Chapter 35 #3
Her skate caught on something, sending her lurching forward. Gideon caught her again, but the momentum carried them into a graceless spin that ended with her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her middle to keep them both upright.
“Definitely a fawn,” he murmured near her ear. “The angriest fawn in Vallemont.”
She elbowed him, which only made her skates slide again, which made him tighten his hold, which made everything infinitely worse and better and—
“I’m going to master this,” she declared, as much to herself as to him. “And then I’m going to skate circles around you.”
“I don’t doubt it.” His voice was warm in a way that made her heart flutter. “You’re Cassara Allencourt. You don’t know how to fail.”
The words should have been simple encouragement. Instead, they cut deeper than Gideon had meant. She had failed. Failed to see through Julian. Failed to see the real threat Verena posed. Failed to stop her heart from racing when Gideon held her steady on the ice.
“Teach me properly,” she said, pushing the thoughts away. “I want to learn.”
He turned her carefully to face him, keeping hold of her hands. “All right. First lesson—stop fighting the ice. You’re trying to control it instead of moving with it.”
“I always try to control things.”
“I’ve noticed.” His thumbs brushed her palms through the gloves. “But this isn’t combat. It’s more like… dancing.”
“I’m terrible at dancing too.”
“Now that,” he said, beginning to draw her backward again, “I don’t believe for a second.”
Time blurred. What started as graceless flailing gradually evolved into something resembling actual skating. Cassara’s death grip on Gideon’s hands loosened to fingertips, then to occasional steadying touches, until finally, miraculously, she was gliding on her own.
“Look at that,” Gideon called from several feet away, skating backward in lazy circles. “The fawn has found her legs.”
“I am not,” Cassara said with as much dignity as she could muster while wobbling, “a fawn.”
“My mistake. Clearly you’re a natural. Poetry in motion.”
She narrowed her eyes at his teasing tone. He was just out of reach, maintaining the distance with infuriating ease every time she tried to close it.
“Come here and say that.”
“And risk those knife-shoes?” He spun in a neat circle, showing off. “I’ve seen what you can do with actual blades. I’m not giving you an advantage.”
“Coward.”
“Strategic retreat.” He glided further back, grinning. “Besides, you’re doing so well on your own.”
The praise might have warmed her if it wasn’t delivered while he skated away from her. Cassara shuffled forward faster, determined to wipe that smirk off his face. Her newfound confidence lasted exactly four strides.
Her blade caught wrong, balance vanishing in an instant.
She pitched backward with a yelp, arms seeking purchase and finding nothing but air.
Gideon’s eyes widened as he rushed toward her, but momentum was not their friend.
He caught her around the waist just as her skates went out from under her entirely.
They hit the snowbank at the pond’s edge in a tangle of limbs. Cassara’s back hit the soft snow, air whooshing from her lungs, and then Gideon’s weight followed, his hands bracing on either side of her head to keep from crushing her completely.
Snow settled around them in gentle silence.
Cassara blinked up at him, acutely aware of everywhere they touched, his hips bracketing hers, chest nearly pressed to chest, his face so close she could see gold flecks in his hazel eyes. Her hat had gone completely askew, dark hair fanning out across the pristine white snow like spilled ink.
Gideon seemed frozen above her, arms trembling slightly with the effort of holding himself up, or maybe from something else entirely. His gaze traveled over her face, her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rose and fell with quick breaths.
“Cassara.” Her name came out rough, barely voiced.
The way he was looking at her, intense and hungry and tender all at once, made heat pool low in her stomach despite the snow seeping through her coat. His head lowered fractionally, and she could feel his breath against her lips, could see the question forming in his eyes.
For a moment, she almost let it happen. Almost lifted her head those scant inches to close the distance. Almost forgot about complicated truths and absent instructors and promises made in stone corridors.
Almost.
Instead, she planted both hands against his chest and shoved.
“Off,” she managed, voice not quite as steady as she’d like. “You’re heavy.”
He rolled to the side immediately, landing on his back in the snow with a soft whump. For a moment they both lay there, staring at the winter sky, breathing too hard for such a simple fall.
“Well,” Cassara said finally, proud when her voice came out almost normal, “I think we’ve established that ice is vindictive and not to be trusted.”
Gideon remained on his back for a moment longer, staring at the sky like it might provide answers. Then he huffed a laugh that was equal parts amusement and something else.
“Vindictive ice,” he repeated. “Of course.”
She struggled to her feet, which was significantly harder with skates still attached. “Have you had your fill of trying to kill me with knife-shoes? Because I’m starting to think this was all an elaborate assassination attempt.”
“Caught me.” He sat up, snow cascading from his hair. “The captain of Auric Vow, laid low by recreational activities.”
“I knew it.” She offered him a hand up, which he accepted with a wry smile. “No one is naturally that good at skating backward. Dark forces were clearly involved.”
“Just practice,” he said, and somehow they were standing too close again, her hand still in his.
She pulled away, adjusting her wayward hat. “Yes, well. Some of us had better things to do than practice knife-shoes.”
“Like following people through the snow?”
“That was reconnaissance.”
“It was stalking.”
“Tactical observation.” She lifted her chin. “Completely different thing.”
His laugh was warm, genuine, so different from his usual controlled responses.
She laughed too, but the tremor beneath it wasn’t all from the cold. Her lips still tingled from his breath, from the kiss that hadn’t happened but somehow felt more real than ones that had.
“Your hat gave up,” Gideon said, reaching past her to pluck the wayward item from the ground where it had finally admitted defeat, half-buried in the snow. “I think it’s plotting against you.”
“Traitorous thing,” Cassara muttered, glaring at it like it had personally offended her. “First the knife-shoes, now the hat. Everything’s conspiring today.”
“Maybe they know something you don’t,” he said lightly, then stepped closer. “Hold still.”
Before she could protest, he was settling the hat gently over her disheveled hair, his fingers brushing her temples as he adjusted it. The gesture was careful, tender, and far too reminiscent of how he’d helped with her skates earlier.
“There,” he murmured, hands lingering just a moment before dropping away. “Though I’m not sure it’s learned its lesson.”
Cassara had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Clearly needs more discipline. I’ll have it running drills by tomorrow.”
“Come on,” Gideon said, already moving toward the pond’s edge, though she caught the slight roughness in his voice. “Let’s get these death traps off before you decide to attempt revenge.”