The first kiss was slow, tentative almost. Ilian's warm hands held both sides of Faine's face, tilting her lips towards his, and the world itself seemed to slow at the sight of what was happening below the stars.

The mortal that didn't have enough time to consider such decisions pulled back far enough to place his forehead against hers. Faine didn't know what to do, what to say, what the right response would be to someone that kissed her out of the blue and what it meant—what he wanted. She folded her hand around his wrist and swallowed.

"Ilian," she breathed.

"If you don't want this...tell me to stop."

As if he ripped the breath from her lungs, Faine couldn't find it. Her mind centered on one thought: kissing him again. Raising her eyes to his, at the same moment Ilian began to pull himself away, she did. Faine raked her fingers through his hair and pressed herself against him, standing on her toes to better reach what she longed for. Those movements snapped whatever leash Ilian had kept on himself before that moment and he kissed her harder, to the point Faine felt the cold stone seep into her back—Ilian's warmth on the other side.

No longer did she feel the chill of the night air. All that mattered was Ilian was there, pressed against her, his arms wrapping tight enough around her small waist to leave no room for air. Faine arched into him, needing to have and explore him, but he broke their heated kiss to trail his lips down her jaw and deep against the side of her neck. A needy whimper left Faine's throat, and it brought Ilian's mouth back to hers in one sharp inhale.

"We'll go to the stables," he breathed against her lips and kissed her again.

Faine shook her head to the best of her ability. "Too far." Her voice did not sound like her own; rasped and uneven. The breath that left her lungs came out sharp, tainted with night air. Ilian kissed her again, long enough to make her knees fall weak. "The stables are too far."

That was the prime thought in her mind. Also, the fact that Carlton purchased those stables for her was another guilt pushing its way to the center of her thoughts. The purpose of that purchase was to give her a place to live and grant safety she wouldn't otherwise have. Not make love to a mortal that was too much like a past love to be a coincidence. But it was.

Carlton would never come back, but if there was one thing Faine wished to recall was the way he kissed her. It took her so many years to remember, but pressed against the pillar with her face clutched in Ilian's hands, she finally recollected. Ilian kissed her the same, as if he was running out of air and her kiss was the only way to survive. A certain affection never achieved with anyone else in one hundred years; Faine had finally found it.

"The inn room, then," Ilian whispered. Every second they parted seemed like too long for, after every breath-filled statement, his lips crashed against hers and dragged Faine right back into the trance wafting around his body.

Faine considered how this night would end. One of two ways. In separate beds, or in one. Every man had been the same; if she kissed them, it was possible they'd end up with each other for the night. But this was Ilian, and she couldn't put her finger on exactly why this felt different, why every touch he made sparked lightning over her skin and just how hard it'd be to resist him if the answer turned out to be a weak no.

For once, she didn't find herself longing for the feeling of being in someone's arms. She longed for him instead.

Everything Ilian embodied.

"Ilian," she moaned as he moved his hips against hers and kissed his way behind her ear. Her body went liquid hot, it seemed as though the entire world was crashing down around them, but when she opened her eyes, they were the only two there. Her eyes turned to the stars overhead, and they sang of forgotten nights spent on mountainsides with freedom in her veins. This closely resembled that feeling.

"Tell me you want this, too," he whispered. Ilian pulled himself back around and pressed his forehead against hers, but his hands continued to roam over Faine's hips, her waist, around her shoulders and her arms. The mortal couldn't get enough. Mortal. Ilian was mortal, and she was not... "Tell me you want this as much as I do."

"I do." Faine nodded against him and kissed him gently, sliding one arm around his shoulders. "I do want this...but we have a mission tomorrow and if something goes wrong, I—"

His hands slid to both sides of her jaw, thumbs pressing at the tip, and Ilian leaned back far enough to grant a full view of her face. The tip of his nose was red; his lips were swollen with the act of kissing but his eyes, they sparkled brighter than she'd ever seen. And it was not at the hands of someone else, it was because of her.

"Nothing will go wrong," Ilian promised, but Faine shook her head. He gripped her tighter. "Hey, I said nothing will go wrong. This is only routine."

He leaned down to kiss her again but Faine pressed a hand against his chest, over the dragon buttons holding his waistcoat together. She wanted to kiss every inch of what was underneath. "I can't risk that. This is supposed to be a mission that defines Silver Willow for what it is and I cannot go into it distracted or worrying you won't make it out."

In silent disappointment, Ilian's hands loosened on her face and dropped to her shoulders. She hated it. That feeling of him resenting her. Of anyone resenting her. She went back to the simple connotation that anything with Ilian's disapproval stewed insanity.

"What are you saying?" he asked quietly. His warm breath clouded in front of his face.

Faine looked past the red-tipped nose and swollen lips to meet his eye. Every part of her heart screamed at her to kiss him again, to throw caution aside with the rest of her lucidity and be with him for one night. Second chances were given, but not promised. Ilian wasn't promised the day after tomorrow or even the night itself. His life was fleeting and by kissing her, he did what every mortal was conditioned to doing. Never overthink.

"I'm saying that...if we make it through the mission tomorrow, we'll pursue this." To hell with Rising Eternity, she only had a couple of months left as it was. Ilian never had to know. She ran her hand down his muscled abdomen and Ilian shivered. "We'll go to the stables and..."

Involuntarily, her body was moving towards his again and Ilian caught sight of it before she did. He groaned under his breath and whispered, "To hell with it," and pulled her face to his. There was no fault in kissing him again, as long as they didn't go one step further back at the inn. With such a looming mission around the corner, she wasn't planning on sleeping anyway, but that wasn't an excuse to spend the entire night making Ilian emit those quiet sounds that slipped out when she pressed against him.

