She cut that thought off.
Feel the magic, but don't let it feel you—his words during their first real lesson. Master yourself or master nothing.
She returned to the diagram, determined to understand this section before?—
"I thought I might find you here."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The book nearly slid off her knees as she looked up, and she had to catch it with reflexes honed from years of not dropping stolen goods.
He stood at the edge of the firelight, where warm gold met cool shadow. The flames painted half his face in soft light, the other half lost to the darkness that clung to him. How long had he been there? How much had she missed while lost in study? She should've heardhim. She was always hyperaware of sounds, movement, and potential threats. That was survival.
Damn it.She needed to get herself together. He made her sloppy.
"Your library is educational." She hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt, marking her place with one finger. Warmth crept up her neck as she realized how she must look. Curled up in his chair, wrapped in his blankets, surrounded by his books, fire-warmed and comfortable like she belonged here. Like she had any right to his private spaces.
The corner of his mouth shifted. Not quite a smile, but close. That expression she was learning to read, the one that meant she'd amused him against his will. The firelight softened his sharp features, made him look almost approachable.
He moved closer. The temperature dropped, or maybe that was just her awareness of him. The way her entire body tensed with something that definitely wasn't fear. More like how a rabbit might feel watching a wolf approach, except the rabbit wanted the wolf to come closer.
She was losing her mind. That's the only explanation.
His shadows were calmer than usual. Almost relaxed, comfortable in this space, the same way she was. They drifted around him without the tension they carried in court, when he had to maintain perfect control. One tendril reached toward the fire, curling around the warmth like a cat seeking heat.
"You've been spending your evenings here." That low, rough voice that demolished her concentration.
Oh, she was in trouble.So much worse than the magic. Magic might kill her quickly. This would destroy her slowly.
"Well, you said I needed to understand the theory." She gestured at stacked books surrounding her research station, trying to ignore the rapid drumbeat of her heart. "Some of this is starting to make sense. Turns out magical infrastructure has a lot in common with smuggling routes."
His eyebrow lifted slightly. Surprise. The floating candles drifted toward him, drawn by his presence, casting golden light across his sharp cheekbones.
She felt pleased at getting that reaction.
He approached the table. She resisted shifting in her chair. Every step that brought him closer made her hyperaware of the shrinking space between them. Six feet. Five. Four. Her breath wanted to quicken, but she forced it steady.
When he reached her table, he picked up one of the texts she'd set aside. His gloved fingers traced the spine with surprising gentleness. Those hands could drain life with a touch. Watching them handle the book so gently made her chest tighten. He'd been just as gentle during training, his shadows wrapping around her wrists to correct her grip with that same care.
"Graduate-level material." He glanced at her, something flickering in his gaze that caught both the firelight and the blue sconces. Approval, maybe. Or surprise that she was tackling advanced concepts. "Ambitious."
"I learn fast." More defensive than intended. She straightened against the wingback chair, blanket pooling in her lap, her chin lifting the way it did when merchants tried to cheat her. "I understand more than you think. My father always said I had a head for patterns."
She reached for the book in her lap, flipping to the diagram occupying her thoughts. "This section is on junction point stability. The author assumes you know foundational concepts, but if you think of it like?—"
She stopped, suddenly aware she was about to explain magical theory to a being who'd been manipulating death magic for longer than she’d been alive. Heat flooded her cheeks.
Great.Lecture the Reaper about wards. That's not arrogant at all. He's going to think she's an idiot.
But he'd moved to stand beside her chair, leaning down to see what she was pointing at. She could feel the cold radiating from him, catch that familiar scent of winter frost and roses beneath something metallic, like the air before a storm. His presence pressed against her awareness like a hand against her spine.
In the firelight, she could see threads in his dark clothes and count the subtle patterns in the shadows clinging to him.
His shadows brushed her arm, and the contact sent electricityracing up to her shoulder. They felt curious tonight, almost playful. Like they wanted to explore her skin. The fire crackled approvingly.
If she turned her head, her lips would nearly touch his jaw. She could see the sharp line of it in her peripheral vision, the elegant angle where jaw met throat. Firelight and shadow painting him in gold and darkness.
Her breath caught. She kept her eyes locked on the page like it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen, even though every nerve was screaming awareness of his proximity, even though her body wanted to lean toward that cold instead of away from it.
"Explain," he said quietly, and the rumble of his voice this close turned her stomach over. That commanding tone shouldn't affect her like this—shouldn't make her pulse skip every single time.
