“Am I boring you, Nya?” He rolled onto his stomach, chin resting on his hand. “I would say I could leave, but I’m going to guess Varax would throw a fit if I suggested it so soon.”
She pushed playfully at his bicep, ignoring the hard tension of the muscles beneath her palm. “No, I never said that. You’ve just been quiet today.”
“Hm, have I?”
“Morgen.”
He didn’t like it when she pushed like this, but she couldn’t help it. She had tried to talk to him plenty, but he’d barely said anything until now. He became closed off and quiet like this when he was in pain. Which, to be fair, she was realizing was the case most of the time, but she had begun to be able to read him well enough to know when it was worse.
He sighed softly, sitting up, palms pressed against the dirt behind him. He was wearing a sleeveless tunic that was halfwayundone at the top, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. She pretended she didn’t notice and that looking at him didn’t make her feel like she was halfway on fire most of the time. If she wasn’t such a coward, she would ask if it was the same for him.
“It’s my birthday today,” he said after a moment, still not looking at her.
Her lips parted, and she exhaled slowly. She understood enough to know this was not a happy day for him. Not in the slightest.
His fingertips brushed against the scar at his throat. “When I was ten years old, as a birthday ‘gift,’ my father decided to test how well my superior healing abilities would work on myself.”
“Are you saying he…he was the one who did?—”
“Yes, he slit my throat. I left my room that morning because I was a child and an idiot, and I thought, surely, he won’t torture me today.” He laughed bitterly. “I choked on my own blood for nearly an hour before I could breathe normally, and I didn’t make the mistake of thinking he gave a damn about what day it was ever again.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. Her face felt cold, and barely suppressed rage was making her shiver.
His jaw rolled. “You look at the scar a lot. I figured today was as good of a day as any to tell you how I got it.”
Her breath caught. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I just?—”
“I don’t mind,” he cut in abruptly. “I never have. You don’t look at me with pity…more like you want to hurt whoever did it.” He chuckled dryly. “Perhaps I like it when I see a little violence in your eyes.”
Her stomach dipped at the words, at the low tone of his voice, at the heat she swore was suddenly simmering in his eyes, despite what he’d just told her. They stared at each other for a little too long, until Morgen inhaled sharply and got to his feet, offering her his hand.
“Alright, a swim it is.”
She took it, the familiar callouses on his palm and fingers scraping against her skin. He let go once she was on her feet and they meandered over to the creek. When they reached the smooth, gray stone at the edge of the water, she paused, glancing down at herself.
She was wearing light canvas pants and a woven shirt. Not really the best clothing for swimming, though she did have a shift and shorts beneath the clothes. They were technically undergarments, but if she didn’t want to swim in her clothes, she had no other options.
Morgen was already pulling off his tunic, though he left his pants on. She tugged her clothing off too before she could think twice about it again. Except that he had definitely not been expecting her to do it, because as soon as he turned back and saw her, he froze.
“You…” His throat worked. “Won’t you get cold?”
She shook her head. She was trembling again, but this time, it wasn’t from anger. Still, she kept her voice level, almost bored, when she replied, “It’s boiling out, and we’re swimming. Besides, I didn’t want to get my clothes wet.”
“Right.” He turned away from her for a moment, his hand on the back of his neck. “Right,” she heard him mutter again, so low, she nearly couldn’t hear it.
She wasn’t completely naive and had an inkling as to why he might be acting like this. If he was feeling anything like what she was right now, she understood.
“Doubtful,” he said under his breath, back still to her.
Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced over to where Varax was still splashing around, seemingly ignorant of their conversation. Except that the damn dragon was the one who had just strategically opened the pathway at the worst moment possible, ferrying Nya’s silent pining over to Morgen.
She scowled at her and didn’t wait to see the dragon’s reaction before reaching out to touch Morgen’s arm.
“Morgen—”
“Don’t.”
A sudden wave of energy slammed into her, and she stumbled back, nearly falling on her ass. She knew without even asking that it was a manifestation of his magic. He grabbed her arm just before she completely lost balance and then let go abruptly as if he’d been burned, his expression horrified.
