"Yes, you are." Rythar exhales once, then moves. He scoops me up efficiently, one arm locking around my thighs, the other bracing my back. I barely have time to gasp before I’m hauled against his chest.
“Put me down,” I snarl, pounding uselessly at his shoulder. “Not again!”
He strides across the rooftop, boots striking stone.
I struggle harder. “You can’t do this every time I disagree with you!”
His fingers tighten, but he keeps moving.
The door to his quarters seals behind us. Only then does he stop and set me down. The moment my feet hit the floor, I shove at his chest. I may as well shove a wall.
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t ever do that again. You think you can win every argument by carrying me into your bedroom!”
“No.” His voice lowers, and his eyes bore into mine. “I chose speed over patience. And order over spectacle.”
He turns on his heel and crosses the room, hands folding behind his back.
“This is our bed,” he says quietly, speaking more as if to himself than to me.
My body stiffens. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“You are sleeping,” he corrects. “With me nearby. Very nearby. That is all.”
“It’s not late yet,” I protest. “We only woke up a few hours ago.”
“You are tired. I am tired. We need rest now.” He sits on the edge of the bed, back to me, shoulders tense beneath the weight of his own certainty. “This ends here,” he adds. “Not because you are wrong. Because if it continues, it will become something I do not want.”
My chest tightens. “And what’s that?”
He lies back, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Answer my question first, Elena. Why did you give me the antivenom?”
“I don’t know!” I lie.
Rythar doesn’t react.
The choice is clear. It’s the bed, or the floor. I’ve slept on worse than stone. But the bed is comfortable.
I’m getting soft.
I climb onto the far side of the bed, curling as far away as possible. He doesn’t move.
When I wake hours later, his arm is draped over my waist. I let the warmth of him seep through the thin fabric between us.
My fingers hover near his forearm, unsure. I could move it. I don’t touch him, but I don’t move away either.
CHAPTER 20
FALLING IN THE TREETOPS
ELENA – RYTHAR’S FORTRESS IN THE GREEN REACH
When I wake again,his arm is still across my waist. The bed is warm, the air full of Rythar’s scent. I keep my eyes closed, listening to the silence. There’s a subtle shifting of the mattress as he pulls away, careful not to wake me. I don’t move.
Rythar moves to sit at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. He’s watching the window, the way light creeps up over the Green Reach and cuts lines through the room. The muscle in his shoulder jumps once, then relaxes. His head turns back to check on me.
I shift. The sheet rides up. His eyes find my collarbone. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t apologize for watching.
