Defy the Night (Defy the Night, #1)

by Brigid Kemmerer

I shouldn’t be so attached. I know I shouldn’t. But since my parents were executed, the only constant in my life has been Wes. The thought of fate yanking him away, too . . . ​I almost can’t bear it.

His fingers are warm against mine, and I try not to think about the fact that his lips were just against this piece of fruit. I twist it to bite at a different spot.

He looks like revolution. He looks like compassion. Blue eyes and gentle hands and quick feet and a core of strength and steel.

“Do you think they deserve it?” “I think that very few people truly deserve what they get, Tessa.” He pauses, and for the briefest moment, sadness flickers through his eyes. “For good or for bad.”

“You only deserve good things,” I whisper.

When I reach for my hat where it hangs on a hook by the window, Wes catches my arm and turns me around. I suck in a breath, but he puts his hands on my cheeks to lean in close, and I all but melt into a puddle on the floor. My back hits the wall of the workshop, and my head spins. Then Wes’s mouth hovers above mine, and I lose all rational thought. His thumb traces my lower lip.

“Not never, Tessa,” he says, and his voice is so rich and deep that he could be speaking straight to my heart. “But not like this.”

“Go, then,” I say, and my voice almost breaks. Something in his eyes fractures. “Lord, Tessa. Don’t you understand? I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for you.”

Without warning, he strides forward, catches my waist in both hands, then presses his mouth to mine.

He taps me on the nose. “Mind your mettle and keep your head down. I’ll be back in an hour.”

He didn’t want to go. He was right. It was too risky. He went for me.

Mind your mettle, Tessa.

“True strength is not determined by how brutal you can be,” she says, and her tone is still quiet, but full of steel. “True leadership is not determined by killing those who oppose you.”

“You are the King’s Justice, not his executioner. I thought someone should remind you.”

“I wish I’d never let you kiss me,” she says quietly.

I almost flinch. I should have let her hang on to the chain. Being hit with that would’ve hurt less.

Again, I wish for masks, for darkness, for firelight and moonlit paths and everything we’ll never share together again.

I should have told her. That night, I should have told her. Maybe I am a coward.

After so many nights in close proximity, this distance feels unbearably far.

Wes never really existed at all. That’s almost harder to accept than his death.

“I hate you,” I grit out. He tosses it to me, and I catch it automatically, since the alternative is letting it smack me in the face. “As I’ve said in the past,” he says, “that will definitely work out for the best.”

“You decline an invitation to dine with the brother of the king?” He feigns a gasp. “What will the kitchen staff say when your plate returns untouched?”

“You haven’t said anything about the girl,” says Allisander. The girl. I bristle at his dismissive tone, and it takes effort to hide it. The girl is brave. Brilliant. Strong. Compassionate. The girl does more for Kandala than the spoiled consul standing in front of me.

“I can’t,” I say again, my eyes burning into hers. “I can’t, Tessa. You don’t know how many times I wished dawn wouldn’t come so quickly. How many times I wanted to stay with you instead of returning to this. How many times I wished I were truly Weston Lark, that Prince Corrick was the fabrication.”

“I bring nightmares to life,” I say. “If you think a dark look will affect me, you will quickly learn otherwise.”

“You remind me so much of Wes when you laugh.” Her eyes gleam. “I can’t tell who’s real and who’s the illusion.”

I want my hands on her waist, on her back, on every inch of skin this gown leaves bare—and some inches that it does not. I want her scent in my head and her taste on my tongue and her arms wound around my neck. I can’t move. I want her to want those things, too.

You remind me of how it felt to be Wes.

I should hate him, but I can’t. I don’t know what that says about me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to examine it too closely.

I was ready to kneel at my brother’s feet and beg for release. I’m ready to kneel at Tessa’s and beg forgiveness.

“If you know I can see through all your illusions,” I say softly, “you might as well stop trying to throw them in my path. I know who you are. I know what you’ve done.” I glance up, and I can’t decide if I hate him or if I pity him—or something else altogether. “I see you. I see what this is doing to you. Has done to you.”

He’s dressed in finery again, all velvet and leather and brocade, which is quite a shame after I’ve seen him shirtless.

“You’re risking yourself,” I whisper. “Yes. So are you.” His eyes hold mine. “Let’s make it worth it.”

Forgive me. Please, Tessa. I would give anything.

“You make me want to do better,” he says suddenly, and his voice is thick with emotion, so I go still. “You make me wish Weston Lark was real, because you will never look at me the way you look at him. I don’t know how to fix everything I’ve done wrong, Tessa. I don’t even know if I can. But I want to try.”

“Tessa,” he whispers, and my name sounds like a plea. “Oh, Tessa.” “Say it again,” I tease, and I feel his smile against my lips.

I lift my hands, and it costs me everything. “I surrender.”

They say it as if Corrick has a little scratch, instead of looking like he’s a heartbeat away from a coffin, but I nod.

“Please, my love,” Corrick whispers into my ear. “Please.”

“Someone once told me that we should be riding at the front, not hiding in the shadows. I couldn’t let you and Harristan have all the fun.”

My days are busy with meetings, but my favorite part of the day is when the sun has fallen from the sky, and I walk with Corrick under the stars, the moonlight tracing his features in shadow.

“The people loved Wes and Sullivan,” I whisper. “Give them a chance to love Harristan and Corrick.”

“You can do this,” I say quietly. He shakes his head a bit, then brushes his lips over mine. “We can do this.”

Then his hands find my waist, and I drown in his eyes and inhale his breath. The darkness closes in around us until there’s nothing but the warmth of his hands and the sound of his voice, low and teasing in my ear. There is so much to be done, so many things to hope for. But just for a moment, I close my eyes, lean into his touch, and remember what it was like when it was just the two of us against the night.