“Surprised.” I blink. “That’s never happened before. Drayke’s been trying to make me sit quietly for three centuries.”
“Maybe you needed better motivation.”
“Maybe I needed better company.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. Her breath catches. She turns to look at me, and in the fading light, her eyes are dark and warm.
“That was almost smooth.”
“I have my moments.”
“You do.” She’s smiling, soft and real. “More than I expected.”
“Is that a compliment? I can’t tell with you.”
“It’s an observation.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Take it how you want.”
I want to kiss her. The urge hits so hard, it nearly knocks me over—to close the distance between us, to taste the smile on her lips, to find out if she tastes like fire.
But it’s too soon. I know it’s too soon. She’s healing, opening up, learning to laugh again. I won’t ruin that by pushing too fast.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask instead.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She stands, offering me her hand. “Walk me back?”
I take her hand. Don’t let go for the entire walk to her quarters.
Neither does she.
The bet continuesfor the next three days.
She makes me read a book—one of Auren’s tactical treatises, because “light reading” isn’t in her vocabulary. But she sits with me while I suffer through it, quizzing me on chapters, laughing every time I get a question wrong.
“The defensive formation is called a shield wall, not a ‘turtle huddle.’”
“Turtle huddle is more descriptive.”
“Turtle huddle is not a military term.”
“It should be. I’m starting a petition.”
She throws a pillow at my head. I catch it and throw it back. Somehow we end up in a pillow fight that leaves both of us breathless with laughter and gets us kicked out of the library by an extremely unamused Auren.
“Worth it,” she says as we flee down the corridor.
“Completely,” I agree.
I make her swim in the underground lake. No sea serpent, but plenty of bioluminescent algae that makes the water glow like liquid starlight. She floats on her back, staring up at the cave ceiling, and whispers that it’s like the sky fell into the earth.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.
“You’re beautiful.”
The words slip out. She turns her head to look at me, something unreadable in her expression.
“I mean—the lake is beautiful. The algae. Very glowy. Very?—“
“Rurik.”
