Pari got up and took more than her hand. He kissed her, pressed against her, still laughing a little, his nose cold but his mouth warm and soft. For the sake of encouraging him, Lovisa held the letter opener out of his reach and kissed him back. It began to feel good, which made her unhappy. She wasn’t going to do this again. She was too torn between the confusion of physically wanting someone who was awful; manipulating someone, yet feeling guilty about it; controlling someone, yet sensing that her control could spiral away at any moment he chose, because he was stronger, and volatile.

“Come on,” she whispered. Feeling forward with her letter-opener hand, she led him out of the room.

—

They passed no guards and, considering that most of their route was pitch-dark, made very little noise. Lovisa picked up a lamp from a table. “You carry that,” she whispered to Pari, passing it to him.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider lighting the stupid thing?” he whispered back.

“Soon,” she said.

They reached the door to the attic stairs, which creaked as it opened. Climbing the stairs and passing through the second door, they stepped into the cavernous attic, made of darkness and shadows. Lovisa closed the door behind them and felt safer suddenly, hidden from the rest of the house.

“We’re almost there,” she said, tugging at the string around her neck that held the key. He crossed the floor with her, his breath quickening audibly. Lovisa reached out and felt for the door to the little room, finding the keyhole, while Pari pressed against her and gave his hands free rein. His hands were everywhere on her body. No, not everywhere, for he still hadn’t discovered the letter opener. A boy in the dark doesn’t care about my hands. I can hide things in my hands, she thought, filing it away for later, even though she was never going to do this again.

The lock clicked. “Okay, Pari,” she said, “you just wait out here for a second while I get the room ready.”

“I’m sure it’s ready.”

“Sometimes my brothers have sleepovers in this room,” she said. “You want them to see us like this? Let me make sure it’s empty and safe. Here, hand me that lamp.”

He shoved the lamp at her. “Be quick.”

“How about you count to a hundred? Okay? Think how good it’ll feel after you count to a hundred.” She kissed him, then started counting, slowly. “One, two . . .”

While he gritted his teeth and counted, she disentangled herself, pushed into the room, shut the door quickly, found the keyhole, and locked it closed from the inside.

“Hey!” she heard him yell. “You’re going to let me in, right?”

“Of course!” she said. “Be quiet! The guards will hear!”

Then a voice spoke inside the room, soft and vague, as if its speaker were half-asleep.