Chapter 14 #2
I wave a dismissive hand. “You can thank me another time.”
Quin glances towards the front of the carriage, his expression flickering between exasperation, disbelief and faint amusement.
He clears his throat, and when he looks at me again, there’s a hint of a smile in his eyes.
“Is that really necessary?” he murmurs, and .
. . his words land more softly than usual. “I’d say our debt is already settled.”
“My gratitude was a touch lacklustre on the day.”
“A touch?”
I scowl at him. “I can be grateful.” In a low mutter, “No matter my feelings on the recipient.”
Quin barks out a short laugh and swirls the dark bottle. “What is it?”
“Mood-altering spores, personally distilled for—”
Dark eyes become darker. Any hint of curled lips disappears, leaving behind a blank expression that makes me shiver.
I look from him to the bottle and back again. My stomach rises and falls on an abrupt . . . thought. “It’s not for you, you!”
One brow rises steadily, awaiting explanation.
“For your academy. This is a treasure among dance houses. Not easy to obtain.” Can I sweat any more than this? “Are you not familiar with it?”
“All too familiar.” A shadow crosses his face. “I’ve since banned it at my academy.”
Blood drains from my face and in my panic, I blabber, “This is not potent. One squirt into the air for mild . . . arousal.”
Quin slams his eyes shut.
Silence thickens around us; I eye the door, contemplating diving out it. What . . . had I been thinking?
I give a weak, regretful chuckle and reach for the bottle.
Quin shifts it away. “It is, after all, a gift.”
I try to snatch it back.
Left, right, up, down, an expressionless Quin holds it just out of reach.
I lunge for the vial, but Quin shifts it again, a smirk in his eyes deepening with each failed attempt. The carriage jolts, and I fall against him, my palm landing firmly on his chest. His breath hitches, just a little, but enough to send heat rushing to my face. “Falling hard, Cael?”
My fingers glance off the bottom of the bottle—
It tilts and tumbles, and—
Smashes on the wooden floor between our feet.
My eyes widen and I slam my palm over Quin’s nose and mouth, apologising profusely.
I won’t let him take so much as a whiff.
With one hand, I free a handkerchief. Quin’s tight demands are muffled into oblivion by my hand.
I even ignore the nip of his teeth against my palm, and yell for Aklo to halt.
The carriage comes to a jarring stop. Hurriedly, I lift my hand and cover Quin’s nose and mouth with the handkerchief.
My vision blurs; a wave of heat washes through me. I stumble back and pant, “We need to get out of the carriage.”
Quin’s gaze pierces mine from above the cloth. “Not potent, eh?”
“One squirt!” This is . . . an entire bottle.
A ticklish giggle races through me along with another wave of heat. Air. I need air.
I dive for the exit but a sudden gust washes me back into the carriage.
My feet crunch over glass and I fall back onto Quin’s bench.
Onto his lap. He oofs at my weight, possibly in pain since I landed on his leg, and his magic momentarily suspends the gale that’s sweeping away the spores in the air.
Frozen, I glance at him. His brows are slightly pushed together on an otherwise calm face; his hands swish and twist elegantly, controlling the wind.
He speaks drily as the wind dissipates. “If you’d let me do this from the start,” his gaze darts down, “you wouldn’t be in such a predicament.”
I leap off him. “I’ll just . . . find some cold water.”
Quin peeks out the window.
I dash for the exit again, and this time freeze at Quin’s command.
I face him. He’s untying his cloak, removing it. “There are people out there.”
I eye him and the crowds, then him again. “I’d rather people see!”
“The academy is close.”
Without warning, Quin sweeps me onto his lap and whips his cloak over me like a blanket.
Using magic to aid his leg, he heaves to his feet, and I can feel the steady thump of his heart where I’m pressed tightly to his chest. “Comfortable?” he asks, voice infuriatingly steady, even as his hand clasps me mere inches from my predicament.
I swallow hard and force my focus anywhere but the warmth seeping from him to me. “Not in the slightest,” I growl, though I hope he can’t hear the pound of my own heart.
Stoic-faced, he alights from the carriage. A sudden wave of embarrassment has me ducking my flushed face against his neck, where others—and he—can’t see it. He carries me swiftly into his academy and orders a bath brought to his private room.
“With ice,” I croak.
“Lots of it,” Quin agrees.
As soon as we’re behind closed doors I leap off him and throw myself into an armchair in the far corner. “Worst gift ever, worst gift ever,” I chant under my breath.
“You’ll have to try again.”
I nod. “Forgive me.”
He leans against a windowsill, grimacing.
The bath arrives and is gradually filled—half water, half ice. A screen is placed between it and the windowed side of the room. I make quick work of undressing and lower myself with a hiss into the cold water. Thirty seconds should be enough.
I wait an extra ten.
When I get out, my clothes have been replaced with clean ones.
The fabric is a silky soft delight on my skin. They fit perfectly. Only my worn boots mar the distinguished look.
I emerge from behind the screen, admiring the light shirt and perfectly fitted leggings. “I could live in these clothes.”
Quin faces the view of the busy street and doesn’t look back. “Keep them.”
“That’s far too generous.”
“Then return them tomorr—”
“Generosity I’ll happily accept!” I say hurriedly.
He turns towards the doors. I follow him to the now-clean carriage, but as we travel, I can’t stop staring at the space where the vial fell. Quin, too, glances at it more than once.
Our gazes clash, and the air crackles between us. His brow lifts in challenge, daring me to speak, and I jerk my gaze away, willing my cheeks to cool. “Can this,” I say quietly, “go with us to our graves?”
Quin laughs dryly. “This is leverage. Why would I give it up so easily?”
I baulk. “You’d use this against me?”
“If it gets me something I want.”
I grasp the edge of the bench, glaring at his serious face. “What do you want?”
He glares back at me. “If you’re choosing to pursue this, pursue it all the way. You must pass the examinations.”
No matter how skilled, only those ranked in the top ten pass. Last year saw impressive talent turned away, talent that will be back this year, determined to place.
I narrow my eyes. “Do you have some sort of bet on me?”
Quin’s lips flatten, and after a moment, he speaks. “Something like that.”
Disappointment streaks through me and I hurriedly force it away. “Do I just have to pass? Or do you need me coming first?”
“I told you, Chiron’s son will take top place. Tenth is all you have to reach.” Quin lifts his eyes to mine. “It’ll be difficult. But you’ll do it.”
I jerk an annoyed finger at him. “Using your leverage like this is a waste.”
A raised brow.
I lean toward him. He doesn’t budge when the gap between us becomes mere inches. I jab his chest. “I don’t need your motivation.” Another jab. Quin captures it in a fist. He pulls me an inch closer, fixing on me, a slow, goading smile.
“Prove it.”