Star's Crossing

19: Champagne, Like Stars

How many times had Mare imagined this moment? This future? This life?

This man?

She could not believe how much she laughed; how sharp he was, how clever, how quick.

And yet.

And yet.

"I must ask you," Mare said, shaking her head, leaning close. There were bubbles in her blood; champagne, like stars. The sun was wildly bright, even through the burs limning the lake of William's Park, and it felt like gold running through her veins. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the light, and Camden's silhouette became a shadow, darting, furtive. "About the first letter."

He laughed, the sound a charm, worn smooth, a shiny thing at Mare's wrist. "What do you wish to know?"

"Why?" She spoke the word on an exhale, and it felt like a wish. "Why did you write back, Camden?" And the champagne ran too free, as it was wont to do, and her tongue ran right along with it. "That letter...it was everything. Before that, I burned every word I wrote. Did you know that? Have I told you?" She laughed, and sat back in her chair and lifted her face to the sun, eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, how I wrote...the words. They came so easily, once. Now each has a price, a rib pulled from my side; ink, blood on the page..."

"Mare..."

"Oh, I know," she sighed, brushing her knuckles against her brow. "Too much. It's always too much. We're too much. Like heroes in the tales; our vices shall be the ax with which we lose our heads—"

"Mare."

"I'm sorry!" Sun, warm as silk against her eyelids. She basked like a snake in its heat. "I know. It's stranger in person. With a quill, with the page, God, it's so simple. I felt like my soul was talking to yours. I felt...God, I felt alive."

"Ms. Atwood."

Mare sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open. Before her stood two fractured figures, silhouetted to anonymity against the sun. A man, a woman.

Mare knew that voice.

"Mr. Bridge," she said quickly, smoothing her dress, batting her lashes until she could see him clearly. And the woman at his side: porcelain and amethyst, hair like white spun silk. "Lilith!"

"Mare," said Lilith cautiously, her voice a warning as she dropped into a shallow curtsy. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Yes. I mean..." Mare looked to Camden, who smiled somewhat sharply, as though delighting in Mare's blunder. "We are. Aren't we, Mr. Doores?"

"Quite. All the way to the bottom of the bottle." He rapped his knuckles against the empty champagne glass. "Thank the Lord we aren't subject to that cursed prohibition, hm?"

"Courting has its privileges," said Teddy. His face was in shadow, but Mare thought he looked at her. "We were toying with the notion of a walk, and thought the pair of you might benefit from a breath of fresh air."

Mare looked in question to Camden, whose gaze remained shackled to his cousin, smile ever in place. "I admit a walk sounds fine. Mr. Doores?"

Camden narrowed those black eyes, then turned to Mare. "I agree. We've had our fun here. Let's go for a turn round the pond, shall we?"

"I am pleased to hear it," said Lilith, offering her hand to Mare. "I've simply been dying to catch up with you, Mare."

"Yes," she said, shaking herself. "And I with you—"