“Do you need to piss?” Ronan asks first.
Karis’s brow furrows. “No.”
“Then it’s bedtime. Give me your arm.”
Karis doesn’t move, but he doesn’t resist either as Ronan takes his right arm and loops the rope around the narrow wrist. Over the shirtsleeve this time, because he doesn’t want to scrape the kid’s skin raw overnight. He’s considerate like that.
“Actually I was wrong,” Karis says lightly. “I need to piss like crazy.”
Ronan tightens a knot and tests the tension. “I’ll grab a bucket.”
Karis grimaces. “Nevermind.”
Ronan wonders what kind of pampered life he’s lived that he’s never pissed in a bucket before, but doesn’t care enough to ask. He just takes the rest of the long rope and starts tying it around his own left wrist.
“What are you doing?” Karis asks.
He’s standing close enough that when Ronan looks down, he sees the lines of his collarbones past the loose neck of the borrowed shirt. Karis jerks his arm, and Ronan feels the tug around his own wrist.
“If you move overnight, I’ll know,” Ronan says. “Don’t bother trying to escape again.”
Karis’s amber eyes skitter to the cot in the corner. “The bed’s not big enough for both of us.”
“You can take the floor,” Ronan says.
“Youcan take the floor,” Karis counters. “Your shoulders are so big, you won’t fit on the cot anyway.”
Five minutes of bickering later, the lights are out and the pair of them are both squeezed onto the cot. There’s just enough room for both of them to lie flat, with a couple inches of space between them. Karis has the side nearest the wall, plus a rolled-up cloak for a pillow, which Ronan grabbed for him because it was quicker than arguing. Ronan doesn’t have a pillow, just the thin mattress beneath him and the light breathing of the young man to his left.
Closing his eyes, Ronan finally allows his body to relax. Stillness reveals aches and pains he hadn’t noticed when he was up and moving, or crouching in the Radiant Order’s locked carriage. Muscle by muscle, joint by joint, his body slowly unlocks. Like a bag of coins settling after being flung to the ground.
Karis seems to find no such peace. Every time he shifts, the movement runs through the rope between them. He twitches every so often, always timed as if on purpose for when Ronan is about to slide into sleep, jarring him back to full awareness. But Ronan keeps his eyes closed, and his breathing never changes. And Karis eventually stays still enough for long enough that Ronan fades into dreams.
***
He wakes once to a tug on his wrist. Barely any movement, but it yanks him without transition from the depths of sleep to the cold surface of awareness. Sensations register as he keeps his breathing slow and steady. The firm surface of the cot underneath him. The light friction of his clothes as his chest moves up and down. The dry scent of dust and the remains of dinner.
Breathing next to him, light and quick. Karis is awake.
Ronan keeps his eyes closed as Karis moves. Slowly twisting his wrist. Warmth. A hand wraps around his arm, touching sleeve and rope, not skin, and gently moves it upwards. Pausing every time Ronan breathes. The thin mattress shifts, and a limb presses briefly against Ronan’s hip. Karis is kneeling above him now.
He isn’t sure why he still pretends to sleep. Maybe he just wants to see what Karis will do. Is this another escape attempt? Tension hums through the darkness. Ronan savors the taste between his teeth.
Slim fingers touch the apple of his neck, and Ronan’s blood chills. Races. There’s a long moment when the only point of contact is Karis’s fingertips, and the skin of Ronan’s neck tingles around them, every nerve pulled towards that light touch.
Karis’s palm curves over his neck. His thumb rests over Ronan’s jugular.
Ronan should stop him now. Grab his wrist, scare the shit out of him, teach him to behave. But he waits another moment. He just wants to see what will happen. What kind of person Karis is. If he’s violent enough or desperate enough to try to kill a man.
If he’s anything like Ronan, after all.
A light sigh whispers in the night, and the thin hand pulls away. Ronan is almost disappointed when Karis carefully repositions their arms and lies back down at his side. His neck still tingles with the touch, and it’s a very long time before he hears Karis’s breathing even out. It’s even longer before Ronan sleeps again too.
?
CHAPTER SEVEN
KARIS
