"If you don't hold still, you're going to end up freckled like me."

  "It's cold!" Seraphine squirmed as I spread sunscreen across her back.

  "Come on. Quit being such a baby. Lumiere didn't compin."

  She sulked. "It's not fair being compared to a literal saint."

  I made sure to get under the frilly edges of her polka-dot swimsuit—those ruffles were bound to shift once we started pying.

  When I finished, I tapped her shoulder, and she bounded off to join Lumiere and Evelyn in the shallows.

  Lumiere wore a modest baby-blue two-piece, showing just a hint of midriff. It was adorable, and I was rather proud of the swimsuits I'd helped pick out.

  But nothing drew the eye like Evelyn's tiny bck bikini—one from her personal wardrobe, no doubt. It clung to her like sin itself, showing all of her sun-kissed skin and easy confidence.

  I gnced toward Rocher, half expecting his gaze to be stuck on her, but to my surprise, his eyes were fixed firmly on the sand.

  His ears and neck were red—sunburned already?

  "Come here, Mister Rocher. Your turn."

  I used nearly half the bottle on his broad back and shoulders. The lotion caught the light as it spread, gleaming between the grooves of his muscles. My fingers traced each hollow, the skin warm and taut beneath them. He stood there like a marble statue—utterly rigid.

  I gave his shoulder a pyful squeeze. The muscle twitched under my palm, and he flinched hard enough to make me ugh.

  "Rex, will you? It's your vacation too."

  "Yes. Of course."

  I shook the nearly empty bottle. "There's a little left. Do my back as well."

  He froze.

  "Go on," I urged, handing it to him. "It's not like I can reach back there myself."

  For a moment, nothing. Then the cool touch of lotion spread over my shoulders in slow, deliberate circles. His hands moved carefully, like he was afraid to think about what they were touching.

  "You can use more pressure," I said over my shoulder. "I'm not made of gss."

  "I'm aware," he muttered, a little too stiffly.

  The lotion was cool at first, but it didn't take long for my skin to prickle—from the sun, or from his touch, I couldn't tell.

  When I turned slightly, I caught his expression: tight-lipped, focused, like he was facing down a battlefield instead of a woman in a swimsuit.

  "Honestly, you're hopeless," I teased. "Evelyn's wearing less than I am, and you didn't even blink at her."

  Mine was a high-waisted white bikini—hardly my first choice, but one of the few that actually fit.

  "It's not that..." he said under his breath.

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing. Just making sure you don't burn."

  I hummed, pleased. "Good. I burn easily. Especially around the straps. Make sure you get in there too."

  His hand faltered, but I didn't notice. I was too busy worrying whether he'd missed a spot.

  Like clockwork, as soon as the sun went down, Evelyn brought out the wine.

  Lumiere abstained, content with her water and snacks. Seraphine nursed her single drink, wielding it like a shield.

  So it ended up being just me and Evelyn going wild. My tolerance was abysmal, but one night couldn't hurt—probably.

  Rocher excused himself to go collect more firewood, leaving the rest of us huddled around the fmes. The fire crackled, sending sparks spinning into the night like fireflies. The air smelled of oil and smoke, and my cheeks were already flushed with heat and drink.

  "Here, everyone," Lumiere called, producing a carton of cheeses from her visit to the Aurelian Duchy. "These are hard to find at the capital."

  I popped one into my mouth and sighed as it melted on my tongue.

  "Miss Evelyn, tell them the one about the ring," I said eagerly.

  "A cssic Dastan story," she replied, cpping to get our attention.

  "So—there was one time, I'd pointed out a nobleman's ring and told Dastan I wanted one just like it. Meaning: keep an eye out at the market, right? But next thing I know, the idiot goes and shakes the man's hand—then lifts it right off his finger!"

  Evelyn mimed the theft with theatrical fir, pretending to tug the ring free. It was ridiculous, and I couldn't stop ughing.

  "The look on his face when the guards came after him!" she said between chuckles. "I've never seen him run so fast. He kept making eyes at me, begging me to help. I was so embarrassed I pretended not to know him."

  "Well?" Lumiere asked, fascinated. "Did you at least like it?"

  "That's the best part." Evelyn ughed, shaking her head. "The damn thing didn't even fit! Kept sliding right off my finger."

  Seraphine snorted into her drink despite herself. Lumiere covered her mouth, giggling.

  "That was him," she said softly. "Brave, stupid, hopelessly earnest. I just wish he were here to see the job we pulled on Ramón. He would've loved it—that was exactly his kind of revenge."

  The fire popped, and for a moment, it felt like he was still there—grinning from the other side of the fmes, just out of reach.

  Still smiling, I raised my gss. "To Dastan."

  She clinked hers gently against mine. "To Dastan."

