Gesturing with my hand, I waved at the amount of space he was occupying around the gap in the cliff wall. “You’re not even enjoying the view, you’re reading some dusty old book. But you’re taking up the entire perch.”
He shifted slightly to the side, leaving barely enough to allow me to sit beside him. “There, are you happy?”
I would be if you chose somewhere else to read.
He was still dangerous, but this was my last chance to enjoy this view. My pride and pent-up frustration from dinner wrestled against my caution.
It’ll save Nikolach the effort of killing me if this jerk shoves me off the cliff. At least I wouldn’t have to participate in the Mistrun tomorrow.
Straightening my back, I marched over toward him and swung my legs precariously off the edge next to him. There was barely enough room for both of us, but I would meet the Devourer before I let him intimidate me like a child. Every mote of distance between us held an electric charge, but I refused to move. There was less than a fingertip of space separating us.
He let out an aggrieved sigh, closing his book and setting it down beside him. I leaned back on my hands, trying in vain to ignore his presence while watching the frothing miasma.
Lovely, nearly translucent waves undulated in the melancholy dusk light. Pale and shimmering, the miasma folded over itself in a reflective kaleidoscope of color, shadows twisting within it from the many creatures that inhabited it.
It was a shame that touching it burned flesh like acid.
Watching the miasma was usually calming. His proximity beside me made it irritating instead. The stranger hadn't so much as twitched. He was as stubborn as I was, and also refused to leave.
Well, two could play that game. I wanted to hear his voice again, just a tiny smidge. And if interacting with him was annoying enough to make him move, all the better.
“What brought you up here to my spot?”
The corners of his left eyebrow twitched. “Your spot?”
“Yes, my spot.” He gave an exaggerated scan of the gouges carved into the ground around us, scrutinizing the runes. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for your name, carved somewhere.”
My eyes narrowed. “Out of curiosity, what name do you think you should be searching for?”
“Something shallow, pretty, and more hard-headed than this rock.” He knocked his knuckles against it. “Like Madisen. Or Ashlei.”
Torn between being pleased at the compliment and offended at the insults, I blurted out the truth. “It's Lisia. And I would never deface nature with my autograph.” An awkward silence shivered to life between us. I paused until it stretched too long. “You know my name now.”
“What's your point?” His voice had no right to be as melodious as it was.
Frustration had me grinding my teeth together. “It's polite to tell someone your name when you learn theirs.”
Disbelieving, or maybe aggravated, he tipped his face ever so slightly to examine me again. I successfully ignored the impulse to meet his eyes. “I'm not polite.”
“No kidding.” I waited for a few more seconds. “Well, are you going to tell me your name or not?”
“No.”
“Why are you all the way up here, anyway?”
He scowled, thick brows furrowed. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh c’mon. Sharing secrets is more fun than safekeeping them.”
“I’ve had a hell of a day already. My quota for facing consequences is maxed out, and I won’t be sharing the damn details with you. But since you’re desperate for companionship and won’t leave me alone, why don’t you tell me about your day instead?”
“I got out of the Reformatory today,” I announced, swinging my legs back and forth.
“Happy hatching day.” I rolled my eyes at his lame joke. “Never would have guessed from the getup.”
I gave a noncommittal shrug, tugging at the hem of my yellow shirt. “Standard issue shade of shame.”
