My first instinct—to shove him away—dies down the second his lips meet mine. Every single nerve in my body goes to where he touches—my lips, my chin, the curve of my waist. My hands have a mind of their own—when I place them on his chest to push him away, they pull him closer, instead.

"Hey!"

As abruptly as the kiss started, it ends. Killian leans away, his body impossibly close to mine as he twists his head to the direction of the shout.

"What're you doing up here?" the voice from behind Killian says again.

We've been caught, and yet, the hammering of my heart is for an entirely different reason. Killian presses every inch of his body against mine, moulding me to the wall.

"Sorry," he mumbles, feigning embarrassment as he scratches the back of his head. "We—uh—we were just looking for somewhere private."

In the gap between his arm and body, I can see the guards' feet. There's two of them, standing merely metres away. I hold my breath as we await their response.

"Can't even wait till you get downstairs," one snickers. The other mutters something much more crude that makes my already flushed cheeks burn.

"Get back to the servants' quarters," he scowls after a chuckle at our expense.

"Of course, sir," Killian murmurs. "Sorry."

Their shuffling of feet fills the hall as they move past Killian. My hands, still on Killian's chest, fist his shirt in anticipation as they pause. "By the way," one pauses, "I don't recognise you. What station did you say you were from again?"

Every muscle in Killian's body tenses. "Kitchen."

Another pause. Beneath Killian's arm, one reaches towards their belt. "Kitchen servants don't get passage up here."

There's a split second before Killian strikes. He knocks one guard out with a thump to the head, and the other facing away from me with a knife to his neck. I watch wide-eyed as Killian presses a point in the guard's neck and he flops to the ground before he can even scream for help.

He straightens his back, turning back to face me, a wicked grin lighting his face.

"Well," he brushes his hands on his pants, "that was close."

We were almost caught, almost ruined. We almost jeopardised my chance of finding my brother, and yet Killian stands in front of me with a satisfied grin—like that was the most fun he's had in days. But even worse—the only thing I can focus on is the faint tingle of my lips, the remainder of Killian's touch.

He kissed me.

He raises a brow. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." I clear my throat, looking away from him and at the guards on the floor. "How did you do that?"

"Pressure point." He gestures to his neck. "We should go before they wake up."

I nod much too enthusiastically, nearly tripping over myself to follow him back down the hall. Killian moves as smoothly as normal, seemingly unaffected by what just happened.

Focus, Freya.

I count the steps back to the window we came through to distract myself. If another guard were to stare me straight in the face, I'm not entirely sure I'd notice. We reach the room. 349 steps. I wait in the shadows as Killian scales the building up to the room I'm staying, then throws the rope down for me to secure around my waist. I tighten it, barely afraid this time as I scale the building and launch myself over the balcony railing, ignoring the hand Killian offers me. Once my feet are back on steady ground, I methodically unwind the rope and walk past Killian into the warmth of the room.

He follows.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" I ask Killian without turning around.

"Not really. I'll go again tomorrow before the ball." He inches closer, around the bed so he can see my face. "I must thank you, Freya, for not slapping me." My eyes dart to his. Did he feel it to? That warmth when our lips touched, the spark in his chest. "You listened to my instructions, for once."

"I'll do anything to ensure I can save Samu. Even that."

"You mean to say you didn't enjoy that?" His breath is warm against my neck as he leans closer, that mischievous glint in his eye. "In fact, I seem to recall you pulling me closer."

"Don't be ridiculous! You're entirely mis--"

"Calm down. I'm messing with you." He leans away with a small grin. "It was just a kiss. No harm done."

Just a kiss. No harm done.

"Exactly," I say, taking a deep breath. "Just a kiss. For the sake of Samu."

"Right."

I wish I could read his mind. I wish I could delve into those dark eyes, and I wish I could tear my heart out of my chest to stop it from pounding so loudly. I wish he didn't kiss me. I wish he didn't say it was just a kiss. I wish there was no harm done, but my stomach feels like it's turning itself inside out.

"I should get some rest," I say finally.

"Tomorrow is a big day. It's important that you don't stray from the plan."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

"That leaves a far too greater gap of dangerous things you could do."

"Well perhaps you should start leading by example."

"Boring," he muses. "Try this—don't do anything Casimir wouldn't do."

"So basically, don't do anything remotely risky?"

"Whatever happens—"

I turn to walk away. "Obey your orders, got it. Though if I'm doing it like Casimir, I won't be doing it without snide remarks."

"This is serious, Freya." He catches my wrist. The contact of his skin on mine makes heat crawl up my neck. "There will be some very powerful shifters at the ball tomorrow night, worse than Elora. Try your hardest not to piss any of them off."

