We both stood where we were for another moment before simultaneously moving, me toward my bag, him toward the door.
“I’ll just go figure out those flight paths.” He gestured outside.
“Yes, I’ll be here. Making lists. Very important lists.”
He left, and I sank into one of the chairs at the table, pressing my hands to my burning cheeks.
We were going to share a bed.
For sleeping, I reminded myself. We were partners being practical about limited accommodations. Nothing else.
The fact that my hands were shaking as I pulled out my notebook had nothing to do with anything.
He returned a bit later, and I was grateful I’d been able to focus my scattered brain enough to make a list.
He scanned it. “I’m sure we can find what you need in the area.”
I nodded.
We washed at the sink and left the cottage, finding everyone bustling about.
“Let’s help,” I said, and he nodded.
While he strode toward where they were setting up the bonfire. I found Willa and Quinn preparing a big pot of stew. Someone else was forming rolls, while a few men were peeling potatoes. It might not be much, given the drought, but I could already tell we’d eat well.
“What can I do?” I asked.
Quinn handed me a knife and a cutting board, pointing to a big pile of vegetables. “Can you help us prepare these for the stew?”
“I’d be glad to.”
For the next hour, I chopped vegetables alongside the others, learning the rhythms of village life through their conversation. Who was courting whom. Whose child had recently shifted into their dragon form for the first time. The ongoing debate about whether old Samuel’s prize rooster was actually magical or just unusually smart.
“So,” Willa said, her tone too casual as she drizzled butter over the rolls, “how are you finding married life?”
I focused on the carrots I was chopping. “It’s been educational.”
Quinn laughed. “Educational. That’s one word for it.”
“Raoul is very knowledgeable about dragon history and territorial politics,” I said. “And the weather archives are extensive. Truly impressive record-keeping.”
“Uh-huh.” Willa’s eyes sparkled. “And I’m sure you’ve spent lots of time discussing historical record-keeping.”
My face heated. “We have, actually. The archives date back three hundred years, and the notation system is remarkably consistent?—”
“She’s deflecting,” Quinn leaned close to whisper to Willa, a smile teasing her lips.
“I noticed,” Willa whispered back.
I chopped carrots.
Across the square, Raoul was helping Sebastian and a few men and women set up tables and build the bonfire. I absolutely was not watching him lift heavy timbers like they weighed nothing. Or noticing how his muscles moved under his tunic. Or thinking about how those arms had felt wrapped around me when we kissed.
Professional partnership, I reminded myself.
I looked up to find both women watching me with knowing smiles.
“What?” I asked.
