One night," Ky says, "doesn't seem like much to ask."
I don't speak. He moves closer and I feel his cheek against mine and breathe in the scent of sage and pine, of old dust and fresh water and of him.
"For one night, can we just think of each other? Not the Society or the Rising or even our families?"
"No," I say.
"No what?" He tangles one of his hands in my hair, the other draws me closer still.
"No, I don't think we can," I say. "And no, it isn't too much to ask.
