Star's Crossing

12: A Player Yet

"You have a great deal of explaining to do, Mare Atwood." Lilith crossed her hands in her lap, gazing out the carriage window as the night spun by, spills of ink and stars like strands of tinsel. "This gala was far from what I hoped it'd be."

"That makes two of us."

Lilith touched her hair. Her tight curls remained as in place as when she'd arrived, but she worried a strand, twisting it over her ear, knuckles brushing the baroque amethysts that dangled from them. Her hands trembled. "My parents will be displeased I've left early."

Mare considered Lilith's tight posture and brittle tone. The two had never been close. What motivated Lilith now? Curiosity? Desperation? Hollow joy in Mare's suffering? "Why did you?"

"You've had a long night, Mare. No need to protect appearances with me." As she said it, Lilith's shoulders wilted slightly, and she sank into the cushion, head tilted back. In the dark she looked skeletal, inhuman or perhaps more so. "You do, however, owe me an explanation. I told your parents you were feeling faint. They were quite concerned."

Mare smoothed her dress over her knees, swallowing a sharp retort. She suspected her parents had been concerned for very different reasons. Her father might fear for Mare's health, but her mother cared only for the hands she'd held and interest she'd curried.

Interest. Mare shivered at the thought. She and Lilith had sent Geoffrey for their coats, and when Mare remembered the push and pull of light and dark in those close quarters, her cheeks warmed.

She looked out the carriage window, and was grateful the night was over. She needed to sleep. She needed to sort her feelings.

What were her feelings?

Mare noted that with Camden's face in her mind, her own hands began to tremble. "I'm afraid I do not know where to begin."

"It's your story, Mare." Lilith sounded cross, and she heaved an impatient sigh. "Only you know how to tell it."

Mare eyed her. She wasn't certain she could trust the girl. But with her sisters absent and Geoffrey involved and Alison related to both Camden and Theodore, would Mare ever be given the chance to speak of it? She didn't need Lilith to be an ally, necessarily. At the moment, a simple ear would more than suffice.

So Mare wound back her memories, past Camden leaning toward her in the dark, Geoffrey's fingers lingering at her cheek, Teddy's hands at her waist as couples slipped by to the chime of laughter and music. She thought of Camden's prodding and inquiries the night of the dinner party, of Teddy's speech of passion, and Geoffrey smiling in the garden. And before that, she'd met them all on the road. Teddy beneath the great old wishing tree off the main lane, rain gathered in the felt brim of his hat, a dimple in his cheek and mischief in his eyes.

Tomorrow. Mare thought of that last letter, the parchment fitted to her palm then slipped up her sleeve, Northanger Abbey beneath her arm. Had it been only yesterday the world burst open wide, flowing with possibility? Had all of her wishes vanished, consumed by flames tonight?

Or had the embers just been burning, waiting to catch?

But Mare's story wound further back still. Years back. Hundreds of letters and wistful nights, swallowed smiles and dark desires, passion immeasurable and improper; hunger for something, for someone more.

Mare allowed herself a smile. She leaned back her head and closed her eyes, Lilith's expectancy expanding between them, a sea of questions. Mare took a deep breath.