“There was a scraver attack,” I say.
His eyes flare a little, and he lifts a hand as if to press it to my cheek. He stops, though, hesitating. “May I?”
My heart thumps again, and I nod.
When his hand lands against my face, I want to lean into it and close my eyes. I want to fall against him and inhale his scent.
But then I remember everything that’s happened since he left, and a wave of regret washes through me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I turn my face away.
His eyes flicker with concern, and he lets go. “I’m sorry, Jax,” he says softly. “I’m so very sorry it was so long.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say.
He grimaces. “Every time we’re apart, I feel as though we need to begin again when I return.”
That makes my gut clench—because I feel the same way.
But then he lifts a hand to brush a tendril of hair out of my eyes, and the familiarity of it nearly makes me shiver.
“Want to go shooting?” I say. “I’ve gotten rather good.”
He smiles, his eyes lighting with familiar challenge. “I wouldn’t mindseeingthat—but I’ve been in this armor for four days, and I desperately need a bath and some sleep.”
Tycho says this like maybe it’s a prelude to his departure—but he doesn’t move, and I don’t either.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. This time when he lifts a hand, I don’t wait for him to ask. I just catch his wrist and bring it to my face. I close my eyes, lean into the weight of his palm, and inhale.
Then my eyes snap open. “You really do need a bath,” I whisper.
He laughs and playfully shoves me away. But I catch his arm, and we tussle, just for a moment.
His eyes flare as he yields, letting me grip his forearm to pull him closer.
“You’re stronger, too,” he says, surprised.
“I know.”
His eyebrows go up. “And not atallcocky about it.”
That makes me laugh. Clouds above, I missed him, too. I stare into Tycho’s brown eyes, and suddenly it feels like no time has passed at all.
But with that feeling comes the memory of our last night together, the way we had to hide.
He left you, Sephran said.
Regret twists in my gut again.
“You know,” I say, “I have my own rooms in the Shield House. A bed and a bath and everything.”
I don’t mean for the words to come out like a challenge, but they do. Theyare. It’s not quite an invitation, but my meaning is clear, and I watch a flare of interest spark in his eyes, just like when I mentioned shooting.
When the smile fades from his face, I expect him to refuse. He probablyhasto refuse, if he returned with the king. He has duties, I’m sure. And of course there’sdiscretionto think of.
But Tycho shifts a step closer, until we could share breath. “A bath and a bed?” he says. “You should have said something sooner.” His voicehas gone quiet and low, speaking right to my core. “Is that an invitation, Master Jax?”
His brown eyes are gold in the fading sunlight, and I can’t look away from his mouth. I swallow, my strength forgotten. I could melt into a puddle right here. “Yes, it is, Lord Tycho.”
He smiles. “Then lead the way.”
