‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ she asked, making her tone as nasty as possible. ‘Fellow puppies to play with?’
‘Yes, always.’ He laughed. ‘But none quite as pretty as you, darling Bisma.’
‘I assure you my bite is as bad as my bark,’ she threatened.
‘Now that’s something I’d be keen to experience,’ he said, eyes flashing with heat.
Her pulse raced. She couldn’t look at him; she was afraid she might do something asinine, like blush.
Instead, Bisma looked over his shoulder and saw that the mayor’s office and inn front seemed to be busy with preparations.
Xander turned and followed her gaze. ‘Ah, my Uncle Fred is coming to town for a few months,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s a brilliant architect. He has ideas to modernize Old Town.’
‘What an oxymoron.’
Xander smiled. Irritation—with an undercurrent of hopeless despair—ran through her. No matter how rude she was to him—no matter how she tried to keep him away—he was always amiable and good-natured, a silly smile forever plastered on his face.
‘Clever,’ he replied. ‘I am lucky we were never in class together or you’d have taken my spot as first student.’
While before she was merely vexed by him, now she was angry. He wasmockingher.
Unwanted Girls were not allowed in the town’s school, and rich boys like Xander went away to bigger cities for proper education at boarding schools.
‘I am surprised to hear you were the first student,’ she replied, this time finding no difficulty in making her voice scathing. ‘But while your charms may have worked on your brainless teachers, they don’t work on me.’
He looked wounded.
Another ploy! Well, she would not be swayed by the injured expression on his sweet face.
‘I didn’t mean—’ he began.
‘I know what you meant,’ she snapped.
‘Bisma—’
‘It’s Unwanted Girl to you,’ she said. None of the other villagers cared to learn their names, and the only reason he did was to trap her. Every time he said her name in that deep voice of his, part of her tugged closer to him, ached for him to say it again.
To hear her name whispered by him, to taste it on his tongue.
A shiver ran through her.
The problem was Bisma knew how lovely the build-up of being ensnared was, the rush of being kissed, of being touched. It was so easy to remember the thrill of it and to forget the pain of the aftermath, the agony of heartbreak.
But she would not forget. She wouldnotrepeat the same mistakes.
‘Good day,’ she said, making to leave. She looked to the bakery to call Nori once more, only to realize Nori was no longer there.
Bisma swore under her breath.
Concern covered Xander’s face. He stepped forward. ‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice tender.
‘Nothing!’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone.’
She grabbed an itching power from her cart, flicked open the cap, and blew the powder into the air. Xander jumped back and she hurried back to the bakery to ask Haru.
At the bakery, Bisma heard Nori’s laughter. Relief flowed through her for a second before her heart froze with dread. The laughter was not coming from in front of her but from behind.
From …above?
