She didn’t look back as she tried to open the door—and found herself trapped by the magic that she’d been grateful for an hour ago.
Frustration replaced hurt and anger, streaming from her in a groan that she wasn’t proud of but described her state of mind better than words ever could. “It’s not like you’re giving me a choice, are you?”
“I’ll let you go if you hear me out.”
Of course there was a condition. There always was.
Not this time. Lory shook her head so hard she nearly tore a muscle in her neck.
“You let me go now, Imighthear you out one day, when I no longer feel like throttling you.” Because that was how things would have to be from now on. No more admissions of her feelings. No more pining over his absence. He wanted to play unavailable despite the obvious chemistry near-exploding whenever they were in the same room together? Not with her.
You stupid, stupid girl. You had to choose the one man who makes himself emotionally unavailable.Scolding herself wouldn’t make her feelings go away—she wasn’t even sure she wanted them to. But for now, she needed to put a foot down and tip the balance of this game.
Not a game. Something earth-shattering and soul-altering. They could have been incredible together.
“I guess people are right when they say some things are too good to be true.”
Lory wasn’t sure she imagined the stroke of heat painfully hitting her chest, right where the fiery cord had tangled with the thread she had no name for.
A few quick strides, and Khayrivven was close enough for her to touch him, but she stepped out of his way, not trusting herself with the proximity. No answers, no touch. No answers, no kiss. No answers… Well, she didn’t need to continue spinning that thought because she wouldn’t allow herself to end up in bed with him until this matter was solved.
Khayrivven’s eyes flashed a smoky gray as he reached for the door, and the moment it was open, he stood aside, mouth open as if words had built on his tongue. Words he wasn’t ready to speak—or didn’t allow himself. Lory didn’t care. She’d done all right without him before; she’d do the same now.
But as she passed by him, his scent hit her nose—a surge of embers and sage and the leather of the armor he’d stripped not even an hour ago—and her knees nearly buckled.
How could walking away from someone feel so wrong when self-preservation demanded she run?
Lory made it down the hallway in one piece, even when her chest threatened to splinter at every pace, the thin thread originating in her heart unspooling like a wordless connection she hadn’t been aware of before.
No, Lory didn’t hate him. She didn’t even want to. But now, her ego was wounded more than her heart. That was simply pumping her fire-laced blood like it had gained some new strength.
How she’d look at him without re-living the past hour in her head, she couldn’t tell. After all, she would need to work with him, train with him, go on missions with him, as her rank at Ashthorn demanded.
“Forgotten how to get to your room?”
At the corner of the stairwell, Lory almost ran into Hadrian, who wasn’t entirely stable on his feet himself. He braced an arm on the wall, wincing as he shifted his weight.
“Exercise injury, or did Anees hit you over the head for trying to manipulate her emotions again?”
“Shhh—this isn’t common knowledge. Are you inclined to let everyone know what I’m capable of?”
Lory put a hand on her hip. She’d had enough for today. “Worried no one will sleep with you if you don’t use your abilities?”
At that, Hadrian barked an unusually untamed laugh. “Please. Have you looked at me?”
A quick gaze up and down the phantom’s body, and Lory shook her head. “To each their own.”
She didn’t bother to wait for his response, merely stepping around him and following the length of the hallway until she ended up in the Medica quarters once more, right on Jarek’s threshold.
The new thornling sat propped up against the wall behind his cot, his nose buried in a book. On the nightstand, a bottle of the same wine Lory had just left in Khayrivven’s bedroom stood uncorked, but no glass to pour into.
“What brings you down here in the middle of the night?”
For the second time within a span of minutes, Lory almost jumped out of her skin.
“Well, Miss Vednis?” Princeton Nahrit, the Medica Hand, bestowed an inquisitive gaze at her from a few paces down the hallway. In his arms, he was carrying a pile of books, and a flask containing some smoky tincture was enjoying the honor of being throttled by his long, bony fingers.
“Hand Nahrit,” Lory inclined her head, grappling for an excuse before figuring out she neither had one, nor did she need one. No one had forbidden her to leave her quarters after a certain time—not that it was smart for her, walking the hallways of the Ward alone in the dark. “I didn’t feel like going to bed.”
