I unhooked the dagger, stepping forward to drop it into the barrel. Zevrial caught my wrist, taking the knife from my grip and pointedly staring down toward the barrel. I followed his gaze.
My breath caught.
Partially obscured beneath the two daggers he’d already placed at the bottom, the distinctive spikes of the horn poked out. He gingerly angled my dagger as he placed it so it hid the last of the Starshell from view, eyes trained on mine. I opened my mouth like a fish, floundering for words that didn’t come.
Quietly, he murmured low enough that only I could hear, “Don’t. Later, we’ll talk.”
I was too numb from fatigue and surprise to argue.
Instructor Weavir was moving from Yeshar’s room to Mikalyn’s as I turned to the living quarters.
Exhaustion shackled my steps as I shuffled away. I beelined for the spring pool, rinsing off the blood and gore that coated my skin. Trying not to think about what I’d seen earlier made me think about it. I was rattled and fast approaching overwhelmed.
I dried off, slipping into a nightgown and heading back to my room. My chest warmed at the plate of dinner with cake Sarina or Corra had laid out for me on my nightstand. There was a small bit of bark beside it with a note scrawled in Sarina’s handwriting.
“In the Fitness center, so don’t get too cocky from your adventures today.” Like I’d have enough energy to even train tomorrow, much less push myself to compete with her today.
I fell on the food with ravenous hunger, my brain processing slower than normal.
I was finishing the last of my fruit cake when I heard a rap on the door.
Opening it a crack, Zevrial stood on the other side holding what looked like a bottle of sweetstalk nectar.
It hadn’t occurred to me he’d want to talk in my room. And now he was here, and I didn’t want to let him in. This place felt too private, too intimate, and if he stepped inside that feeling would only increase. And on top of that, our room wasn’t exactly clean.
He took a step forward as if he was going to push his way in. I firmed my grip on the door, leaning my bodyweight against it. He stopped, even though I suspected he could overpower me to get past the door if he wanted to.
One eyebrow rose, “May I come in?”
No. Maybe. Yes. Argh. I needed to talk to him. I just didn’t trust myself to be alone in my bedroom with him. This felt like a threshold we wouldn’t be able to uncross. Dimly, it registered that I was only wearing a flimsy nightgown.
“Fine,” I settled on, opening the door and stepping back. His presence filled up the space as he entered. The room was too small, and he was too big.
This was a terrible idea.
Or the best idea ever, my hormones argued with my head.
He glanced around, taking in the disorderly but convenient chaos that Sarina and I lived in. His gaze snagged on a few items on my side of the room. The notes I was currently studying, the scarf Mama had knit me, the box Henrik had asked me to hold onto, the metal yo-yo on my nightstand. He didn’t comment.
“Sarina could be back any minute.” I motioned to the one chair we had in the room while I took a seat on the edge of the bed. It was as far away as I could put myself from him. I crossedmy ankles, patting down my nightgown’s skirt to make sure it stayed put.
He turned the chair I’d offered backwards, moving it much closer, and draped himself into it. “Doubt it.” He took a gulp from the bottle. “The final’s been postponed for a week ‘cause of today’s emergency.”
I blinked, digesting the unexpected news. That meant I had two weeks to prepare. He held the bottle out to me. With his chair in the newly relocated position, he was within arm’s reach. I accepted the half-empty offering, tasting petrichor and mint on the rim as I took a swig.
The nectar brought an immediate familiar relaxing fuzziness to my limbs.
Drinking around Zevrial felt sinful and risky, like eating an entire cake instead of dinner. Wrong and right at the same time.
I’d never been great at resisting temptation, and starting now was beyond me.
“Where’d you get this, anyway?” I shook the bottle, handing it back.
“Henrik’s room,” he said. A puzzle piece clicked into place.
“You knew Henrik stole the horn. You covered for him,” I said.
“He’s not a subtle thief.”
