Our current pattern looked a lot like our old one, from the outside. He smiled more than he used to; I smiled back more than was necessarily wise. There was just one problem: Tybalt kept insisting someone was lying to me about something major enough that I wouldn’t believe it unless I figured it out for myself. And he was refusing to get any closer until I knew what it was.

The man can be insufferable when he wants to. Just like every other cat I’ve ever met.

He offered his arm with perfect courtly grace. “The Lady of the Mists will be calling Court soon.” He wouldn’t call her “Queen,” but he was smart enough to be polite inside her domain. “May I stand as your escort?”

I glanced sharply at him, looking for any trace of mockery. It wasn’t there. Just the smile, and the guarded caution.

“I guess so,” I said, and slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow.

His smile grew, briefly chasing the caution from his eyes. “I know you object to others choosing your attire, but the gown suits you. You should wear red more often.” My cheeks burned. He laughed. “Not quite what I meant, but the compliment stands.” Standing straight and proper, like the gentleman his clothes proclaimed he was, he turned to lead me to the front of the room. I watched him as we walked, trying to figure out what he was up to. His expression didn’t offer any clues.

Tybalt pulled his arm away when we reached the edge of the crowd, and the bow he offered wasn’t mocking in the least. I offered a curtsy in automatic response, my blush rising once more. He glanced to the side while I was straightening from my curtsy, and for a moment, I thought his cheeks were as red as mine. Just a trick of the light; when he turned back toward me, he was as composed as ever.

“You’ll have a better view from here,” he said.

“Uh, right.” I frowned. “Tybalt, what are you up to?”

“Oh, no,” he said, waving a finger as he stepped closer. “Don’t question your betters. It’s not attractive.”

That was the Tybalt I knew. “Right,” I said. “You’re here to piss me off.”

“You seem to view it as one of my strengths, and I like playing to my strengths.” Suddenly serious, he stepped toward me again, stopping well within what I considered my personal space. Dropping his voice to a near-whisper, he said, “The Lady of the Mists is planning something. Take care, little fish; she has no love for you.”

“Tybalt—”

“I need to leave you with anger on both sides. I’d rather she had no cause to think us friends.” His smile dimmed, turning wry and sincere at the same time. “You’ll do better if you keep me in reserve.”

I blinked. The Queen was plotting against me? It wasn’t totally surprising—I couldn’t stay off her radar forever. Lacking better instructions from my brain, my mouth seized on the point that seemed the strangest, asking, “We’re friends?”

Tybalt’s laughter was so soft it would have been inaudible if I hadn’t been close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin and smell the faint pennyroyal undertones of his magic. “When I can bear your company. And in the interests of friendship, I hope you’ll forgive me what I’m about to do.”

“Forgive you wha—”

My sentence was cut off as he clamped his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply.

Well. That was new.

THREE

TYBALT’S HAND SOMEHOW FOUND ITS WAY to my hip, giving me something to brace myself against. That was considerate of him, since my knees were shaking so hard I could barely stay upright. Every nerve I had was on fire. The fact that we were standing in the middle of the Queen’s Court seemed utterly inconsequential. So did the fact that we were surrounded by courtiers, even though part of me was sure I’d regret that later. Most of me was busy kissing Tybalt, and as long as he was kissing me back, I was going by majority rule.

On the few occasions when I’d considered what it might be like to kiss Tybalt, I always assumed he’d be pushy, the kind of man who makes it clear that he’s entirely in charge and you’d better just go along with things. This kiss wasn’t anything like I’d imagined. It was firm, yes, and he was definitely making a case for its continuation . . . but it was also soft, and a lot more considerate than I would have expected. I’m not sure what that says about me.

Tybalt’s free hand skated up my back to the bare skin between my shoulders. I leaned into him, deepening the kiss. His lips tasted like pennyroyal. His hand slid still farther up, finally pausing on my shoulder.

Then he shoved me away.

I staggered back, my shocked stare meeting his icy, familiar sneer. In a tightly controlled voice pitched loud enough for everyone around us to hear, he said, “There. Our accounts are settled. Good evening, Sir Daye.” He turned on his heel and stalked off into the crowd before I could recover enough to ask what the hell he was talking about.

The courtiers parted to let him pass, closing the gap behind him. The less considerate ones smirked in my direction, their expressions telegraphing the belief that I was getting just what I deserved.

My instincts said to stay put until my knees stopped shaking, while the lessons on courtly behavior Devin and Sylvester worked so hard to drill through my thick skull told me that was the worst thing I could do. I straightened my shoulders, trying to emulate my mother’s default expression of superior unconcern as I beat a decorous but hasty retreat to the safety of the nearest pillar. Seeing that I wasn’t going to provide further entertainment, the crowd turned away, leaving me free to fade into the shadows. I sagged against the wall, rubbing my forehead as I waited for my heart to stop pounding. Life was a lot simpler when Tybalt just sniped at me all the time.

“Guy troubles?” asked May, walking up and leaning next to me.

I eyed her. “Did you miss what just happened?”

“Nope, and it’s about time,” she said, with disturbing relish. “I caught the whole thing. Is he a good kisser? I know you’ve wondered.”

“May!”

“What? I’m just asking. I mean, sure, maybe it’s not important that Tybalt kissed you. And I’m sure it doesn’t matter that he’s leaving, and you look like someone stole your puppy.” She paused. “Maybe ‘stole your kitten’ would be a better comparison.”

“Can we not have this conversation?”