killed Baz’s mother,” Penelope cuts in.
“The Humdrum killed her,” Agatha says.
Penny holds her teacup up, gesturing with it. “Not according to her, he didn’t.”