"I am capable of behaving for a few hours, Killian. I won't risk ruining the plan."

"The plan will proceed even if you do piss them off. That's not what I'm worried about." His gaze holds me captive a few moments longer before they dart to the bandage wrapped around my wrist. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

His expression makes me want to step closer, to take his hand and swear on my brother's life that I won't do anything wrong. But I stay glued to the spot as he moves to the balcony doors, casting me one final glance my way.

"Sleep well, Freya. It might the last one you get for a while."

He leaves without giving me a chance to respond. Settling on the edge of the bed, I try to calm my racing mind. Between the kiss, the information about the cloud, Portson and Torinne, my mind feels like a churning river.

But there's one thing Killian's right about. If tomorrow is successful, we'll be on the run.

#

Sleep evades me long after Killian leaves.

I toss and turn, the remnants of his presence still heavy in the room, the feel of his lips against mine, thoughts of the feelings it conjured. They're not entirely new. I never denied the attraction I felt towards Killian, but my suspicions of him overpowered any potential of a romantic connection. I spend hours trying to pinpoint when that changed, but I can't find any specific moment.

Killian's made promises, but most importantly, he's kept them. I feel safe with him, running through shifter infested corridors, sneaking through confidential files—all potentially life-threatening activities. Even standing against the wall, pressed into his body with his hands on my chin and two shifters standing directly behind him, I never felt unsafe. A quiet confidence settled within me that we would get out of it because Killian was there.

There's a security in his presence that I never anticipated. And that kiss conjured feelings I've been too afraid to approach.

Tomorrow is the most important day of my life and yet I lie tormented by thoughts of what he might be doing, whether he's lurking through the shadows of the village streets, eavesdropping on important conversations.

I flip over, putting a pillow over my head and squeezing my eyes shut, trying to think of something else, but only Killian's words come to mind.

Just a kiss, he'd said. No harm done.

I wish I felt the same.

When I do eventually fall asleep, Killian floats in and out of my dreams—in Veymaw, with Casimir and Samu by the lake. I dream of his stories, appearing at the seaside, amongst the marsh and tall grass, chasing his sister through the mud.

Sleep well, he'd said as he left. It might be last one you get for a while.

I don't feel well rested, but the sun is well in the sky when I wake the next day, dark, tired circles beneath my eyes. A knock at the door draws me from my slumber. I've barely thrown a dress on by the time they come in, three maids rolling in a rack of garments and a tray full of jewellery. The maid at the front is the same one I had on my first day here. Her expression is just as cold as it was that first day.

"Good morning, Miss Raune."

"Good morning," I squeak, wrapping my arms across my chest.

"We are here to help you prepare for the ball."

"So early?" I glance to the sky outside. "It's barely noon."

She makes a 'tsk' sound with her tongue. "Then we're running behind schedule. Sit."

I don't resist as she guides me to the chair in front of the vanity, wrinkling her nose at the frizz in my hair from my restless night. The other two in the room comb through the clothing rack, sorting through an array of colourful gowns.

"Will you be there tonight?" I ask. "At the ball?" She frowns but does not answer. "I'm just unsure of who will be in attendance is all."

"Much of the village have been invited," she says finally. "They have heard of you."

"What about me?"

She narrows her eyes at me in a similar way Elora does. She thinks I'm lying, too, playing dumb.

"And the King?" I ask. "Have you met him?"

"The King keeps to himself."

"You mean he's never revealed himself to his subjects?"

"The Kingdom of Elel is safe, secure, and beautiful. There is no need for such pleasantries."

I fight the urge to snort. I wonder if she'd stand by that statement if she were to leave the mountains and see the human villages. It also makes me wonder about what Killian told me about the cloud—are the shifters in Elel in the same state of denial Trina's in? Do they really care so little they believe it to be no threat?

I spend the next couple of hours combing through the evening plans in my mind as the maids' poke and prod me. There's so much room for malfunction, one tiny string to be pulled too far to the left and the whole piece unravels. But while I may not know Elex very well, my faith in both Casimir and Killian is unmatched.

They won't let me down.

Whatever happens tonight, we're going to find Samu. We're going to get out of here. We're going to cause an explosion.

Cool fingers rake through my hair as I'm instructed to stand. The maid tightens the strings at the back of the long, green gown she's placed me in, lacing it so tightly I struggle to breathe. And as the other paints rouge to my cheeks and dusts coal along the lids of my eyes, I can't help but see myself as a doll.

The shifter's doll—poked and prodded for their pleasure.

Only thoughts of Samu can possibly distract me from wondering about the why.

Do you think Freya's reluctant feelings are mutual or one-sided?

Why do you think they're treating Freya so well and throwing her a ball?

What do you think might happen next?