“Because I want to know you.”
“It is not necessary for us to know each other. I am a warrior of the fae. You are a prince of the elves.” She began walking again, hoping that he would not press the issue further.
“My favorite meal is soup. Any kind of soup,” he told her. “I love how it can heat up all the cold places inside of you as you consume it.”
She shook her head at him. She seemed to do that a lot.
“Cyn,”
“Hmm?”
“What’s your favorite memory?”
“There are too many to sift through.”
“Too many favorites or too many in general?”
“In general.”
Her answers were short, but at least she was talking to him.
“My favorite moment is when I saw you standing in the rain looking back at me,” Thalion admitted shamelessly. His knees still grew weak at the memory of seeing her for the first time.
“Cyn.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever wish you weren’t created a fae?”
“No.”
“Cyn.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like your life?”
“Yes.”
“Cyn.”
“You can just ask the question. I am quite sure I will know who you are addressing,” she told him.
“So there is a wicked-tongued woman inside of you after all,” Thalion teased as he tugged at her hair.
She swung around, her eyes wide and lips pursed. She hadn’t realized just how close he’d been to her.
Thalion held his hands up in surrender. “Forgive me, Cyn. I find it hard to keep my hands to myself when I am with you.”
Cyn looked as though she wanted to slap the smug look off his face but seemed to think better of it.
“Please attempt to restrain yourself, sir.” Cyn bit out through clenched teeth. She turned back and began walking again, resuming her search for the plant. Their plight was continued in silence until Cyn nearly shouted, “Found it!”
Thalion thought he heard a tad bit of regret in her discovery, but if he had, she recovered quickly.
She pointed to the plant. “That’s what she needs.”
“Will you not help me gather it?” Thalion asked, attempting to look as pitiful as possible.
