I lifted a brow. “I’d say I didn’t take you for someone who would have a secret stash of swords, but that pretty much fits. They are a lot more…artisticthan I would have expected, though.”
“It seems we’ve both made snap judgements.”
“Never judge a book by its cover.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he said. “If a book has an intriguing cover, I’m much more interested in opening those pages and finding out exactly what awaits me inside.”
There was something in his voice. It was almost as if it had dropped an octave. And his tone had shifted into something that reminded me of a velvety caress. Flushing, I took a quick sip of my tea to mask my reaction, along with the fact that I’d just noticed how he’d rolled up his sleeves to reveal his powerful forearms. Why in fate’s name was I looking at that?
He took a step toward me, and my body tensed. I still had my tea mug to my lips, and the liquid flew down my throat. I choked, sputtering up all over my shirt and making an absolute fates-damned idiot out of myself.
The lukewarm liquid dripped down my chin, leaving a trail of pain in its wake. I brushed it aside with my shirt and lifted my gaze to find Rivelin practically grinning.
“Everything all right, Daella?” My name rolled off his tongue like a decadent piece of chocolate.
“I think I’m done with my tea for the night.”
“Probably for the best since you’re spilling as much of it as you’re drinking.”
“Very funny. I’m glad I can be a source of amusement for you.”
He chuckled as I left the living room to rinse the cup. When I returned, he was already spreading his blanket across the sofa. His bed for the night. I hadn’t planned on going to sleep just yet, but I couldn’t very well stay in here now. The idea of sitting in the armchair while he lay down…it felt far too intimate.
Because he smelled like a dragon. That was why. There was no other reason I felt on edge.
And so I wandered toward the hallway as Rivelin called out behind me. “Good night, Daella.”
I swallowed. What was wrong with me? “Night, Rivelin.”
After I walked into the bedroom and shut the door, I noted the dragon scent had faded. And it had been so strong, so spicy and intoxicating, it felt odd now that it was gone. Like something essential was missing.
* * *
The next morning, Rivelin was practically vibrating with intensity. I found him in the back garden looking over my handiwork from the day before. Based on the shadows beneath his eyes, he’d clearly struggled to sleep. He ran his massive hands along the ropes I’d used to tie the logs together. Admittedly, the thing was more like a raft than a boat, but it wasn’t as though I’d ever built a damn ship before.
“This is going to be a problem,” he said in a gruff voice that prickled my irritation.
“You’re welcome, Rivelin. I know you ran off to waste all of yesterday grumping around wherever it was you went. Probably the woods.” Or a dragon lair. “You really are lucky I took it upon myself to finish your boat. Otherwise, you’d have nothing.”
“You’re my assistant,” he said through gritted teeth. “The rules state that you have to engage in every challenge.”
“And I did. I built your fucking boat.”
“You built a raft, Daella. And you have to come with me onto the lake.”
My blood ran cold. “Pardon?”
“You can’t stay on shore. You have to come. If you don’t, we forfeit our place in the Midsummer Games.”
It was then I truly understood the depths of his aggravation. I stared at the raft, seeing it with new eyes. Yesterday, I’d pieced it together imagining a single person—Rivelin—maneuvering it across the lake without worrying about water spilling through the cracks between logs and seeping into his trousers. Or splashing over the side. Or potentially capsizing if the thing was just a tad on the too-small side. He would right it and climb back on and all would be well.
Me, on the other hand…
“I can’t go on that.”
“I know.”
“My skin isallergicto fresh water.”
