“It’s all right,” she says softly, lips curving into a tentative smile. My eyes track the movement, throat bobbing. Warmth floods her cheeks in a delicious shade of pink.
Skies damn me to the end of days.
“Your brother,” she says suddenly. Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Has he also fought in many battles?”
Faramir. Her betrothed.
She’s reminding me she’s promised to someone else. Even if I hadn’t murdered her friends, she would never—
“No. Earthwielder or not, the crown prince is excused from combat. Too risky for the future king.”
“Oh. Are you two … close?”
“No.”
I get up before she can ask anything else.
And to rinse away the taste of ash on my tongue.
The fire crackles behind me, its heat brushing against my back. My cloak rests heavy over me where I lie on the blanket, pretending to sleep while Mayah takes watch. Her energy signature thrums softly, like it’s beckoning me.
It’s not beckoning you, idiot. Clear your fucking head.
I can’t deny that I’ve been attracted to her from the beginning—since she slapped me, really. Something about her unflinching defiance draws me in. I’d expected a vapid and vain princess, yet she’s surprised me at every turn.
And I can’t remember the last time my neck prickled. No teeth-grinding sensations have plagued me since I’ve been alone with her—a peace I’ve never known. Mayah doesn’t lie. Ever, it seems.
It was easier to suppress my attraction before—when she openly hated me. But something shifted between us last night. I told her of Lev. Things I’d never told anyone.
And what she told me…
Guilt burns my lungs. I can never tell her the truth. What purpose would it serve? She’s Faramir’s betrothed. Not mine. I owe her nothing.
The fire sizzles as she kicks snow over it, and I force my breaths to even out in a mimicry of sleep. The softcrunchof her footsteps draws nearer. A gentle sigh as she unlaces and removes her boots, sets them beside mine. A rustle of fabric, and a contented moan. The soft sound sets my nerves alight.
I crack my eyes open in a narrowed sliver—her glowing hands pass over the bare skin of her legs, goosebumps visible in the moonlight. I shut my eyes again, suppressing a smile. Delicate baby.
When she peels back the blanket and nestles her head against my arm, dangerous warmth crackles through my chest. And then—
Soft hands press against my neck. It’s all I can do not to stiffen. I keep my breaths deep and slow, even as her power flows through me, soothing every sore muscle and aching limb.
She’s healing me.
The warmth in my chest threatens to set me aflame.
Only when I’m certain she’s asleep do I open my eyes. Her beautiful, moonlit face is free from worries—and her usual ire. Dark hair frames her features, spilling over my bicep. Something sharp pricks my heart.
She looks peaceful. And in my arms, she looksmine.
I’m fucked.
The next night, I portion twice as much snowshoe hare for her than myself.
“I can’t eat this much,” Mayah says, frowning at my smaller meal. “And you’re literally three times my size. You need it more.” She moves to reallocate our portions, but I grasp her wrist, trying to ignore the softness of her skin beneath my fingers.
“If you’re going to spend your nights healing us both, you need more food to replenish your reserves.”
She yanks her hand back as though I’ve burned her, cheeks heating to a delicious shade of pink.
