“You did most of the work.” He grins at me again, making my stupid heart patter. “We make a good team.”
His hand shoots out to grab mine, and I nearly pull it away before giving in to the urge to touch him. My fingers get notched between his, and a delicious warmth spikes up my arm. I can’t control the blush that races over my skin. My breath hitches as Roshan leans toward me, his knuckles wedged tightly with mine as if he doesn’t want to let go, either.
Everything fades away except for the six inches of space between us. He’s so close that I can count the gold speckles in his eyes, see the frantic beat of his pulse at his throat, inhale his smelted iron, spice, and bergamot scent. Six inches become four and then two, and it’s all I can do to continue breathing.
Is he going to kiss me?
At the very last moment before our mouths meet, he shifts andgrazes my cheek with his lips, leaving heat and embers in their wake. For a second, I see regret in his eyes, but maybe I’m imagining it. I blink and flush, then jerk back and busy myself gathering up my tongs and hammer while fighting the sting of rejection coupled with the urge to burst into tears. I’m over this almost kissing, this hopeless push and pull between us that is destined to go absolutely nowhere. Looks like the astrological vertex got this one abysmally wrong.
“Come with me, I want to show you something,” he says quietly.
My throat tightens. “I have work to do.”
“Have you gone outdoors today at all?” he asks, and I wrinkle my brow, not even sure what time of day it is. “I take that as a no. Come on. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
I hesitate. A part of me wants to go with him, and another is still licking its wounds at his slight. But being with him is like an addiction that I’m still trying to kick. Having some of him is better than none at all. I’m aware of how desperate and pathetic that makes me... but I find that I don’t care.
What’s one more bad decision between friends?
After cleaning and packing up my tools and making sure I’ve doused the kiln, I follow Roshan outside and across the square. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
He easily navigates through the crowds, and once more, I am stunned by the wide variety of people making up the inhabitants in this underground city. I can’t help smiling at the children playing in the square who wave as we walk past. Roshan whisks a bag out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Give these to them.”
“What is it?”
“Boiled sweets.”
The happiness on their young faces makes my heart ache as the children reach out to catch the candy and laugh with delight, finding joy in something so simple. I can’t help also feeling sad, becausesomething this inconsequential shouldn’t be such a momentous thing—treats and moments like these should be plentiful. And yet these people live underground to try to find some measure of security, and their children don’t get to see the sun. While I don’t know if I fully trust the motives of the Dahaka, I do feel for these refugees.
Life in Coban isn’t easy... but at least it’s free.
I let out a loud laugh when they pilfer the rest of the bag with wicked giggles, and after a moment, I realize that Roshan’s eyes are on me.
“What?” I ask.
“Your whole face lights up when you laugh.”
I don’t know what to do with that, so I stay quiet and reinforce the armor on my much-too-impressionable heart.
We ascend to the surface, and I wonder at the fact that no one stops us. Then I realize that Roshan likely arranged all this in advance. At the top, there’s no wailing sandstorm like the last time when we arrived, only a pinkish sort of haze over the barren, dusty red earth. This time I notice the neat border of jadu shards that power the illusion.
We climb into the waiting wagon hitched to a pair of horses. If there’s a road, I don’t see it. I frown and look over my shoulder. “Are we allowed to leave? Or are we going to be arrested for stealing this?”
Roshan winks at me. “You call it stealing, I call it borrowing.”
“Ro!”
He grins and pumps his fist. “You called me Ro. I can’t believe you remembered that from so long ago. By the ashes, have you been obsessing about me all this time, my lady?”
I scowl at my slip. “I’ll be sure to tell them your nickname for your eulogy when we get shot on sight. Turn around and let’s go back before we’re caught.”
“Live a little,” he says. “Enjoy the view while it isn’t hidden by a storm.”
What view?
But my mouth falls open as we crest a hill and I take in the changing landscape around us. A shadowed path of sagewood shrubs and prickly cactus cuts through the red terrain, winding into the distance. The horses don’t seem afraid, so I’m guessing they’ve walked this way before. That eases my tension a bit.
