When we finally pulled back, the night air was cool on my face and my heart was making a racket I'd have been embarrassed by in a fight.
Luna's golden eyes held mine. There's an old light in them, something that was already watching the world when the first Slatemark was still learning to hold a pen. Tonight there was something new beside it, and it took me a second to name. Nerves. Luna, who has stared down things that eat cities, was nervous.
"Inside," I said. My voice came out lower than I meant it to. I brushed my thumb along her lower lip. "If you want. The bedroom."
She nodded once, decisively, the way she does when she's already made up her mind and is only waiting for the world to catch up. Her hand slid into mine and held on.
At the balcony door she glanced at the couch. Stella was a mound of blanket and gifts, one arm flung over Tiamat's slate, the Quiet Heart rising and falling on her chest.
