I’ve missedthisTycho.
But much like when we were traveling with the soldiers, I sense that there’s still a guardedness in him. It’s softened now that we’re alone, but I’ve begun to realize that it’s not about me at all. It’s more than just gossip or discretion, despite what he says.
He’s so accomplished and capable that I always have to remind myself that Tycho’s cool reserve is really just a different type of armor he wears. A different way of protecting himself when his strength and weapons aren’t enough.
“You look so serious,” he says. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re beautiful.” I trace a finger across his lips. “And your accent is thicker here.”
He’d started to blush, but at that, he blinks. “Is it?”
I nod, then stretch languorously, because my limbs keep threatening to force me into sleep against my will.
His eyes follow my movement, filling with heat, and I watch his throat jerk as he swallows. His hand tugs on my hair, just a bit harder this time.
My own resolve isn’t so strong. If he keeps doing that to my hair, I’m going to start unlacing his trousers.
“I won’t be gone long,” he’s saying. “If I can, I’ll turn back at once. I’ll depart the Crystal Palace the very instant I deliver the message.”
If I can.I hate that he’s always beholden to someone else’s whims.
I brush a thumb over his lips again. “Four days out and four days back, right?”
He nods. “Promise me you’ll go to Prince Rhen if the soldiers cause problems for you.”
“I will,” I say breezily.
But I won’t.
Tycho isn’t fooled. “Master Garson, then. Promise me, Jax.”
I try to ignore the tightness in my chest as I remember the soldiers who glared and muttered when I was sitting on the wagon this morning—or the ones who spit at us in the stables. But Tycho doesn’t need to carry my worries with him. He’s got enough of his own.
“I’m no stranger to rough travelers,” I say. “Andsomeof the soldiers were friendly. I rather liked Sephran and Malin. Kutter, too. He was an officer, wasn’t he?” I cast my gaze at the ceiling, trying to remember. They tried to tell me, but I couldn’t keep the words for all the ranks straight. I just remember the insignia on his shoulder.
“A first lieutenant,” says Tycho.
“And Malin speaks some Syssalah.” I think of the way he’d tease Sephran—and me too. I smile. “He knows all the profanity, anyway. But at least I won’t be completely alone.”
Tycho is quiet for a moment. “Well, you won’t see Malin until I get back. Prince Rhen doesn’t want me to travel unguarded, so he’ll be making the journey with me.”
“Oh.” I’m glad Tycho won’t be on his own, but I can’t help the flicker of disappointment. It’s stupid, because I hardly know Malin—but he spoke my language and he wasn’t a total ass who wanted to string me up from a tree, so right now, he’s practically my best friend.
“You’re disappointed?”
“A little.”
Tycho’s eyes flick up, just a bit, and this time he gives my hair a not-quite-gentle tug. “Oh. Well. Sorry.”
A new note has entered his voice, and I can’t quite parse it out. When I finally do, I almost can’t believe it.
I shove myself upright and grab hold of his wrist. “Tycho.”
He stares at me, his eyes in shadow. “What.”
“Are you . . .jealous?”
“No.”
