A calm, full silence enveloped us. Too many words—I still had too many words in me.
I don’t know how much time passed, but it must have been a while, because when he spoke again, I jolted. “Every year that I was Under the Mountain and Starfall came around, Amarantha made sure that I … serviced her. The entire night. Starfall is no secret, even to outsiders—even the Court of Nightmares crawls out of the Hewn City to look up at the sky. So she knew … She knew what it meant to me.”
I stopped hearing the celebrations around us. “I’m sorry.” It was all I could offer.
“I got through it by reminding myself that my friends were safe; that Velaris was safe. Nothing else mattered, so long as I had that. She could use my body however she wanted. I didn’t care.”
“So why aren’t you down there with them?” I asked, even as I tucked the horror of what had been done to him into my heart.
“They don’t know—what she did to me on Starfall. I don’t want it to ruin their night.”
“I don’t think it would. They’d be happy if you let them shoulder the burden.”
“The same way you rely on others to help with your own troubles?”
We stared at each other, close enough to share breath.
And maybe all those words bottled up in me … Maybe I didn’t need them right now.
My fingers grazed his. Warm and sturdy—patient, as if waiting to see what else I might do. Maybe it was the wine, but I stroked a finger down his.
And as I turned to him more fully, something blinding and tinkling slammed into my face.
I reeled back, crying out as I bent over, shielding my face against the light that I could still see against my shut eyes.
Rhys let out a startled laugh.
A laugh.
And when I realized that my eyes hadn’t been singed out of their sockets, I whirled on him. “I could have been blinded!” I hissed, shoving him. He took a look at my face and burst out laughing again. Real laughter, open and delighted and lovely.
I wiped at my face, and when I pulled my hands down, I gaped. Pale green light—like drops of paint—glowed in flecks on my hand.
Splattered star-spirit. I didn’t know if I should be horrified or amused. Or disgusted.
When I went to rub it off, Rhys caught my hands. “Don’t,” he said, still laughing. “It looks like your freckles are glowing.”
My nostrils flared, and I went to shove him again, not caring if my new strength knocked him off the balcony. He could summon wings; he could deal with it.
He sidestepped me, veering toward the balcony rail, but not fast enough to avoid the careening star that collided with the side of his face.
He leaped back with a curse. I laughed, the sound rasping out of me. Not a chuckle or snort, but a cackling laugh.
And I laughed again, and again, as he lowered his hands from his eyes.
The entire left side of his face had been hit.
Like heavenly war paint, that’s what it looked like. I could see why he didn’t want me to wipe mine away.
Rhys was examining his hands, covered in the dust, and I stepped toward him, peering at the way it glowed and glittered.
He went still as death as I took one of his hands in my own and traced a star shape on the top of his palm, playing with the glimmer and shadows, until it looked like one of the stars that had hit us.
His fingers tightened on mine, and I looked up. He was smiling at me. And looked so un-High-Lord-like with the glowing dust on the side of his face that I grinned back.
I hadn’t even realized what I’d done until his own smile faded, and his mouth parted slightly.
“Smile again,” he whispered.
I hadn’t smiled for him. Ever. Or laughed. Under the Mountain, I had never grinned, never chuckled. And afterward …
And this male before me … my friend …
For all that he had done, I had never given him either. Even when I had just … I had just painted something. On him. For him.
I’d—painted again.
So I smiled at him, broad and without restraint.
“You’re exquisite,” he breathed.
The air was too tight, too close between our bodies, between our joined hands. But I said, “You owe me two thoughts—back from when I first came here. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Rhys rubbed his neck. “You want to know why I didn’t speak or see you? Because I was so convinced you’d throw me out on my ass. I just … ” He dragged a hand through his hair, and huffed a laugh. “I figured hiding was a better alternative.”
“Who would have thought the High Lord of the Night Court could be afraid of an illiterate human?” I purred. He grinned, nudging me with an elbow. “That’s one,” I pushed. “Tell me another thought.”
His eyes fell on my mouth. “I’m wishing I could take back that kiss Under the Mountain.”
I sometimes forgot that kiss, when he’d done it to keep Amarantha from knowing that Tamlin and I had been in the forgotten hall, tangled up together. Rhysand’s kiss had been brutal, demanding, and yet … “Why?”