  We drank. The stars blurred above us, and the night seemed to breathe with us—slow and easy.

  From somewhere far away, I heard Evelyn murmur, "He would've liked you, Cire. You're alike in more ways than you think. In fact—"

  Before I could decide whether brave and stupid were compliments, she leaned in, brushing her lips against mine—warm, tasting faintly of wine.

  "You even taste a little simir," she whispered.

  Heat bloomed behind my ears.

  "That's not fair, Miss Evelyn." I pouted, my cheeks puffing. "Now I have to make it fair."

  My words slurred; the world tilted pleasantly as I stood up. Injustice had to be corrected.

  Lumiere and Seraphine froze mid-bite as I announced, with great ceremony: "Now everyone gets a kiss."

  I sauntered over and pnted one squarely on Lumiere's forehead.

  "Hehe. That tickles, Sister." She covered her brow, blushing.

  "Oh no, you're not getting me—ack!" Seraphine tried to back away, but Evelyn caught her by the shoulders.

  I kissed her nose instead. "Gah! Why is it so wet?!"

  Finally, I looked around for Rocher, but he was nowhere in sight. I made a solemn mental note to give him his ter.

  By the time Rocher returned from the treeline, arms full of driftwood, the fire had burned low.

  Evelyn's cup y tipped over beside her; Seraphine was cocooned in her bnket, and Lumiere's breathing was soft and even.

  He smiled faintly. Good. They'd earned their rest.

  He stacked the wood and coaxed the coals back to life. The quiet suited him. After all the noise and excitement of the day, solitude felt like a gift.

  Evelyn's teasing echoed in his mind: 'If you don't make a move soon, you might lose her. There are a lot more eyes on her now. Hell, even I have half a mind to gobble her up.'

  He'd ughed it off then—but the thought lingered. She wasn't wrong. Cire was different now. Each day she seemed to glow brighter, freer. Some selfish part of him missed when he was the only one who saw her that way.

  It had been over a month since they'd bullied her into wearing women's clothes, and somehow she'd made them her own. Even her combat trousers—once purely practical—now seemed to fit her in ways that made it hard to look away. She'd said she'd just grown comfortable.

  He wanted to believe she could get used to him, too.

  He wanted a lot of things—he just didn't know how to begin.

  Snap. A sharp crack from the trees. He turned, heart leaping—then rexed at the sound of a familiar voice.

  "Oh."

  He exhaled, half ughing at himself. "It's just you, Cire."

  I blinked. Two Rochers stood by the fire before they merged back into one. Had he learned a new skill? I had to investigate.

  I drifted closer—too close—and bumped into his chest.

  "Welcome back, Mister Rocher," I said with a tipsy grin.

  Concern flickered in his eyes. "Cire... have you been drinking?"

  "A little." I hiccuped. "We were waiting. You took forever to come back."

  He smiled, weary and fond. "You should be in bed."

  I tilted my head. The firelight traced gold along his jaw. His heartbeat thrummed steady beneath my palm as I leaned closer.

  "You never got your kiss."

  He stiffened. "My what?"

  I stretched on my toes, wobbling, but I couldn't quite reach his face.

  So I did the next best thing—I kissed the warm skin under his colrbone.

  "Cire."

  I looked up at him.

  His brow furrowed—was that not enough? If I thought about it, kisses on the body probably didn't count as much as ones on the face.

  I pressed two more kisses on his chest, firmer this time, long enough to leave faint red marks. I giggled, realizing I'd drawn a little face over his heart. If I couldn't reach his, well—I could simply make my own.

  "Now it's fair," I decred, satisfied.

  "No," he groaned softly, "it's really not fair."

  I blinked. The firelight turned his verdant eyes molten amber. There was anguish in them. Longing.

  "Why?"

  "Because you're doing this—" His voice dropped to a whisper, hoarse. "When I've been trying so, so hard to hold back."

  His jaw clenched—the look of a man fighting a battle he'd already lost.

  "Oh." I tilted my head, trying to piece together his meaning. The motion made the stars sway.

  If it would make him feel better...

  "Then stop trying so hard."

  His breath caught. Slowly, he took my wrist, as if testing whether I'd pull away. I didn't.

  The world tipped again, and his face was suddenly close. Smoke and cedar wrapped around me.

  His mouth brushed mine once—then again. The second kiss lingered, warm and trembling, until my thoughts went soft around the edges.

  My knees buckled, and his arm slid around my waist to steady me. By the crackling fire, our breaths mingled in the dark.

  When he finally drew back, I was left gasping, light-headed and dazed.

  "Cire..." He smiled, eyes full of quiet pain. "Kill me in the morning."

  Then he kissed me again—slow, resigned, as if he already knew he'd regret it.