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Silence. I stare. Oh. Oh, this is beautiful. Rhyven looks down at the blade. Then at me. I smile slowly. "Well." No answer. "I think that's called losing."

"No."

I laugh.

"You're against a wall."

"Observant."

"My blade is at your throat."

"Also observant."

"You cannot possibly argue this."

"I can."

"How?"

His free hand closes around my wrist. Not removing the blade. Just holding. Warm fingers. Firm. His eyes stay on mine. "You forgot my other hand."

I look down. Damn it. His second blade rests against my ribs. I hadn't even felt him place it there. I look back up. "You cheated."

"No."

"You absolutely cheated."

"You stopped paying attention."

"I was celebrating."

"That's why you die."

"Romantic."

His eyebrow lifts. Wrong word. Definitely wrong word. Why did I say romantic? I refuse to acknowledge it. Neither of us moves. I should step back. He should. We don't. My blade still rests against his throat. His against my ribs. His hand around my wrist. My other palm braced against his chest from the collision. I can feel his heartbeat. Fast. Not wildly. Rhyven doesn't do wildly. But faster than before. I look at him. Really look. Sweat darkens a few strands of hair near his forehead. His breathing is controlled. Mostly. His pupils wider in the low lantern light. A faint flush along his throat. Interesting.

"You look nervous." I say.

"I'm not."

"Hm."

I lean slightly closer. Not much. Enough.

"Scared, Corvell?" There it is. Our joke. Except... He doesn't answer immediately. His eyes drop. Not far. My mouth. Then back to my eyes. Every trace of humor leaves me. Oh.

"Careful." His voice is lower. Not Chief voice. Not instructor voice. Rhyven.

I swallow. "That sounds like fear."

"It was a warning."

"For me?"

A pause. Tiny. Dangerous. "No." My heartbeat stumbles. The warning is for him. Gods. I don't know what to say. Which may be a first. Rhyven notices. The faintest satisfaction touches his expression. I narrow my eyes. "Don't."

"What."