“You don’t have to go,” I blurted out before I’d thought through what her staying meant. My mother was home and my father would be shortly, and if either of them caught me with Pénélope, they’d have her escorted back to her father in an instant. And I’d never hear the end of it. “Or I can track down Anaïs,” I offered. “Or have one of the maids help you clean up. Or–”

“I’ll stay,” she said. “I want to stay. With you.”

She wanted to stay. With me.

Every lamp in the room flared bright with the flux of my magic, then winked out as I jerked it back under control.

“If that’s all right with you,” she stammered in the darkness.

No. Yes. “Of course.”

She mercifully climbed to her feet, the faintest ball of light appearing above her head. “Do you have something dry that I can wear?”

“Dry?” Why did I sound like such an idiot? “I mean, of course.” Diving into my closet, I dug out a shirt and a pair of trousers that were too small for me. “Here.”

She took the garments. Then she turned around. “Will you help me with the buttons?”

Buttons? I gaped at the back of her sodden dress, then began fumbling with the tiny pearls, my fingers shaking. Her back was cool as I descended down her spine, the release of each button revealing another inch of her smooth skin, until I reached her equally damp shift, which clung to every curve. I took hold of the last button, and as it released, the gown slipped over her hips to pool on the ground around her feet.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t wrap my head around the notion that the girl I’d loved for as long as I could remember was standing all but naked in front of me. Then she reached back and caught hold of my hand, pulling it forward so that my arm wrapped around her waist, her fingers laced with mine.

A cool draft came through the open window, and she shivered, her magic too depleted to keep her warm.

So I did it for her.

Steam rose from her shift and, afraid I might burn her, I coated her skin with magic as the air filled with mist. It was like touching her, but not, the distance it created both unwelcome and comforting, because I wanted more but was afraid to take that step. I didn’t know if she wanted me to.

Then she sighed softly, and there was something in the tone of it that answered my unspoken question.

“Are you sure?” I said into her hair, knowing that this would make our situation more complicated. That it might very well make it worse.

“Very sure.”

Was I? Since I’d been old enough to care about such things, I wanted this. With her. Always her, and none other. But now that the moment was upon me, I found myself shying away, because I wasn’t sure I was ready, or even capable, of shedding all the shadows from within which I hid. She was talented and kind and lovely and clever, and I was…