The sickening desire building in her core snapped when someone cleared their throat from a few feet away. Ilian tore himself off her and they both whirled, finding Celestia leaning against a pillar, a smirk plastered onto her face. Her diamond glazed gown glittered brighter than those stars overhead and her umber skin, dusted with gold, reminded Faine of the highest stature in royalty.

"Celestia," Ilian sighed. His chest rose and fell rapidly. "I was just...I was coming back soon."

Her eyes darted between the two of them—Ilian standing awkwardly out in the open, Faine pressed against the pillar and forcing herself to look the other way to hide the shame on her face. "If you two were searching for air when you left, I don't suppose you found it. If anything, you're short on it now," she said in a mocking tone.

Ilian released a croaking sound that almost resembled a laugh, but not quite. He didn't know what else to say other than, "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Ilian. I don't involve myself in the personal affairs of my subjects, all I ask is that you don't allow this to interfere with your work tomorrow."

"It won't," Faine blurted. Anything to keep Ilian from losing his position.

"Besides that, I wanted to inform you that guards of the high elf father caught Saskia Wilhelmina hours ago. She was attempting to sneak into the palace through the back of a wagon delivering supplies to the kitchens. Accompanying her was the necessary explosives to level the entire building." Celestia jerked her chin in approval.

Ilian and Faine exchanged a wide-eyed glance. "What does that mean? Are we still attending tomorrow?" he questioned.

"We will go on as normal, but the threat of explosives is lessened. Instead of focusing on Saskia's attempts, we'll shift our strengths to stopping any other attacks. Are we in agreement?"

They nodded in unison. Celestia pushed herself off the side of the pillar and left an unasked question on the tip of her lips. As she walked away, arms crossed over her chest, Faine called after her. "What did they do with Saskia?"

The boss of Silver Willow turned on her heel. That motion alone appeared dangerous to Faine's trained eye. Every move she made was calculated with each small risk. "She's being held in the palace dungeons and awaiting her fate. I don't see it as anything other than death."

Silence restored itself once the click of her heels receded and the door opened and closed behind her. That left only the two of them to bask in the shock of what just happened and what information they learned. Saskia was in the dungeons underneath the palace. She was sitting in a cell and waiting out her fate to be determined after the wedding ceremony for the high elf family. Then again, they could make her execution the entertainment. Faine hoped for anything other than that.

Something about her behind bars didn't feel right. Everyone made mistakes, and every criminal risked capture in their lifetime, but Saskia was too sly to find herself squatting alone in a damp pile of straw that reeked of urine. Strangely so, it was time for her explosive reign to end. A new wave of Pinedon was arriving with the high elf son's marriage and it wasn't a necessary occasion to stop. Faine had no attachment to Saskia, so she quickly forgot about the impact her arrest would've had if they knew anything about each other past that first conversation.

Ilian's boots shuffled across the white stone and he stopped in front of her. One finger slid underneath her chin and pressed up so her eyes met his. "I meant what I said when nothing will go wrong. We've nearly been promised that with Saskia's arrest," he said softly.

"That doesn't change anything," Faine whispered back, shaking her head. "Once this mission is over, we'll consider the future of this." It pained her to stare into his hurt eyes.

"I care for you. You know that, right?"

She couldn't remember the last time she heard that. No one, not even Kaspar, had said it in such a matter. They wanted her presence, needed to have her exist with a heart beating in her chest, but not one had ever said they cared for her. And it sparked a tightening emotion in Faine's stomach that made her bite back tears.

Ilian was mortal. It pissed her off that he wouldn't consider a change, but it was his choice to make. Ilian's life to live. Faine had to respect that.

She nodded. "I do."

A suggestive curve shaped his lips. "And do you care for me?" He braced himself for whatever horrible truth was about to come his way. The letdown.

She had never known anything truer than what her heart was feeling for Ilian. So she smiled back at him and leaned forward to nip at his nose with her fangs. He hissed and batted her away. "Of course, I care for you, darling."

"Good. I was worried this was one-sided."

Faine leaned back against the pillar and arched a brow. Ilian watched her differently, studied each of her movements with a predatory intent in his eyes that wasn't there before. She relished in that shift in attention.

"That's why I wear these dresses—to get your attention."

Ilian laughed under his breath and strutted towards her, bracing his hand against the pillar next to her head. He leaned in close to her ear, spreading chills over Faine's skin, and whispered, "It certainly worked."

Faine didn't have the strength or resilience to stop Ilian as he slid his arm around her waist and pushed her body against his. She draped her arms around his shoulders and breathed in the scent he was born with—leather and pine. But something else was there, too, someone she failed to recognize before Ilian took her hand and led her back into the theater.

She peered into the dark in hopes of finding the source but realized her mind must've played a trick. Kaspar's scent had caught in her nose for one harsh second, citrus and steel, but no one was there. And that sharp smell left with it. Faine didn't think much of it when, instead of leading her back towards the private booth, he led her higher than that—to the rafters above the private booths themselves.

Clearly, he'd done this before. Ilian draped an arm around her shoulders and they sat on the wooden beam together to catch the tail-end of the performance. Down below, caught in Faine's ears, she listened to Ginevra go on and on about how the new feliram wouldn't stand up to the test of such a horrendous mission.

She didn't care. Especially not as Ilian's nose brushed against the side of her neck and he tilted her head to grant access. Now her only trouble was to keep their movements quiet enough that the rest of the theater, their private booth included, didn't hear. That was a nice worry to have, and hardly one at all.