Rosemary and Rue

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice unintentionally soft.

He stepped toward me. “So am I.”

For a moment, we just stared into one another’s eyes. His were brown from edge to edge, darkening at the center rather than resolving into a defined pupil. You could drown in those eyes. I wanted to. It would have been safer than whatever I was doing with Devin, and a lot less likely to get me killed . . . and it wasn’t an option. If I was looking for sex, I already had it, and if I was looking for love, I was probably out of luck—and either way, this wasn’t my road to take. Bracing my hands against his chest, I pushed him backward.

“We can’t do this,” I said. My voice was hollow. It wasn’t so much that I wanted him as it was that I wanted the idea of him; the idea of someone who would hold me and tell me things were going to be okay, without having to go back Home.

Connor gave me a hurt look, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder. “Why not? I want to. So do you. Why can’t we?”

“Let’s start with the easy stuff,” I said, stepping out from under his hand. “You’re married, and I don’t want to be banished. Is that a good answer?”

“Raysel won’t care; you know that. As long as we stay married, she stays heir, and that makes her happy. It’s not a marriage. It’s a treaty.”

“I care. I won’t step on her toes.” I took another step back, shaking my head. “It’s not worth it, Connor.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” he said, voice pitched low. The tone sent a thrumming down my spine. My central nervous system voted to abdicate. No, no, no. This was not going to happen. Not with him.

“Look, Connor, maybe it would be worth it. I don’t know. Ask me again when we know who killed Evening, and maybe I’ll have a good answer.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “For right now, can we just try to figure out who did this before they decide to try it again?”

He nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and let his hand fall to his side. I felt a surge of relief mixed with remorse, and took a deep, slow breath. Oberon’s bones, what had I been thinking?

I cast a sidelong glance his way. He was studying one of the carvings on the wall, carefully not looking at me. The answer was simple: I hadn’t been thinking at all. I’d just been reacting. I didn’t love him, but there was a time when I might have, and that was enough to move me forward. I needed to be needed. This wasn’t the right way.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you looking for?”

His tone told me he wanted to move on. I seized the opening. “I don’t know—something useful. Answers, maybe.”

“Are answers usually that easy to find?”

“After the week I’ve had, the world owes me some easy answers.”

“Are you finding any?”

That ranked high on the stupid questions list. “Not yet. Just some empty halls and you.” I turned in a circle, scanning the room. There were shadows in the corners, even with the lights on. There were no bodies, and the ghost of Hamlet’s father didn’t seem likely to show up, but it was bad enough. I almost thought I could hear faint noises drifting down the center hall.

“Welcome to the haunted halls of Elsinore,” I muttered.

Connor glanced at me. “What was that?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Why?”

I paused, and in the silence of that moment, I heard the sounds from the hall again. They were real, and they were getting louder. “Did you come alone?”

“What?” He blinked. “Of course. Who would I have brought with me? Sylvester has people checking every place you might’ve gone.”

“Right.” I stepped backward. Whoever was coming down the hall was too quiet to be Manuel or Dare. “Not to be alarmist or anything, but there are people trying to kill me right now, which means staying here might not be the best plan.”