The glamour faded, and Sionnach looked at her from his own face. He kissed her nose, a strangely innocent act after the hungry way he’d just been looking at her. “I’ll be back in a few days, princess. Go see Jayce.”

By the time Rika could begin to figure out what to say, Sionnach was gone. If someone had told her yesterday that the mortal she was half in love with and the faery she considered an almost friend would both say such outrageous things to her on the same day, she would’ve laughed madly. Sure, Sionnach flirted now and again, but he’d never truly intimated that he considered her more than a distraction to tease. They’d spoken often of the desert, of courts and politics, of plants and weather. He hadn’t acted like that with her, and Jayce . . . well, he hadn’t known she existed.

The world had gone off-kilter, and she wasn’t quite sure what to think. All she could do tonight was take advantage of the unexpected opportunity to talk to Jayce when he was able to see her, when he could actually reply to her. Nervously, she walked deeper into the cave and followed the tunnel back to the cavern where her mural was. Jayce was staring at it with something like wonder on his face.

She came up beside him.

He didn’t look away from the art. “You’re incredible.”

“I’m not.”

Then, he did look at her, and they were face-to-face, with very little distance between them. Unlike Sionnach, Jayce seemed as nervous as Rika felt. Strangely, that made her feel more comfortable.

“This is the weirdest day of my life.” Jayce stepped even nearer, but it was only one step. His actions grew more tentative with each breath. “And one of the best.”

Rika stayed still, caught between wondering whether it was better to act or react. One of his hands curled around her waist; his fingers rested on the small of her back. His embrace was about keeping her close, holding her near to his chest, lining their bodies up. But that was it—the promise, the temptation, and no more. The tension in his muscles made clear that he was debating moving closer.

He went so far as to tilt his head as if he’d kiss her.

Rika waited, counting the beats of her heart as if by counting she could slow the furious rhythm.

After being utterly untouched for years, she was in someone’s arms for the second time in mere moments—and yet she was still unkissed.

Is it me? She licked her lips, trying to find the words to ask such an unpleasant question. Am I . . . What, though? Unattractive? Uninteresting? Unpleasant in some way?

He ducked his head then, dropping his gaze. “I’m afraid.”