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"Enjoy this."

"I'm not."

"Liar."

"Possibly."

There. Again. That tiny softness. Only with me. I shift my weight. Mistake. Rhyven moves. Fast. My wrist turns. My blade drops. He catches it before it hits the floor. At the same time, he steps inside my stance. I try to pivot. Too late. My back meets the wall. Not painfully. Firmly. Rhyven stops in front of me. Close.

Very close. One hand braced against the stone beside my head. My wrist still held lightly in the other. His blade trapped between our bodies because neither of us bothered to move it. I breathe in. Bad idea. He smells like sweat, leather, cold air and something unmistakably him. My brain becomes profoundly unhelpful.

"Disarmed." He says. His voice sounds rougher.

I look toward my blade in his hand. Then at him.

"Technically."

"No."

"You cheated."

"No."

"You distracted me."

His eyes narrow. "With what." Oh. He knows. He absolutely knows. Asshole.

"Your ego." I say.

"Convenient."

"Massive."

"You're trapped against a wall."

"And still insulting you."

"Concerning."

"Impressive."

"No."

I smile. But it's harder now. Because his face is inches from mine. Because his thumb shifts where his fingers circle my wrist. Barely. Not intentional. Maybe. Because my other hand is still against his chest. I never moved it. Neither did he. His heartbeat is faster now. Definitely. I could tease him. I should.

That's what we do. Instead I become aware of everything. The heat of his body. His breath moving across my cheek. The gold of his eyes this close. Tiny darker flecks around the pupils I have never noticed before. The line of his mouth. That stupid faint scar near his jaw. His dimples aren't visible. Obviously.

He's not smiling. But I know they're there. This feels like secret knowledge. Rhyven's gaze moves over my face. Slowly. Not like at The Place. That had been half a second. This isn't. He is looking. Actually looking. My lips part. His eyes drop again. My stomach turns over. Oh. There it is. No sarcasm to hide behind. No training correction. No magical accident. No bond. Just... This. Him. Me. Too close. I should step away.

Except there's a wall. He should step back. He doesn't. I could tell him to. I don't.

"Still not scared?"

The question comes quieter now. Almost a whisper. Rhyven looks at me. Something in his face changes. Not softer. More honest.

"Eirea." My name. Not Vaelith. Not sharp. Not corrective. Just... Eirea. And somehow that's worse.

My hand shifts against his chest. Barely. I feel the muscles beneath my palm tighten. His breath catches. So small. But I hear it. Victory flashes through me. Not because I made him react. Because Rhyven reacts to me. That knowledge is dangerous.