“Thirty.”
“Thirty-four,” she corrected with a smirk. “There are four in the alcove, which, if you look at the floor plans of the castle, is still considered the ballroom.”
Cason laughed. “Are you going to make me count the crystals in the chandelier next?”
“Two hundred and forty-eight.”
His head snapped to her. “Seriously?”
She snorted as she faced him. “No, I just wanted to see if you’d correct me. I guess you weren’t burning hot enough to need to count that high.” She stuck her hand toward him. “Brela.”
Cason smiled and took it, her grip cooler and softer than he expected, though he could still feel the callouses against his own. “Did you wait to tell me your name until Serill had found our other friend and could see this exchange?”
He didn’t turn to acknowledge Boelyn and Serill leaning against the pillar near the hallway, pretending to be interested in the tile floor, though Brela’s eyes darted that way with a wicked grin.
“Maybe.” She tipped the rest of her wine back and leaned forward to set the cup on the windowsill next to his. Cason had to swallow to cover his gasp. He had assumed there were more scars than just the ones along her arms, but the ones on her back… four hells. Brela grunted. “I prefer you staring at my backside or my chest. They’re just scars.”
He raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are very observant.”
Or she had eyes on the back of her head.
“I have to be if I want to compete with you, sun-blessed protector,” she replied quickly, twisting as she hopped and sat on the windowsill to face him. How she could do that maneuver in a dress was beyond his comprehension.
“How did you know?” he asked. “About any of it—the fire, the senses, and that I was listening to your conversation?”
“Don’t forget the storm magic,” Brela added, laughing as his eyebrows rose again. “Oh, please. You basically radiate power, refuse to showanyof your ink, and these earth-kind basically piss themselves when you walk by them.” She grinned and nodded toward his hands. “Also, your sleeves bunch up when you fold your arms, which is all the time.”
Cason dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head. “You’re better at my job than I am.” He sighed. “I went after Warley and Ripley that day in Averlyn, but they got away.”
Brela’s jaw tightened slightly before she patted the space to her left, inviting him to sit. “I heard.”
“They shouldn’t suspect you, though,” he said, sitting down. He raked a hand through his hair. “They think the Night Terror set them up, but I couldn’t stop thinking that because I failed, they’d somehow find you.”
She swallowed, her face slightly pale. Quickly, she threw her mask of calm back up. “Sothat’swhy the prince said you’ve been out of sorts. And here I was hoping it was my very visible figure through this dress.”
Cason felt his cheeks warm. “I… you are beautiful, that’s not… with those men out… sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity and I absolutely don’t need you to protect me,” she growled, despite her face of calm.
He cursed his big mouth. “That’s not what I meant.”
A few men dared to walk along the hallway by their window, scrawling strength tattoos along their arms. They completely ignored Cason, glares trained on Brela with snarls of disgust.
“Whore.”
If Cason hadn’t been so stunned, he would have snapped at them. He would have thrown fire and burned through their skin in an instant.
Heshouldhave been trying to protect her, even if that wasn’t what she wanted. No one should talk to a woman like that and get away with it.
He began to channel that anger, curling his fists as he summoned the flame from his chest.
But then a tap. And another. A procession of taps on the windowsill he sat on. He glanced to Brela, her chin held high as she met the glares of the men. Sweat clung to her neck and rolled down her left arm, heated by the fire that was burning off his skin. But on the windowsill, tucked in the small space between their legs, her fingers were tapping in rhythm.
For him.
And as he began counting each click of her finger on the wood, the roaring fire wasn’t just dying down. It was extinguished. Faster than it had ever been drowned before.
She waited until the men were out of earshot before whispering, “Serill was right. We’re going to set this forest on fire if we aren’t careful.”
