“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for my arm where Titus gripped it on the final point.
I don’t offer it to him. “I’m fine,” I say. Although the flesh there is a little sore, I doubt it will bruise. Titus was a lot gentler with me than he could have been.
Ronan doesn’t press the issue. “You did well today.”
I can hear in his voice that there’s more he wants to say. He wants to talk to me again. He wants to touch me again.
He misses me. It’s been more than three weeks since our dinner on his balcony, and he misses me.
The realization pulls at me. It draws me in; it makes me take a step closer to him.
No.“Are you doing that?” I ask, alarmed to feel myself moving forward. “Is that your magic?”
Ronan is perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“That pull. Is it you?”
“There’s a pull?”
“You can’t feel it?”
Ronan’s laugh is hollow. “I didn’t say that. But I’m not doing anything, magic or otherwise, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You can’t influence emotions? Only feel them?”
“No, I can’t influence emotions. Gods, imagine if I could. It would make a lot of things easier. Unfortunately, all I get to do is know what everyone’s feeling all the time with no ability to understand why or how to change it.”
“But the way that light magic feels. That’s something, right?”
His eyes snap to mine. “How does it feel?”
I scowl at him. “You know perfectly well. Like a warm glow. Comforting, inviting.”
“Ah. Not everyone experiences that. But some do. Do you think it’s my magic pulling on you somehow?”
“I don’t know,” I say, withdrawing a step.
“Tell me when you figure it out.” His response is unusually curt, so much so that I think I’ve been dismissed.
I begin to bow.
“Wait,” he says, sighing. He holds his forehead in his hand in frustration with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to influence you with my magic, I promise. But if you think it’s making you act in ways you don’t like, I’ll continue to keep my distance. If that’s what you want.”
It’s not what I want. I know it as soon as he says it. I don’t want to walk away from him now, but I know that I need to.
Not because of the plan, but because I need to figure out what the fuck is going on with me.
“I don’t—I just—ugh,” I try to say. “Just for a bit longer.”
“For as long as you need,” he says, and he lets me go.
Two days later, I watch from the stands as Quinn advances to the sword-fighting final with ease.
Adria faces more of a challenge with Titus, but even his height advantage doesn’t help him as she defeats him 5-3. At least it’s her closest match yet, so I’m not completely humiliated.
The week that follows is the tensest since we arrived. Adria and Quinn take every opportunity to antagonize each other, to the point that I’m not sure we’ll make it there with them both intact. It’s only their joint arrogance at wanting to humiliate the other in front of a huge crowd that stays their hands.
I gift Zara a bottle of Nithyrian red for saving my life and spend some time watching tournament events with her on days she isn’t busy with Guild business. She’s about the only person willing to talk to me with Larus gone, Adria preoccupied with Quinn, and Ronan off limits for my own sake. I don’t talk to her about him. Instead, we discuss more of her life in her homeland of Eki.
