“Because she made you doubt me. She made you doubt yourself. She made you doubtus.”
My ribs clench…clench. “Whatus?”
He flinches. “TheusI’m still holding onto. TheusI hope we can still be.” He lapses into silence for a moment, as though waiting for me to determine if there’s still a chance for anus. When I say nothing, he presses on in his pursuit of understanding me. “What makes you laugh?”
My mind is such a wild place at present that it takes me a minute to come up with an answer, “Silly things.”
“Nothing that brings joy is silly.”
I carry my hand to my neck and massage my hastily striking pulse. “I don’t think Naeva would agree if you asked her about the time Lach pulled out her chair before she could sit and she ass-planted in front of everyone in a popular Tarespagian eatery.”
He smiles, then sweeps his thumb over the curve, tossing my pulse some more. “Your favorite time of day?”
“Eventide,” I reply with no hesitation. There’s nothing like that moment when the day winds down and the night is just beginning. “What’s yours?”
“In recent weeks, it’s been mealtime.”
“Is your appetite a seasonal thing?”
He stares so steadily at me that I’m suddenly wondering if it’s amething. After all, since I’ve been here, it’s the only time of day we spend in each other’s company.
“What’s one small thing that always brings you comfort?” he asks.
“A candlelit bath. You?”
“My siblings’ laughter.”
Goddess below, that’s sweet… “Your worst trait?”
“Envy.”
This gives my dancing fingers pause. “You?Envy? What is it you envy?”
“It’s not so much awhatas much as awho.”
“Who in the world do you envy?”
“Any man who retains your attention, be they strangers or friends of yours or even my own brother. But especially those with darker, more colorful features.”
My pulse trips as we stare at each other.
“Sofiya’s right,” he suddenly says.
I bristle. “Must you really bring her up at the moment?”
“I’m only bringing her up to prove a point.” When he unfolds his legs, I think he’s about to stand and walk back over to me, but he merely plants his feet wide.
“Which is?”
“That you and I don’t spark, Isla Ríhbiadh.”
Wow. Talk about misreading the moment.
“A spark is too small a thing for what happens when we collide.” His knees fall open a little wider as though inviting me to step closer. “You, Isla Ríhbiadh, have set fire to my kingdom of ice and torched your way into my frozen heart.”
27
ISLA
