He ran his thumb over her pulse. It skipped. Dare he read into that? Or was it just another sign he should ignore because it couldn’t possibly mean anything?
He asked, “Why are you doing this?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“What is this all about for you?” Nikias’ hair brushed his jaw as he leaned in even more. “Why do you want to be the Head of House Mitis so badly? Tell me it’s not just so you can have an excuse not to marry me.”
“Nikias…” Her eyes darted down to their hands. Beneath the bruises, the faint scars of his past religo lines could be seen. Shelooked back up. “If I don’t, then they’ll try to make me marry you or disown me.”
Nikias’ stomach dropped, but he couldn’t tell her just how much that terrified him too. “I wouldn’t let them.”
She sighed. “Look… if you… If you meant what you said, then you should be on my side. If I win, then I have options, so if…” Her eyes dropped to his scarred wrist.
“If?”
But Aimilia didn’t elaborate. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m a commander who graduated at the top of my class, but in the years I’ve had my position, I’ve never once had the chance to prove I deserved it. I especially won’t let everyone think I only got my commander’s cloak because of my closeness with Gavril and didn’t deserve it.”
Her words were a painful echo of another woman’s, but Nikias could only focus on one word.
“If?” Nikias repeated again, pushing himself up slightly, braced against the arms of his chair.
“If I win, then I remain in control of my life and prove my worth.” Aimilia lifted her chin.
Nikias moved even closer. He slid his hand to cup the back of her neck as he leaned in, stopping himself right before their lips touched. Aimilia went completely still. Nikias dragged his eyes up from her lips to her eyes and he whispered, “That’s not what you meant. There was a second if.”
Aimilia’s hands braced against his shoulders again, but not pushing him away. “I… I told you. If I win, I prove my worth.”
She was a truly terrible liar.
“Aimilia, even when you were fighting for your life and position, you were thinking about me. You woke up, worrying about me.”
Aimilia’s eyes closed. “You’re reading into it.”
“You don’t hate me.”
“Nikias—”
“Are you going sit here and tell me that you still hate me when moments ago you were brushing your fingertips over my wounds? Are you going to act like you hate me when it’s only been a few weeks since you tried to kiss me? When you clung to me after the funeral?”
Her cheeks were a vibrant pink and her warm breath brushed against his skin. “You—you were right. I was sad and lonely and you were there.”
He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You’re not disgusted by me. You’re not repulsed by me.”
Aimilia’s voice trembled. “You know full well I’m not.”
“Then what do you feel for me?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Nikias shifted closer, bracing his hand on the cot as he leaned down. There was only so much distance left. If he kissed her, would she kiss him back? Should he have thrown caution to the wind and kissed her back in that little town?
But Aimilia turned her head.
The sound of porcelain clattering had Nikias jumping back a second after Aimilia turned her head, especially as Aimilia hissed. Nikias looked down to see he’d knocked over the cup and pot, sending the hot liquid onto the cot. He scrambled to grab the tray and move it out of the way while Aimilia kicked the soaked blanket off her before the hot liquid could do any more damage.
Nikias set the tray on the ground, but the tea was unsalvageable. At least pretending to fuss with it gave him something to do to distract himself.
She’d turned away.
