"Ye're nae tiny. Ye're—" Magnus stopped. "All right, ye're fairly small. But that daesnae make this funny."
"Then why are ye smilin'?"
Magnus realized he was. Despite everything—the fear, the confusion, the way his heart still raced—he was smiling. "Because ye're ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous? Ye're the one who attacked the bread box."
"I dinnae attack the—" Magnus stopped. Started laughing despite himself. "God. We're both ridiculous."
Ada laughed too, the sound bright and genuine in the dark kitchen. And lying there on the cold stone floor with his wife pinned beneath him, Magnus felt something in his chest loosen.Some knot of tension he'd been carrying for days—maybe longer—finally beginning to unravel.
"I should let ye up," he said.
"Aye. Ye should."
Neither of them moved.
The laughter faded slowly, replaced by something heavier. More charged. Magnus became aware again of every point where their bodies touched. Of the pulse beating rapidly at the base of Ada's throat. Of the way her lips parted slightly as she stared up at him.
"Magnus," she whispered.
"I ken. I'm movin'. I just—" He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't know how to finish it.
I just want tae stay here. Want tae memorize the way ye look right now. Want tae stop fightin' this thing between us and just give in.
But he couldn't say any of that. Couldn't acknowledge what was becoming increasingly obvious—that his careful distance, his deliberate avoidance, wasn't working. That every moment spent trying not to think about her just made him think about her more.
That he was falling for her whether he wanted to or not.
Magnus forced himself to move. Released her wrists, shifted his weight off her body. Stood and offered his hand to help her up.
Ada took it, let him pull her to her feet. They stood close in the dim light from the dying coals, close enough that Magnus could see the flush on her cheeks, could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"I really was just comin' fer milk," Ada said quietly. "I dinnae mean tae interrupt yer brooding."
"I wasnae broodin'. I was workin'."
"At midnight? In the kitchens?"
"I got hungry."
"Ye've been avoidin' meals fer three days, Magnus. Dinnae think I havenae noticed." Ada crossed her arms. "Ye've been avoidin'mefer three days."
Magnus's jaw tightened. "I havenae?—"
"Ye have. Ever since we kissed, ye've barely looked at me. Barely spoken tae me except when absolutely necessary. And now ye're stayin' up late workin' so ye dinnae have tae be in our chamber until I'm already asleep." Ada's voice was steady but her eyesheld hurt. "If ye regret kissin' me, just say so. Dinnae make me wonder what I did wrong."
"Ye didnae dae anythin' wrong."
"Then what's wrong? Because somethin' is. And if we're goin' tae be married—really married—then I need tae ken what it is."
Magnus looked at her. At this woman who'd proven herself competent and kind and brave. Who'd won over his people, who'd saved lives, who'd stood in front of a crowd and taught them despite being terrified.
Who'd kissed him like he mattered. Like she wanted him.
"I'm afraid," he said finally.
Ada blinked. "Of what?"
