I glance at Tycho and then at the closed door near the hearth. “Who else shares this?” I whisper.
He follows my gaze. “No one.” He frowns a little, then opens the other door, and I see the edge of a bed beyond. “These areyourrooms, Jax.”
I fall back a step, and my shoulders hit the door.
There’s no possible way I’ve been given this space to live in. It’s too big, too grand. My eyes travel over the walls again, scanning the hearth—which I can see now has a grate on the other side that allows it to heat the bedroom as well. Through the doorway, the bed seems larger than I could ever imagine needing, and I think there’s a wardrobe as well.
The door is pressing into my back now, which hurts a little bit from what happened with the scraver—but I can’t move. I don’t deserve any of this. This is a room for a skilled craftsman, not a village blacksmith.
“I thought . . . ?I thought I’d have a cot in the forge,” I say, and my voice is rough.
Tycho comes to stand in front of me, his eyes searching mine. “Prince Rhen wouldn’t offer you a position and leave you withoutlodging, Jax.”
That makes me frown. I don’t know what to say.
“Do you want to explore?”
I shake my head briskly, because I’m content to stand here against the door until my heart stops pounding.
Tychotsks, then reaches out to take hold of the bow across my chest. He gently gives it an upward tug. “Up and over,” he says, like I’m a toddler learning to dress for the first time.
It makes me feel sheepish, and I smile.
Tycho feigns a gasp as he pulls the bow over my head, mindful of my crutches. “Asmile?” He reaches for the quiver strap next. “That was easier than I thought.”
My eyes flick to the room—therooms—at his back. “This . . . this is too much,” I say, and the words come out like a secret.
“It’s not,” he says, but his words are just as weighted. He tugs at the quiver strap.
I let go of a crutch to pull the quiver over my head myself. “You don’t need to disarm me.”
“Well, someone needs to. You can’t stand here barring the door all day. I do need to report to the castle atsomepoint.”
His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but his tone is light, and I can’t tell if he’s teasing or being serious. A little of both, I think.
When I don’t move to disarm any further, Tycho reaches out, his fingers hooking under a strap of the breastplate that sits by my rib cage. I’m tense and ticklish, so I draw a sharp breath and bat his hand away.
To my surprise, he bats me right back. Like his tone, I can’t entirely tell if we’re playing. The movement is a little too aggressive, a little too belligerent. When I shove at him, he catches my wrist, and we scuffle.
Then my back hits the door, his weight pinning me there, and it draws a different kind of gasp from my lips.
His fingers go still, one hand keeping hold of my wrist. The room is so quiet that I can hear him breathing, and I suddenly can’t tell if he’s pinning me or if he’s holding me.
His thumb brushes against the base of my hand, and it sends a bolt of warmth through my body. There’s nothing aggressive in the air now. Tycho is close enough that I forget this massive room that I don’t deserve, I forget the fact that we’re on the grounds of Ironrose Castle. My world has centered on nothing more than the warmth of his brown eyes and the weight of him trapping me against the door.
Tycho reaches up with his free hand to push a lock of hair out of my eyes. My breath catches when his fingers tug at the strands, tracing along my cheek to tuck the hair behind my ear.
“Jax,” he says roughly. “What you said. When we were riding. I’m—”
A sharp knock sounds at the door at my back, and I jump amile.
He swears under his breath and draws back. A girl speaks in Emberish from the other side of the door, and Tycho responds in kind, then looks at me.
“Molly has delivered boiled water for your bath,” he says. The spell is broken, and any roughness has vanished from his voice. He ducks to fetch the crutch I dropped, then holds it out for me. “I’ll bring it in. You really should disarm and eat. I’ll stoke the fire in your washroom so the water won’t go too cold.”
I’ve moved aside so he can open the door, but my thoughts are still tangled up in the feeling of his thumb against my hand, and I’m barely processing what he’s saying.
Tycho keeps talking as he carries steaming buckets past me. “I know you’ve picked up some common words from the soldiers, but I’ll leave a list with the kitchen girls that might be helpful. You’ll find clothes in the wardrobe, too. Master Garson will show you to the forge tomorrow. He’ll have you start with horses, because Prince Rhen sent word that you worked with the soldiers when they were in Briarlock. I’ve heard you around the camp. You know a bit of Emberish when it comes to shoeing horses, right?”
