Venom by Fiona Paul

slightly backward at the thought.
    “What if,” Falco continued slowly, as though he were only just piecing together the idea, “you and I do a bit of investigating on our own?” His eyes lit up as he spoke.
    Cass took a step back. She felt her breathing slow and her head clear a little. Even the mist seemed to thin. “The two of us? Together?” Cass tucked an unruly strand of hair back into her bun.
    Falco reached up and yanked the tortoiseshell clip out of her hair, letting the tangled waves fall around her face. “Could be fun, don’t you think?”
    A hot flame coursed through Cass’s blood. She looked away from Falco, hurriedly retwisting her hair up on top of her head. She turned back just in time to see his sketch fall from his pocket and, picked upby the wind, go tumbling end over end across the grass. “Your drawing!” Her lantern fell to the ground, the candle flame blowing out as she ran after the flying parchment and tackled it.
    “So fierce,” Falco murmured, holding out a hand to help Cass to her feet. “I’m beginning to enjoy picking you up off the ground.”
    Cass looked down at the paper in her hand, which had unrolled during its journey across the grass. The moonlight illuminated what he had drawn: a gorgeous reproduction of the gravestone with the doves on top. Cass flipped the parchment over. On the other side, Falco had sketched the rough outline of a woman’s body.
    Cass’s breath caught; she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the figure. She marveled at the sharpness of the knees and elbows, at the soft roundness of the figure’s breasts. The face was still a heart-shaped blank, but the hair looked familiar: it fell in thick, lustrous waves like Cass’s own.
    Falco laughed, leaning in close to Cass. “It almost looks like you’re blushing. Why? It’s not like you’ve never seen a woman’s body before.”
    “You’ve obviously seen more than I have,” Cass said sharply. Her fingers trembled as she handed the parchment back to Falco, trying to look everywhere but at the drawing, wishing he hadn’t seen her staring at it.
Who is she?
She wanted to ask, but the words held fast to her lips.
    “If I have, it’s a shame.” Even in the dark, his eyes were flashing. “If I had your body, I’d stare at it for hours. Days, maybe.”
    Cass sucked in a sharp breath. “You can’t just say things like that. It’s not, it’s not—”
    “Proper?” Falco finished. “Perhaps. I didn’t mean it to beoffensive. A woman’s body is a beautiful thing.” He took ahold of Cass’s hand and twisted it from side to side, opening and closing her fingers. “The human form, it’s a symphony. Tiny interlocking movements that join together in song.” He slid his hands down over her knuckles until he was gripping the very tips of her fingers. “You play a more delicate tune than I do. Have you never noticed?”
    Cass stared at her own hand. She tried to visualize the structures beneath her skin—the bones and muscles, the strange ropelike things connecting the two. It was hard to focus. Falco’s touch was so warm. “I’m not in the habit of staring at myself,” she said, pulling away. “It’s vain.”
    Falco shook his head. “How terrible it must be to be a member of the noble class. So many rules. Such restraint. You must feel like a caged bird, battering its wings against the sides of its golden prison.”
    Cass didn’t say anything for a second. That was exactly how she felt, and he had put it into words better than she had ever been able to do. She repeated the sentence in her mind, intending to write it in her journal when she returned home. But even though it was true, she didn’t want to admit to Falco that he was right. “I’m no one’s pet,” she insisted.
    “You’re not?” Falco raised an eyebrow. The way he was looking at her made Cass feel out of breath. He tucked the bit of parchment into the pocket of her cloak. “Keep it,” he said. “You can hang it in