“You’ll prove it, then.” Kaya declared. “That is all I can say to you, in return. And while I appreciate the sentiment, it will take a bit more for me to trust you again. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
Ilias lifted his eyes from the book he was holding, fingers stilling over the golden lettering on the worn spine. “If I can gain Fury’s trust, I am most confident that I will be able to gain yours.”
A brief smile, matched with narrowed blue eyes flickering in his direction again. “I believe I might like an apology for being compared to the likes of your hateful horse, as well.”
“I apologize. But asentitledas the both of you are—” He felt the icy chill of her shadows before he saw them uncurling at her shoulders, a subtle warning. “Too soon for jokes, I understand.”
Kaya shouldering past him, back in the direction of their cabin, was as much a yes as anything. He bit at the smile that was forming on his face, his humor-filled gaze following each of her wild movements as they walked up the hill.
He was afraid to admit to himself that it was a relief to have her talking again. Even if it was curt words spoken only out of obligation to reply, it gave him enough hope to continue.
“We begin your training tomorrow. With your powers.” He stated, following her.
Kaya gave a grunt, shoving open the heavy wooden door and stepping into the dimly lit sitting area. She tossed her books into a disorderly pile, not once glancing at them as she moved towards the washroom.Ilias still followed close behind, the proximity grinding a nerve inside her that had her eyes twitching at the corners. She tried to ignore his impenetrable stare, filling her mind with stories and history, but it all felt scrambled.
She’d been reading rather much about G’Illach.
Once home to a race of woodland faerie, small and precarious creatures described asSantigha.Or “of the tree”. They made tunnels in the Drikiera mountain range, turning the stone into underground villages complete with vaulted chambers that housed their collections of lost items. They were harmless in the sense that they would hurt no one, but the Santigha were once known to be thieving little creatures until the village head of G’Illach made them promise to only take what had been forgotten and to return items that were remembered.
They agreed.
And now Kaya was waiting for one of them to return that damned book she’d thrown at Ilias’s head. She wished that she still had the thing so that she could chuck it at him again, seeing as he lingered annoyingly by the door to the washroom. As if he hadn’t already said enough and wanted to talkmore.
“Are you wanting to watch me undress, Captain? Or were you hoping to share my bath water?”
Ilias looked as if he had just awoken from a dazed stupor, blinking rapidly as she removed her tunic. She was bound, thank the gods, but just the sight of her midriff was enough to have him grunting and turning away. She slammed the door.
“Your mother told me that you were kind and modest. I’m beginning to think she lied to me.” He called, striding towards the kitchen. For a moment, he merely stared at cooking supplies, his mind entirely blank. He felt ridiculous. Foolish. That the smallest sliver of flesh had his blood hot and cheeks flushed like some boy deep in the throes of puberty.
Utterly deplorable. And entirely unprofessional.
Ilias shook his head and drew in deep, regulatory breaths. It helped nothing.
After a moment of berating himself enough to calm his hormones, Ilias lit the stove and began preparing their meal.
He heard her grumbles through the paper-thin walls and turned to listen closer as she began arguing with herself. It wasn’t until he heard a loud thud that he turned on his heel and took a step towards the washroom, a bud of rage sprouting in chest—the sudden urge to bust the door down and rush toher aid was overwhelming. He pushed it down, gritting his teeth as he spoke.
“Everything alright in there, princess?”
“Mind your gods-damned business.” She shrieked.
“I’m sorry—”
Another garbled hiss and the washroom door swung open to reveal her, standing there dripping water across the floor, her body haphazardly covered with a drying cloth. “Iwasn’ttalking to you.” She sounded winded, her wet hair plastered to her face at one side. “One thing you should know about this gods-damnedcurseof mine is that they rarely shut up.”
“And youarguewith them?”
She gave him a humorless smile. “Try living with them for one day and then you might understand.”
Ilias tried not to watch as she walked out of the room and began sauntering down the hall. Or perhaps she was just walking. He couldn’t tell—he couldn’t think, really. Any coherent thought flew out the window the moment he caught sight of her perfect, moon-white ass as she walked down the hall.
He expected for her to stay holed up in her room as she had for the past couple of weeks, but as soon as she dressed herself, she returned and took a seat at the dinette. He stiffened at her presence, overly aware of the feeling of her eyes on his back. Ilias continued cooking in silence, his heart thundering and mind racing because he couldfeelher eyes on him—watching his every move.
“What do you want from this life, Ilias?”
Her voice—her question caused him to go still.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
