“And this,” she said, eyes drifting over me, “is exactly what Joren meant by ‘the face.’”
I raised a brow. “The face?”
She nodded, biting her lip to contain another laugh.
“The one you give me when you’re… thinking things.”
“Am I?” I asked lightly.
“Oh yes,” she whispered.
The smile I gave her then, I felt it spread through me like heat.
I moved toward her, slow, deliberate, until my knees brushed the mattress and her breath hitched just slightly.
She tilted her chin up.
I leaned down, hand bracing on the mattress beside her, mouth near her cheek…
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
We both froze.
Then Joren’s voice, desperate, echoing, doomed:
“ATLAS. THE GOAT JUMPED.
IT IS ON THE LOWER ROOF.
IT IS SCREAMING MORE.
I THINK IT’S… ASCENDING.”
Caelira collapsed backward onto her elbows, dissolving into laughter so hard she nearly fell sideways. I stood very still for three long seconds, then I laughed too, sharp, incredulous, half in disbelief that this was my life now.
“Gods,” I breathed, shaking my head. “He’s going to be unbearable for weeks.”
She wiped tears from her eyes.
“We should… probably help.”
“We should,” I agreed, though I made no effort to move yet.
She looked up at me again, softening.
Warm.
Open.
And just like that, the smile on my face deepened into something quieter.
“Before we face the goat,” I said gently, “we should clean up. The courtyard is going to be worse than Joren described.”
Her smile softened into something warm enough to unmake me.
