My eyes widen. I’ve never heard that expression before. Mom would probably die of shock if she heard it, and Father… even ‘Arandur’s knickers’ is too disrespectful in his book.
“Aha! I win!” Alexis exclaims, then points at Reid. “You’re paying!”
“What’s going on?” I glance between her and Caeo, who’s wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, his fair skin now bright red.
“Reid bet that I couldn’t get Caeo to spit out his drink,” she announces. “I suggested a contest: whoever got one of you to spit out their drink first wins. Loser pays for dinner.” A smile stretches across her face.
I glare at Reid. “Is that why you gave me that horrible drink?”
“Stop complaining. You kept it down, and now you get a free meal.” He swallows the rest of the corn brew, clinking the glass hard against the table when he finishes.
As if summoned by the talk of payment, the barmaid finally returns with our food—some kind of meat stew with the traditional bread rolls sitting on top. At home, they’d have been served on the side, with each diner bumping theirs with their neighbor’s before eating, but this arrangement seems too messy for that. Meanwhile, Caeo dodges another of the barmaid’s attempts at physical contact by leaning closer to me while rolling his wet sleeves up.
My eyes drift to the curves of his forearms as they twist with his motions, and my voice sticks as I speak. “I can dry those for you. I know an incantation for that.”
“Incanting’s prohibited outside of the Academy’s grounds.” He pushes his hair out of his face. “To protect Haven.”
Right.“Guess you’ll have to stay wet then. So what did Alexis do to make you spit your drink?”
He leans even closer, mere inches away, his breath warm against my cheek. “Ask me again later.”
I bite back a giggle, feeling flushed from his proximity. Spoons drop to the table with a clatter, one of them bouncing into Caeo’s lap. He offers it to me, and I take it. As my fingers brush softly against his, a smile forms on his lips. A similar tug pulls at my cheeks.
The barmaid storms off before Reid finishes digging out his coins to pay her.
Chapter 4
Caeo
“Hey, Caeo, can you get that barmaid back? I think she’s ignoring me.” Alexis’s chipper voice easily breaks through the boisterous chatter of the tavern. The Kettle Maker’s more crowded than usual tonight, thanks to all the Academy students arriving in town. All eager to get the term started, so they can someday join the elite ranks of the Order of Incanters. Must be nice to have that kind of direction.
“Nope, not happening.” I lower my tankard of ale. The last thing I need is Mabel feeling me up again, and Alexis hasn’t really gotten me in the mood to whore myself out for her benefit.
“I’m not paying for a second round,” Reid says.
“Pleeease,” Alexis whines, batting her eyes at me.
I ignore her, focusing instead on the beautiful enigma beside me. I’ve never had to spend this much effort on a girl—that line about claiming mewasridiculous, but that shit’s always worked before. In my experience, women rarely care about conversation, always rushing into something more exciting. But Ellie… It’s as if she doubts my interest is real, though I can’t imagine why. Sure, she’s a little awkward, but there’s this whole personality peeking out that I’m dying to glimpse.
Like now: she’s clearly struggling, but forcing herself to push through anyway. And the fact that she’s not throwing herself at me like all the others gives me hope she might actually be someone who sees me for once.
She startles at my attention, probably because I caught her staring at my throat again. I’ve never been one for propriety, so I’m used to that reaction, but her gaze—so timid, but with this longing slipping through—ignites a spark within me unlike anything else. Her sudden movement splashes the stew from her spoon onto her rosy lips.
“You got some on your face,” I say, resisting the urge to wipe it away myself.
“I do?” She reaches for the wrong side of her mouth, and I can’t hold back anymore.
“No, here.” I brush the mess from the soft skin of her lips with my thumb. Her cheeks redden at my touch, and that single dimple on her left peeks out again, like it has every time she’s smiled. It’s happened enough that I’m certain she likes me, and my lips curl into a matching grin.
Minus the dimple. I don’t have one.
A second later, she’s staring at her bowl as she fills another spoonful. Hesitating, again.
“Do you know what kind of meat this is?” she asks.
I sink back in my chair, the heat of the moment dissipating. “They never say. Could be horse for all I know.”
Ellie’s jaw drops, and her spoon falls into her bowl.
