He drew his fork slowly out of his mouth. “What do you want to know?”
“Something. Anything,” I fumbled. “Tell me something fun.”
His face fell. “There’s not much fun in my life.”
“Sure there is. You have all the dragons anybody could ever want. You have everything you could ever ask for. Everybody likes you. You’re smart, in the top of your class—when you want to be.” His eyes widened as I spoke, and I realized I was heaping compliments on him.
He laced his hands over his stomach and lifted his feet, crossing them on the table. “Well, you already know plenty, then. Let’s not talk about me.”
“You came here,” I said, voice sharper than I’d intended. “You want me to prattle on about myself, about how grateful I am that you let my dragon hide here, mooching off of your family’s fortune? Well, I won’t.” My fork clinked against my plate as I stabbed another bite.
His blue eyes flashed as I spoke, then he uncrossed his ankles, lowered his feet, and leaned forward, fingers still linked across his middle. “That’s not what I want, Ari.”
Echoing in the silence was the question I couldn’t voice…Then what do you want, Rush Covington?
I stiffened. “But somehow I feel like this is all a cruel joke, and I’ll wake up one day to find out you’ve turned Myth in.” I couldn’t place why I was so uncomfortable. Why suddenly I felt the need to snap at the boy who’d known Myth’s secret all semester and yethadn’tsaid a word. In a quieter tone, I said, “You don’t have to tell me your deepest secrets, just…your favorite holiday or cake or something.” I fixed my eyes on the dark crumbs on my plate.
His expression never flinched, never wavered, but his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my palms sweat.
“When I was eleven, my father took my brother and me to his favorite gentlemen’s club and told us it was time we learned to be men. He poured whiskey down my throat and taught me to play poker. Reg was already good at it—he’s good at everything—and he could hold his liquor by then, but I couldn’t. I vomited on myself, and everyone laughed. That night, my father bet my first dragon, Terramon, and told me to win or I’d lose my dragon. I’d always hoped to bond with Terramon when I got older, but I lost him that night.” A muscle in his jaw tightened.
My brows pinched as Rush spoke. “I’m?—”
“Don’t say sorry. I learned that night that anything I value is a liability, and I can lose it like that.” He snapped his fingers. “So I learned to play poker, better than all of them, and I learned to put on a face no one could read. If I’m always smiling, then it’s impossible to know what I’m really thinking.”
I nodded, too shocked to reply.
“And my favorite holiday is Armistice Day,” he continued in a lighter tone, “because every year, my mother and I would come here, and the weather was always warm, and my father would remain at the estate until after the holiday, conducting whatever sordid business he pleased. And our cook, Gretta, always made the best cake in the world on Armistice Day.”
“What cake?” I whispered, struck nearly silent by his confession.
He squinted at me. “That kind of proprietary information comes at a price. You must first share something about yourself.” Rush leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.
My cheeks heated, and I stared at my lap. “You know enough about me.”
Rush laughed, a sound that tugged at the corners of my own mouth. “All I know about you, shovel girl, is that you’re stubborn and half-crazy. Tell me what made you so prickly. I told you what made me an actor.”
His words thrummed my nerves like a harp. I swallowed and met his gaze. “My father gambled away every bit of my family’s living, leaving my mother, sister, brother, and me to live in complete squalor. And to make it even worse, my mother is old-fashioned and berated me for working what she called men’s jobs. All she did was knit her stupid scarves while I scraped us up enough to eat. And my brotherstillthinks he can win back what we lost by gambling. He joined a gang, and he believes he’ll rise to glory.” My hand on the table curled into a fist. “When Pa died, I told myself I’d never gamble, but every time I look at Myth, I feel like I’m playing the biggest game of chance in the world, and I hate it.”
Rush’s blue eyes drilled into me like stakes driven by a hammer. “For the record, I think Myth is a risk worth taking.”
For a long moment, I let his gaze hold me in place, as if the world around us was spinning and if I looked away, I’d lose my balance.
Too soon, he stood up. “Well, Arivelle Mireaux, I’ve had a lovely evening.” He bowed, his blond hair falling slightly with the motion.
I stood, hating how much I wanted to run my hands through his hair. I curtsied. “It was nice meeting the real Rushland Covington.”
He smirked. “You still don’t know my favorite kind of cake. It’s a little bold to say you know me.”
“Then tell me. I answered your question.”
We’d both stepped closer, and my entire chest lit with heat, despite the cold room and the snow now falling softly outside.
“Strawberry.”
“Mm,” I muttered, fighting a smile. “I like chocolate and you like strawberry. I guess we can still be friends.”
“Is that what we are?”
