This time, when I finally spar with him one-on-one, I'm shocked to realize he's actually…good.
Really good.
In fact, during a blindingly fast combat sequence, when I dig an elbow into his side and try to maneuver around him, he sweeps my legs out from under me, knocks my arms when I try to catch myself, blocks my instinctive attack, and pins me in a brutal hold.
We're both trying to catch our breaths as I study him. Baelfire whistles low nearby because this is the first time any of them have managed to actually pin me without cheating.
The Nightmare Prince’s galaxy gaze is consuming and intense before he leans down to whisper against my ear. Although he’s not wearing his shirt or jacket, his sweet leather scent mixed with sunlight and clean sweat is tantalizing.
“Anything you ask for, darling, I will become for you. If you want a weapon, use me. If you need air, breathe me. I will shield you from the pain in your past. All I ask in return is that you fuckingtell mewhen these memories are haunting you.”
I close my eyes, focusing on his heartbeat against my chest.
I’ve memorized all of their heartbeats. Four unique, steady lullabies I can’t get enough of.
“You can’t protect me from memories, Crypt.”
He nips my ear. “No? Watch me.”
Someone clears their voice nearby. When I realize it’s not one of my quintet members, I crane my neck to see Ross, who is averting his gaze as he waits to talk to me.
In his defense, the way Crypt has me pinned is almost inappropriately possessive.
“Instead of merely cutting off his hand, I should have run him through,” the Nightmare Prince mutters.
His brutality gives me butterflies.
“Your mistake,” I grin before raising my voice to a normal level. “Need something, Ross?”
“You and your quintet missed breakfast, my lady—Maven,” he corrects. “I saved some prepared enchanted plates so that you all may still eat. You deserve a far greater meal, of course, and I apologize that it’s not worthy of?—”
He’s starting to babble. If I don’t say something soon, he’s going to end up pissing off one or all of my matches. They’re testy each time he shows up, which is almost annoyingly often. I’m pretty sure the only reason they aren’t telling him to fuck off right now is because they hope this will get them out of more training.
“Thanks. We’ll be at the Great Hall soon,” I interrupt Ross.
He scurries away from the glares of my matches as Crypt finally releases me. Once I’m on my feet brushing grass off, I notice Everett’s thoughtful frown.
What is it?I ask telepathically.
Do you think he acts like that around you because his third eye saw that you’re a saint?
I make a face. He’s sold on this whole sainthood thing, and I’m starting to think the others might believe him. But from everything I’ve heard of saints—namely, that they’re kind, selfless, nomadic humanitarians who travel the world doing great deeds, praising the gods, staying celibate, and leading boring-ass lives?—
No.
I’m not a saint. Even if I was selected to become one as a baby, which I doubt, I’m a fucking revenant now. If I met a saint, I’m sure they would try and fail to exorcise me.
We head to the Great Hall, with Silas on my left and Crypt on my right, each holding one of my hands. They all keep finding little ways to touch me, and I’m really fucking glad that whatever creeping unease remains of my haphephobia is barely noticeable around them.
No one else is at the Great Hall as we sit around one of the tables. Not even Ross, though he seems to have left all of this food steaming on platters. I don’t recognize much beyond fruit, scrambled eggs, and some bread, but Baelfire lights up when he takes in the display.
“Fuck, yes. I’m starving. Here, try this, Boo.”
He picks up a piece of bread slathered in green stuff and offers it to me.
“Hell, no. The last time you fed me weird green shit, it was revolting. I’m nauseous just thinking about it.”
“I promise I will never make you eat Jell-O again,” he laughs. “This is avocado toast. You’ll like it.”
