Page 92
“I expect you to give me a reason to believe there is a you and me worth figuring out!”
He stared at her, finally understanding what she was asking of him. She wasn’t asking him to solve everything today. She wasn’t asking him to choose between worlds or tell her what their lives would look like years from now. She was asking him to choose her, and still, he hesitated.
“Fine.” Ria gestured toward the doorway. “I’m leaving. Bye.”
His brows rose. “That’s it?”
“What else is there?”
“Ria.”
“No.” She crossed the space, planted both hands against his chest, and pushed. “I have an entire workshop to pack, and you’re standing here making me angry.”
“I’m trying to talk to you.”
“You’re doing a terrible job.”
“Would you stop pushing me?”
“Would you start moving?”
He could have braced his feet and kept her from pushing him another inch, but that seemed likely to get him blasted across the floor, so Asterion stepped backward. Ria pushed him again, and despite everything, he nearly smiled. Of course, this was how she would throw him out. No tears, no pleading. Just an irritated witch physically shoving a minotaur twice her size toward the door because he’d failed to give her the one thing she’d asked of him.
She got him across the threshold and pointed down the hallway. “Go.”
He looked at her and felt the words pressing against everything that held him back. Stay. Stay with me. We’ll figure it out.
“Ria, I—”
She looked up at him, waiting. He could see the hope she hadn’t managed to hide, and it made what he did next even worse. He said nothing.
Her expression changed. “Goodbye, Asterion.”
The door closed between them. He stood in the hallway staring at it, knowing he could knock. He could open the door, walk back inside, and tell her everything he’d been too afraid to say. His hand lifted toward the knob before stopping. Wanting her wasn’t the problem. He wanted her enough that asking her to stay felt selfish, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He lowered his hand and headed for the gym at the other end of the office. He didn’t bother changing clothes. He only needed something to do that required enough concentration to keep him from turning around and going back to Ria.
The gym was empty when he entered. He crossed to the rack along the wall and reached for his labrys, testing the familiar weight in his hands before moving to the center of the room. He planted his feet and began the first sequence. The routine had been drilled into him when he was young, long before he’d been strong enough to wield a full-sized weapon. Each movement led into the next: a turn of the wrist, a sweep of the axe across his body, a shift of his weight as he stepped back and brought the labrys around again. The exercise wasn’t meant for combat. It taught balance and control, forcing the warrior to remain aware of every movement of his body and the weapon in his hands.
Usually, it worked. A few repetitions were enough to clear his head and allow him to concentrate on whatever problem had brought him here. Today, all he could see was Ria standing in front of him, her words following him into the gym. I expect you to give me a reason to believe there is a you and me worth figuring out.
He turned, bringing the labrys around his body before raising it over his shoulder. His foot landed harder than it should have. He corrected his stance and continued, refusing to let his frustration interfere with a routine he’d performed thousands of times.
He had understood her too late. By the time he’d realized she wasn’t asking him to solve their entire future, he’d already hurt her. All she’d wished for was for him to tell her that he wanted to try, and he’d stood there and said nothing. He tightened his grip on the handle and began the sequence again.
“Are you fighting someone?”
He stopped and looked toward the doorway. Korinnae stood there watching him, her head tilted to one side as her gaze traveled from the labrys and back again.
“Nay.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
She frowned. “With an axe?”
He almost smiled. “It helps.”
