Rurik stepped closer, his piercing green eyes coming into view. Usually the man had a cunning look to him, yet there had always been a playful edge to it. Now, all traces of amusement had vanished. And in this light, with shadows pooling beneath his eyes and nose, he had a dangerous look about him.
“I could ask whatyouare doing here, Saga, in deep of night. But I think you again would deceive me.”
Saga swallowed, eyes dropping to the map clutched in Rurik’s hand. This was one tunnel she’d deliberately left off the map. Though she knew Rurik had seen Ana’s note when he’d left it for Saga:Asla Tower, tomorrow 20th chime,that had been days ago. How had he known she’d be heretonight?
Saga’s gloved hands curled into fists. “Were youfollowingme, Rurik?”
Rurik lifted a shoulder in a maddening shrug. “Your face is pulsing.”
Fire ignited in her chest, licking up her spine. “You’re like a gnat!”
He seemed to puzzle over the word for a moment until a smirk slid into place. “You want for me to bite you? I am not opposed.”
Saga let out a shaky breath as her mind’s eye showed her the image: his teeth sliding along her skin, dangerous, yet teasing.
Rurik’s low chuckle broke her from her reverie. “I see you are not against this, Winterwing. Shall we try it?”
“Someone ought to put a muzzle on you,” she muttered, trying to ignore the fact that he’d just called herWinterwing. “Must I remind you, we’redone, Rurik?” Saga bit out. “You have your map, and I have my…” Her voice trailed off as the man stepped nearer. He was tall, impossibly broad, and in that moment, she was overtly aware they were all alone.
“We are not done,” Rurik growled, waving the crumpled parchment in the air. “Give to me the complete map.” His hair was mussed, day-old scruff on his jaw, and Saga realized for the first time, Rurik’s usual casual refinement was gone. The man was just a little undone.
A prickle ran down Saga’s back, settling low in her belly.
“How many tunnels you have left off?” demanded Rurik. Herspine hit the wall as she stared up at him. Backlit by the torch, his silhouette seemed impossibly large. And yet she was not afraid so much as…curious.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What is wrong is missing tunnels!”
“No,” she murmured, watching him. “There is something else.”
“There is not,” he snapped, green eyes flaring.
Saga frowned, waiting expectantly.
“Winterwing,” he said, voice softening a touch. “Always, you are seeing too much.”
Saga pressed her lips together, hoping her silence would spur him on.
“I am disappointed to discover your deception.”
“It was only fair,” she retorted, pushing back against the twinge of guilt. “You made a bargain with me while I was befuddled by that tonic! I’d never have agreed to this had I been clearheaded.”
“Why?” he demanded, his anger stirring the air.
Saga stared up at his shadowed face, too flustered for anything but the truth. “Th-the tunnels are my only ally. The only place where I am truly safe in this castle.” To her horror, she felt emotion burning up her throat. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You are right, I do not.”
Shocked at his admission, Saga swallowed.
“But,” said Rurik, irritation plain in his voice, “we had agreement, and I have little time left.”
Surprised, Saga tried to recall when, precisely, the Zagadkians were leaving Íseldur. Was it this week already? Part of her burned with guilt at having deceived Rurik, but the part of her that needed an exit—that needed somewhere safe—fought with vigor.
“Locks,” whispered Saga, the idea settling in the forefront of her mind. Rurik had clearly been sneaking into places he was not meant to be. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”
Rurik watched her with preternatural stillness. “Yes.”
