Thio sees me coming back. “Now, there’s no iron. How do we fix that?”
He’s asking me directly, giving my brain a more immediate problem to solve.
We need iron for the spell.
How do we get it?
My body twinges, but I shake my head, shake it and shake it, no,no. Another way. He isn’t talking about that.There has to be another way.
What other components do we have?
Herbs. Herbs—
“I can summon Nick,” I mutter, my lips trembling. “I can—I can have him—” My eyes meet Thio’s, a burst of lucidity. “Can we use any components on the field? Not just on our side of the field?”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. “You know, they didn’t clarify that.”
“So everything’s fair game?”
He shrugs.
“I can send Nick to steal the iron from over there.” I point at the dividing wall, behind which Narbeth and Thompson are working on their own spells.
Thio’s face blows into a wide grin. “Go for it, baby.”
I pick up the herb box and he starts sketching out a circle on our wall. The cube’s still spitting at us, but most of it seems to be hitting the wall itself or patches of grass on either side.
Thio’s face bends in concentration as he draws some conjuration runes.
“Have dinner with me.”
He stiffens. Glances over his shoulder. “What?”
“Have—” I twitch. “Have dinner with me. A… a date.”
Gods, I’m flayed open. This morning has done nothing but peelback my layers until all I have left is pathetic neediness, and I know it’s painted on my face.
Thio lowers his arm, chalk pinched in his fingers.
I’ve seen him smile so many times. So many different flavors of it, I could write a thesis on the dozens of ways Elethior Tourael’s lips move.
But this smile? It puts all the others to shame. It’s joy and relief, it’s ecstasy and an unspoken, vibrantfinally.
“Tonight,” he says through that smile. “I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.”
I start to agree, but— “Wait,Iasked you out. Shouldn’t I plan it?”
Confidence sparkles in his eyes. “Fuck no. I know exactly what I want to do with you.Toyou. Let me?”
I should fight him more. Just, like, set a precedent for not being a huge pushover when he goes all—him.
But I nod, pretty sure there are heart emojis circling my eyes. “Okay.”
He beams. “Good.”
“Good—oh no, gods, we aren’t doing that again.”
He laughs. And nudges the herb box in my hands. “Call Nick so we can win this thing and get out of here.”
