“Dunno. Rancher blood, I guess.”
He pulled back a little with her still in his arms. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Cassia tilted her head up and their eyes met. For a moment they were both silent, searching each other. His mind sputtered with half-formed useless thoughts, likeyesandfinallyandI oughta-andis she-andare we really-. Their faces were mere inches apart. He could see the lines and flecks of gold in her eyes. He could see a dimple on the side of her lips so faint he’d never noticed it before. Aevrin barely dared to breathe. He didn’t want to ruin anything.
Cassia slowly rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Her mouth was soft and sweet and warm.
Aevrin’s whole body went hard, his mind blanking. For a second they were frozen like that, mouths jammed together. An ache of need roared up in him. He tightened his grip around her waist, blood pounding, but Cassia dropped instantly back down to the flats of her feet.
“Now we’re square,” she gasped.
“Youkissedme,” he breathed, wide-eyed. Her expression faltered.
“I… I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me, I just…” Cassia sputtered. “That bet.”
“Cassia,” Aevrin said hoarsely, desperate. He tightened his arms on her but she took a step back, then another, hurriedly, lifting a hand to her lips. He leaned forward, wanting to closethe distance, but she was widening it. Upset. She might have kissed him, he realized, but she didn't want it.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“I’m the one who suggested it,” he reminded her. That damned bet.
“Can we forget it happened?” Cassia begged, with so much emotion it broke his heart.
“If that’s what you want,” he told her quietly. “I’d rather remember it, though.” He couldn’t pretend it had felt anything short of perfect.
Why had he ever tried to stop himself from falling for her? It was as stupid a proposition as trying to fly by jumping off a cliff. He wasalwaysgoing to fall.
The new hope he'd had, the feeling of euphoria at having Cassia in his arms and her lips on his, had been so short lived. Mere moments, really. The crash still hurt something awful.
“I just…” Cassia turned away.
The back door slammed.
“Aevrin?” Gramma Prisca bellowed.
“...Yeah?” he called, his voice a little off. His head spun. He couldn’t take his eyes off Cassia. He didn’t really understand what had just happened. It had been going so well. Hadn’t it?
She was turned away from him still, a hand clamped over her mouth like she’d done something unforgivable. Maybe to her, she had. Maybe she thought it was a betrayal of that man who’d left her in the mountains…
“Come quick,” Prisca shouted. “You gotta help carry Sorven inside.”
Cassia
Shewassavedfromhaving to explain herself, but at what cost? Aevrin sprinted to the back door as Cassia followed with her heart in her throat.
Pushing outside, she saw Sorven in the distance. He was upright, which seemed like as good of a sign as she could hope for. The eighteen-year-old hopped towards them on one leg, his face screwed up in pain, his arm around Sathuel Riveker’s shoulders.
Cassia froze next to Gramma Prisca on the porch, hugging herself and watching as Aevrin sprinted towards his younger brother, churning through the muddy pasture. When he reached them, Aevrin dragged Sorven’s other arm over his shoulder so that Sorven was supported between the two men.
“What happened?” Cassia asked.
“Fell off his duck,” Prisca said. Cassia was taken aback by the fear in the woman’s voice. Gramma Prisca’s face was drawn tight, her hands trembling. Cassia knew Prisca loved her boys, ofcourse, but she hadn’t expected the tough old woman to show so much of it on her face. Taking a gamble, Cassia offered her hand. Prisca looked at it in surprise, then took it and squeezed it hard, her eyes back on Sorven.
“You hit your head?” Prisca hollered as Sorven drew closer across the yard, one hop at a time. Cassia could see his whole right side was covered in the mud he’d fallen in.
“No, ma,” Sath called back, as Sorven focused his attention on getting back into the house and Aevrin carefully guided him. “Just his ankle. He was too heavy for her to fly. It was the mud that got ‘em; Cobrid slipped and spilled him.”
“Thank you, Saints,” Prisca whispered. “Cassia, go fix sandwiches for Sath and Sorven. They’re gonna have to go to the healer’s, I bet.” Cassia nodded and ran back inside to do as Gramma said. It was good, feeling that she had some way to help. That she was more than a useless spectator. She put extra onions on Sorven’s, wanting to make sure it was just how he liked it.
She emerged from the kitchen with two parcels in hand. Sorven now sat in the dining room with a blanket around his shoulders. His muddy hurt leg was propped up on another chair.
