Once I return to the house, I can sense movement in the bedroom. Tycho must be dressing. Arming. Whatever.
I sigh again.
The cabinets yield biscuits and hard cheese, along with some dried beef. I’m almost hesitant to load them on a platter, because I rememberthe food we shared in the boarding house, and this seems like a paltry substitute.
There’s still water in the kettle, so I light the stove. When I turn away, he’s right there behind me, and I draw a sharp breath. “Clouds above, you move like an assassin—”
“Get used to it.” And then his lips are on mine, and it’s a good thing he’snotan assassin, because I can’t breathe, I can’t think. One of my crutches hits the floor, but Tycho has a grip on my waist, his hands strong and secure against me. He’s buckled into all of his gear, and again I find leather and steel and weapons in every place my hands seek skin and warmth. But none of that matters because I’m drowning in the taste of his mouth.
This will make it harder, more painful, but right this moment, I don’t care.
Especially when his teeth graze my neck and his hands slip under my shirt to find my waist. Heat has already pooled in my belly, and I’m clinging to his armor.
“Can you stand?” he whispers, and it nearly takes me a full minute to realize he’s asked a question.
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, my head nodding almost without me being aware of it. My heart is racing along in my chest, but I unwind my fingers from the buckles at his shoulder.
“Good,” he says, and then he drops to one knee.
I lose any sense of myself. I should stop him, but his fingers are so warm, and his mouth is so wicked. My fingers twist in his hair, but I have to grab hold of the table. There’s a good chance my knee will give out, but I’m more worried my heart will take flight. Tycho’s hands are firm against my waist, holding me upright, holding me close. My vision fills with stars, and when I cry out, my hands grip tight to his shoulders. He supports my weight like it’s nothing.
He eventually straightens, tugging my clothes back into order as herises. His hands don’t let go of me, and I realize I dropped the other crutch at some point. My breathing is still shuddering, loud in the space between us. His brown eyes are so intent on mine, seeking, searching.Seeing. No one has ever looked at me like that. No one has ever made mefeellike that. Like I’m a reward, not a hindrance.
I blink, and my eyes blur. My chest is tight again.
“Are you all right?” he says softly.
I nod, slowly.
He leans in to kiss me. Lightly, tentatively.
I don’t kiss him back. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight.
I expect him to sigh, to pull away, to tell me that this was meant to be hisgoodbye. That he has obligations and he’s already delayed them long enough.
But he doesn’t. His arms are tight at my back, and he holds me for the longest time. He holds me for so long that I rest my cheek against his shoulder and think it would be acceptable for time to stop right this instant, for my world to shrink down to nothing more than this.
Eventually, he speaks, and his voice is very low, very soft, just for me. “I will do my very best to return before your father is released, but it may not be possible.”
I frown and sniff and begin to pull away, but his arms tighten. “Just listen,” he says, and I go still against him.
“I will leave you with silver,” he continues. “If I have not returned by the time he is released, it should be enough to pay for passage to Ironrose Castle—”
I snap my head up. “What?”
He grimaces. “Things are rather tense with the king right now, or I’d hire a carriage this very instant. But I don’t want to leave you with no escape—”
“I can’t—I can’t just come to Ironrose Castle—”
“Sure you could.”
“I don’t even speak the language!”
“Syssalah is much more prevalent in the castle than it ever was before. Prince Rhen himself has gotten rather good. You wouldn’t be at a disadvantage.” His eyes spark with mischief. “I wouldn’t lead off with how much youhatehim, however.”
I can’t stop staring at him. I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.
The smile slips off his face. “If you’d like,” he says finally. “You don’t have to.”
