I breathe again, forcing steeliness on myself like a warrior donning armor. But it’s an act, a disguise. Inadequacy haunts me like a completely justified ghost.
“Kaia and I will muddle through” is Jocasta’s only response.
“You don’t have to ‘muddle through,’” Flynn says. “Ask them to stay a few more days, and get yourselves some people to help you. People you can trust.”
“If Griffin and Cat thought we needed help, they would have suggested it. They obviously have more confidence in me than you do.”
Flynn’s jaw hardens. “You’re putting words in my mouth again.”
“Am I?” Jocasta smiles vaguely and without humor. “I guess you talk to me so little, I’ve started to invent.”
Flynn freezes, staring at her. Emotional conflict makes him shut down completely. With Jocasta, anyway. He’ll get into a roaring good fight with me.
“Cat and Griffin—they listen to people. Take advice,” he finally says in a low, almost toneless voice. “Cat was Griffin’s advisor at first. In a way, she still is.”
If you ask me, Griffin’s the sage one, but Jocasta eventually nods, conceding the point. “I’ll think about it,” she says.
“Thank you.” Flynn seems to relax. “Get yourself a guard as well,” he adds.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I could take care of you better,” he mutters irritably.
Jocasta grips the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Or like she might heave the whole thing up and over in a fit of rage. One or the other. I can’t tell. When Flynn realizes what he just said, or rather how it could be taken, he pales until his shock of bright-red hair is his only color.
“I mean…” He clears his throat, looking up, around, anywhere but at her. “I mean you’d be twice as safe with a warrior guarding you. Me. Or someone else.”
Jocasta slowly uncurls her fingers from the table. “Someone else?”
Flynn frowns. “I’m leaving today. I won’t be here. You fought well in the arena, but we were all there. That doesn’t mean you’re ready for this.” He waves his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “Everyday danger? The insidious kind? It doesn’t always come at you with a sword and a snarl. You might not see it coming.”
That vague smile is back on Jocasta’s lips, the one that speaks of utter disappointment. “So that’s what you want? Some man following me around day and night? Sleeping outside my bedroom door? Taking walks with me? Guarding me in the bathhouse?”
Flynn doesn’t answer. He’s too busy grinding his molars to dust.
“Well, I won’t do it,” Jocasta says. “I’m in a fortified castle and don’t plan on leaving it. There are plenty of guards, high walls, and beyond them, there’s a constant, swelling crowd that seems to genuinely love us. I’m not in any danger.”
Flynn scoffs. “There’s always danger. And it’s most dangerous when you don’t expect it. You can’t let your guard down, Jo, especially while we’re away.”
Jocasta pushes the soggy, herb-soaked cloth farther down the table, wiping up a spill. When there’s nothing left to keep her busy, she finally looks up at Flynn.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.” She shifts from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. “I certainly do.”
Flynn leans in, his hands braced on the table again. Their eyes meet. “You do?”
Jocasta swallows so hard I can see it from here. Softly, she says, “You know I do.”
Flynn’s gaze drops to her mouth. Jocasta’s lips part, and her tongue darts out to wet them. He targets the movement with his eyes, tilting his head slightly and suddenly looking like a hungry and very focused predator. She sways toward the man she’s loved for so long, slowly closing the distance across the worktable. Flynn doesn’t back off for once, and I start to feel like the worst sort of thrill seeker, because my heart is pounding for them, and I can’t look away.
Do it. Kiss her. Claim her. It’s all she wants.
Flynn’s head drops a slow inch. Jocasta tilts hers up.
This is finally happening!
Bellanca charges into the kitchen through a side door. Flynn and Jocasta jump apart. I jump, too, my hand flying to my chest where my heart starts kicking like a deranged donkey. Everywhere Bellanca goes, she goes like a bloody tornado. A bloodyflamingtornado.
“What in the Underworld is that awful smell?” Bellanca waves her hand in front of her nose, looking at Flynn and Jocasta like it’s probably them. Then she storms over, peers into Jocasta’s bowl, and scowls. “What’s that?”
