But tonight, there was only fatigue. Tonight, there would be sleep. After the day she’d had, the prospect of her bed was tantalizing. Stifling a yawn, Saga decided enough time had passed for her to safely retreat to her chambers.
But then, she heard it—a faint groan of hinges from the bottom of the stairs.
Someone had entered the tower—was slowly climbing the stairs. Saga’s gazedarted desperately around the tower room in search of a place to hide, but the room was unfurnished, open and exposed.
Trapped, she was trapped, no exits to be found. She was cornered, just like that day long ago…
The door pushed open.
And Kassandr Rurik stepped inside.
A ragged breath escaped her as panic quickly morphed into anger. “What are you doing here, Rurik?” she demanded.
“I came to show you something,” he said. He leaned his long body against the stone wall with irritating nonchalance.
Gods, the man had scared her witless, and for what? Surging forward, she pushed against his chest, but he was unyielding. “Then show me tomorrow. Don’t sneak up here and frighten me, you arse!”
Ruriktsked, an infuriating brow cocked up in amusement. “I did not want to wait.” Two large hands wrapped around her shoulders, turning her. “Look,” he said.
But it was impossible to focus when he was behind her. Saga’s eyelashes fluttered as Rurik’s large body crowded her toward the window. “Look,” he repeated.
“What is it?” she croaked. The window looked out over the castle grounds and Sunnavík beyond. It was a clear night, the sister moons glowing brightly—Malla, a bold crescent, while Marra was soft and round.
“A full moon?” she guessed.
“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
Everything felt hazy and dangerously hot, but Saga forced herself to search the horizon. She spotted it in the farthest reaches of Sunnavík in what appeared to be the city’s harbor—a pulsating orange glow.
“A fire?” Saga squinted, leaning closer. “At the harbor.” She gasped. “Is ityourship?”
Rurik chuckled, the sound rumbling straight to her toes. He released her shoulders, and Saga blinked. It was then that a curious scent met her nostrils.
Smoke. Kassandr Rurik smelled faintly of smoke.
Saga whirled, staring up at him. “You.”
He watched her with a strange, unreadable look.
“You burned your boat!” she burst out. “Why—what—weren’t you due to leave in the morning?”
“Yes. Is very sad indeed. Rovgolod yells much and pulls out hair.”
“You…you’re mad!”
“I am preferring…creative.”
Saga’s brows drew together. “Why did you show me this?”
Rurik’s gaze traveled around her face, his expression unreadable. “We are having secrets, both of us,” he said softly. “I like this thing.”
Saga blinked, reality swiftly spilling through her mind. This close, and lit by bright Marra, Saga could see more of him than she ever had before—a shallow scar on his cheek, the way one eyebrow arched just a touch higher than the other.
She gripped his elbows to steady herself.
Rurik brushed a tendril of loosened hair back from her face, the tips of his fingers whispering along her skin. “Earring today,” he said softly, touching the dangling bird. Rurik leaned in, his breath heating her cheek. He was so near, so very close, so deliciously large.
“I am staying,” he whispered, “until I am satisfied with unfinished matters.”
