Chapter 29 #2
He moved so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck, the soft, warm air sending prickles of awareness down my spine.
His intense demeanor still set me on edge, but it was mostly difficult because of how aware I was of my own body whenever he was near.
As if my clothes were burned off me every time he so much as cast me a glance over his shoulder, or touched my ear when replacing my spectacles.
My skin came alive; every movement I made felt so much bigger.
The scent of him took over everything—the smell of brand-new spring and fresh pine and an uncurling vine.
“Yes, of course.” My voice came out as an unnatural squeak, and I cursed myself for being so disturbed by him.
He blinked at me and took the paper in hand.
“We haven’t searched the lower mountains, given the rebel attacks.
” He placed a finger on a point in the map that I assumed was where we were.
“It’s also a place with limited access to magic because of protection spells cast by the ancient peris.
” He flexed his jaw and looked up at the Viceroy.
“You might not have to worry about that given that you are from Salt.”
The Viceroy smiled, a thin, reedy grin that reminded me of the slash of a blade. “Oh, I think I’m limited by the same conditions you are, Kiyan, since all my powers now primarily come from the Court of River.” He placed a hand on the gold sunken into his skin and traced the jagged peaks of it.
I didn’t know what that meant, but Kiyan’s gaze shadowed, and I could tell it wasn’t a positive thing, whatever he was saying.
“Interesting that you didn’t think it was necessary to look here, with the Queen Azari’s connection to the lower mountains.” The Viceroy’s voice had an edge to it.
Kiyan shook his head. “There was never cause to. And with all the trouble with the rebels, it became a matter of balancing priorities.” His own words were level, and I was impressed at how steadily he held his own against the Viceroy.
It was as if he were managing him.
The Viceroy’s gaze grew stormy and petulant. “This should be our priority.”
Kiyan gave a tight nod, “And it will be,” then looked at me.
“Will she be joining us when we enter the vault?” I bristled at him talking about me as if I were not there, but this seemed to be a silent war going on between the Viceroy and his hunting dog.
One that reminded me of a violent, petulant teenager and a placating parent.
“I rather think so, given that it was her magic that got us here,” the Viceroy snapped.
“Of course.” Kiyan smoothed out his dark blue uniform, the silver emblem of the three-pointed crystal on his shoulder nearly glowing in the late afternoon light.
They stared at each other, and I distanced myself from the clear power struggle, walking away from them and toward the tents instead. I didn’t think I could escape them and find the vault on my own, but at least I could try and study as much as I could to prepare us for the next steps.
But as soon as I entered the closest tent, I froze in shock—it was like being back in one of the bedrooms in the River palace.
Instead of the dark inside of a tent with a bedroll and a small lantern, as I was used to when we had camped at Citadel dig sites, this one had a full bed, laid out with pillows, bedding, embroidered indigo coverlets, a fluffy rug that came from the skin of some unknown creature with soft periwinkle fur.
There was even a table laden with food and a bathing stand for washing.
I stood open-mouthed, surveying the room.
There was a rustle behind me, and the tent flap lifted open. I turned to find Kiyan, who stopped short at finding me in there.
“Is this tent yours?” I asked, my heart beating rapidly. It had been a few days since we’d been alone together, and I found that every day there was a growing awareness of him. “I can go to the other one.”
I walked back to the entrance, but he raised his hands to stop me, his face impassive.
“Unnecessary, I’ll go.” He turned to leave, but I couldn’t stand the atmosphere between us any longer.
He’d saved my life twice now, got brand new spectacles made just for me, and though he acted like he hated me and didn’t want to be anywhere near me, he seemed to be everywhere. If we were going to be working together, I couldn’t let this tension between us continue.
“Wait.”
He paused at the threshold and looked over his shoulder at me, his mouth tight.
My heart was lodged in my throat, my pulse hammering. I was used to books and old tombs and translations in dusty rooms, not confronting seven-foot-tall fae warriors who wrestled wolves the size of horses.
“I never got the chance to thank you for what you did.”
He arched a brow in question, turning to face me.
“When you pulled me out of that creature I tried to fight at the palace. And for covering me . . . when my clothes burned off.” I said the last words in a hurried rush and felt my cheeks heat.
Kiyan cleared his throat. “You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”
“It’s not your job to rescue me from a burning, decomposing leaf creature I threw myself into and cover my bare arse with your cloak. Nor to provide me with brand new spectacles. So that’s why I’m thanking you.” My words fell out in a rush.
Kiyan gave a small smile in the corner of his mouth, and something lifted in my chest at seeing it. He leaned against one of the tent poles, crossing his arms over his chest, taking me in. I waited, as he seemed to want to say something.
“How did you do it?” he asked finally, his tone low. His voice was so smooth and soft it nearly had me closing my eyes.
“Do it?” I whispered back. “I don’t understand.”
He stood and started walking toward me. “Tell me again. How did you kill the creature?” He stopped so close to me, as close as when I’d held the map. My answer seemed vital to him somehow, and his eyes gleamed with something hot and fierce.
“I don’t know. I was inside it, and all of a sudden I felt it burst into flame around me, as if it lit up from the inside, and everything was burning except me.”
There was silence between us, but it was so weighted I felt as if I couldn’t draw breath to disturb it.
His eyes searched me, looking for something he couldn’t quite see.
Finally, he reached up, his fingers brushing against my curls, the rough edges I hadn’t had time to cut before we left captured between his forefinger and thumb.
“It burned your hair. You weren’t entirely untouched.”
A sudden urge grabbed me, and I reached up to touch my hair, brushing against his hand.
“Do you have your dagger?” I asked, my voice urgent.
“I . . . what?” He straightened. “Yes?”
“Can I use it, please?”
“My . . . dagger?”
I arched a brow. “I really resent the way you just said that.”
A startled laugh erupted from him, and I smothered a smile.
“Yes, your actual knife. The beautiful one you killed the halmasti with.”
He pulled out the blade from his hip, the snake head still fierce, with golden emeralds for eyes. He handed it over to me wordlessly.
I held it up to my hair, measuring how much I would need to chop off the burnt parts. Right at shoulder height. I hadn’t worn my hair that short since I was a child.
He watched my hands work as I hacked away at my hair, hoping that I made everything a bit better looking, not worse. But when I got to the strands at the back, I struggled.
“Here.” His voice was closer and I jumped at the intimacy contained in that one word.
He took the blade back from me, his calloused hands brushing my ink-stained ones as he gripped the hilt.
It felt like I was playing with fire, doing this, the tension between us, the blade.
Then he bade me turn around in front of him. I complied and he took a step closer to me, the warmth of him along my back.
His breath was a whisper across my skin as he carefully lifted a handful of my hair from my nape.
The tips of his fingers brushed my neck, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
Every single thing felt heightened between us, that small touch from his hand as if he’d placed his whole mouth there.
Then he pulled my hair down in a methodical manner so he could cut.