He blinks. “Then how will I see if a monster is coming at you?”
“Don’t be glib. Look elsewhere until I’m in the water.”
He gazes at me for a moment too long, his eyes darkening, then turns around. “Be quick.”
“I’m doing my best.” I remove Olm’s book from my bodice and place it on the ground, then wrestle with the fabric belt I’ve tied around my chest to keep my ruined yellow dress from falling apart. The harrowing experience in the griffin’s nest and the ride on the phoenix’s back haven’t helped matters. The ends of my dress are singed, and the seams are coming apart. “Do you think Talton has found any clothes for me?”
“Yeah, in between hunting for food and saving your life, I sat with him and we discussed your new wardrobe,” he mutters, though his deep voice carries in the still air. “I told him youmight need more ballroom gowns. You never know, they could come in handy since your social program is so full.”
“Fine.” Finally, I manage to remove the fabric belt and I let it drop to the ground. “I just need undergarments, a petticoat and a dress that holds together. This one is destroyed.”
“I should take your measurements. My tailor will whip one up in no time. I’ll make sure he slots you in his busy schedule.”
“Can you not be sarcastic for a moment?” The last laces are all knotted and undoing them isn’t easy, but I look up when he takes a long moment to reply.
“I’m not sure,” he says eventually. “I haven’t…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen or talked to a human or a fae in a long time.”
“But you have Ardruna and Talton.”
“If not for them, I’d have gone mad ages ago.”
His voice is quiet now, soft around the edges, and I go still, my arms halfway out of the sleeves. He has his back to me, his tall form a shadow. Is it easier for him to admit to certain things when I’m not seeing his face?
“Why did you choose this life?” I whisper. “You don’t even like stories, or so you say.”
“I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. I’m paying for my father’s sins.”
“Your father…” Sedrig told me about this, didn’t he? “He was a gambler, right?”
A slight shake of his head. “No, why? But my mother… I’d have done anything for her. Ending up here was a small price to pay.”
Sedrig must have gotten that wrong. Pulling down my dress, I make sure Olm’s book is wrapped up and protected in it before I place it down on the pebbles and lift my thin petticoat over my head. “When I get back, I can ask after her. I can?—”
“You can’t, and my family’s troubles are none of your business.” He turns around. “I’ve tried?—”
We both freeze.
I’m only in my underpants and nothing else. Exposed. The thought is slow to trickle in, and then with a gasp, I rush to cover my breasts with my hands.
“Roane!” I hiss.
His brows go up, eyes impossibly wide. The color is rising in his pale cheeks again, making his gray eyes glow. His mouth opens without a sound.
With a curse, he turns back around. “Didn’t I say to hurry up? Get into the water.”
My knees shaking, I push down my underpants, step out of them and splash into the river. The water is shockingly cold, stealing my breath, making my busted ribs scream in agony. The cut in my side throbs.
I dip under, scrubbing at my head, then surface with a curse.
The expression on his face, that hot flush… the speed with which he’d turned the other way. Didn’t he like what he saw? Wouldn’t a man want to take a longer look?
A gentleman wouldn’t.
But Roane is no gentleman. So why?
You’re reading too much into this, as you tend to do. Stop it. And why should you care if Roane liked what he saw or not?
Good point. I don’t. Not at all.
