“What for?” She pushed away the wet strands of hair clinging to her face.
“The storm.” It pinged off the tarp; thundered on the plains, sending billows of steam off the cooling ground. He couldn’t see anything outside of the cart except gray. They were in their own private, freezing world.
She only smiled.
“Listen, if you were responsible for the rain, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, and fast. Are we doing this?”
“What?”
She lifted up the two paper cups of custard. Her teeth clacked suddenly as she shuddered, a chill running through her. She was even paler than normal. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms and warm her up.
“You look pretty cold.”
“Yeah, you just know you’re going to lose,” Cassia taunted him. With a snort, Aevrin made himself settle cross-legged onto the floor beside her, their backs to the wall of the cart and their shoulders nearly brushing. As he'd predicted, the edge of the cart was already damp.
“What are we betting?” he asked.
“Betting? You can’t introduce a bet this late in the game, Riveker,” Cassia informed him as he dug out a bundle of hard biscuits he’d bought to use as spoons.
“Who’s scared of losing now?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“F…fine,” Cassia said with another shudder. Starting to pull one of the paper lids off the cup, she paused and breathed hot air on her hand instead. “What do you want if you win?”
“You sure you’re up for this?” Aevrin asked. When she silenced him with a look, he gave the wager a moment of serious thought. His standard bet with his siblings was for chores, but he wasn’t about to tell Cassia she had to muck the cockatrice pen when she inevitably realized the superiority of his ways.
Thing was, there wasn’t much he wanted. Excepther.
Cassia was off-limits, but a wager wasn't everyday life. A wager was different from courting a woman. A wager was a one-time thing. Meaningless, even. Nothing more than a game.
“A kiss,” Aevrin said, before he could wonder if it was a bad idea.
“Akiss?” Her eyes were wide. Suddenly he was sweating despite the cold. Had it been wrong to ask? He might be pressuring her. It wasn’t too late to pretend he was joking, was it?
“Standard bet,” he said as casually as he could. “Well, what d’you want?”
“What can I ask for?”
“What do youwannaask for?”
“Um…” Cassia shuddered again. “A dry pullover.”
Clearly, her mind was in a different place than his. It was stupid to feel disappointed about that, but his stomach tightened unpleasantly all the same. Next time, Aevrin swore to himself, he’d keep a warm wool blanket in the cart. Then she wouldn’t have to wager for dry clothes.
Should he change his ask? Had he made her uncomfortable? But she hadn’t protested.
She pulled out his pint of cherry drudd custard and handed it to him. Aevrin balanced it and the biscuits in his left hand.
“Last chance,” he told her, holding out his right hand.
“I’m not scared.”
“Then shake on it, Miss Cassia Clarek.”
She took his outstretched hand and pumped it once, solemnly, then pulled out her sad, pathetic, plain custard. She took a biscuit from him. Aevrin watched as Cassia scooped into the softening custard and offered him a mouthful of white velvet cream. He stared at her in surprise for a moment, then leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the biscuit, not even half an inch from her fingers.
Their eyes met as the sweet flavor pooled around his tongue. An ache pulsed deep inside him.
“Aevrin!” Cassia squealed, then burst out laughing. She let go of the biscuit, leaving it to dangle in his lips, and clapped her hand over her mouth, laughing uproariously.
