Rebellion

Chapter Seventeen: Luke

Chapter Seventeen: Luke

            “Your sister agreed to stay?” Adelena asked doubtfully when I returned to her room after my visit with Luna.

            I snorted. “Not at all.”

            “Then how are you going to keep her out of Giovanni’s hands?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

            I grinned. “We’re leaving tonight, my dear,” I said, planting a kiss on the hollow between her neck and her shoulder.

            She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers up my spine. “You’re terribly sneaky, love,” she said, tugging me down by my collar and kissing me lightly. “But I rather like it.”

            “Of course you do,” I smirked, pulling just out of her reach. “You’re the same way.”

            She laughed again, shaking her head at me. “Are you accusing me of narcissism?” she teased.

            “Of course not,” I said seriously. “Accusing is such an awful word…it’s more stating a fact than accusing you of it, dear.”

            She rolled her eyes, smiling amusedly. “I suppose it’s a good thing we never unpacked,” she said, pursing her lips as she surveyed the bags neatly stowed across the room.

            I shrugged. “Living the nomadic life has its costs,” I said.

            Her head rested on my shoulder. “Promise me we’ll have a house when I’m pretending to be married to you in City of Kings.”

            “While we’re pretending to be married, you’ll have a house and anything else your heart desires for our fake home,” I promised.

            She sighed softly. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said for the twelfth time.

            “I know.”

            “Forging the papers, bribing the guards...it’s all punishable by death in Giovanni’s city, you know. Any falsehood can be a charge of treason.”

            “I know, Adelena,” I said quietly, tilting her face so that our eyes met. “I have known, since the beginning. And it doesn’t change my mind.”

            “It should,” she whispered, trailing her fingers across my cheek.

            I closed my eyes and caught her hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my face. “There are a lot of things I’ve done that I’m ashamed of,” I said. “I’d like to have just one that I can be proud of.”

            Her laugh was shakier this time.

            “You stupid nobles and your senses of honor,” she said softly. “You die for the silliest things.”

            “They’re called causes, my dear,” I said, attempting to smile. “And every martyr must have one.”

            She closed her eyes. “There’s a fine line between martyrdom and masochism,” she said. “Don’t sacrifice yourself unnecessarily.”

            “Are you suggesting that someone might actually miss me if I died?”

            She shot me a glare. “I would hope you’d know the answer to that.”