Page 519 of The Academy of Blood & Shadow

I stare at my best friend. He looks furious. Terrified. Exhausted. Nothing like Chief Corvell. Nothing like the man who spent all day fixing an entire kingdom because everyone waited for him to know what to do.

Just Rhyven. Finally.

I lower my voice. "She can do it without you."

Silence. Rhyven's breathing is heavy. His gaze drops.

Not away exactly. Down. Toward the ground between us. His hands close. Open.

"Yeah." His voice is rough. "Well, I can't."

Everything stops. The landing grounds. The dragons. The soldiers. All of it. Doesn't actually. Feels like it.

I stare at him. What the fuck?

And suddenly everything I have refused to arrange properly in my own head moves into place. Rhyven outside her door. Rhyven changing her patrol routes. Rhyven carrying food he pretended was nothing. Her dagger sheath repaired. Coffee. Training at midnight.

His eyes following her across rooms when he thought nobody noticed. The way he knows when she hasn't eaten. The way she knows exactly how he takes his coffee. The fucking book. I saw it in his pack list. No.

Not pack. Purchase request. Four weeks ago. Rare print acquisition. I thought it was strange. Didn't care enough to ask. Oh, gods.

Theryn disappears, Rhyven immediately thinks Eirea could be next. Elarion requests him, he looks north every ten fucking minutes. We deploy, he looks back at Varethia until there's nothing left to see. And now one first-year disappears and Rhyven is ready to abandon an international defense operation without even knowing the name. Not because he thinks Eirea can't survive. Because he can't survive not knowing if she did.

I take one step back. Almost involuntary. Something ugly twists in my stomach. Not because I hate him. That's the problem. I know him. I know exactly how little Rhyven gives anyone. And apparently he gave my sister everything without saying a fucking word.

"Are you in love with my sister?"

Rhyven freezes. There. No sarcasm. No irritation. No immediate denial. Nothing. His gaze drops toward his boots. Breathing still too fast.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

"Rhyven." Nothing. I feel something dangerously close to wanting to punch him. Maybe I should.

Later. Absolutely later.

"Rhyven."