26

Erynae entered the library not long after, and her eyes caught Rhovyn seated close beside Ryska at the window seat, she slowed her step, studying the two of them with narrowed and considering eyes, some fresh and delighted suspicion formed behind her expression.

Rhovyn caught the look and shot her a glare sharp enough to warn her off any comment she might be gathering, and Erynae, entirely unbothered by the warning, only let her smile widen further still before turning and heading up the stairs toward the first floor.

She bumped, quite literally, into Daevosky at the top of the stairs, nearly upsetting the small stack of books he carried, and he caught them against his chest just in time.

"Careful," he said, "or you'll be paying for whatever damage your enthusiasm causes."

"Worth every coin," Erynae said, "for what I just witnessed downstairs."

He fell into step beside her and leaned casual against the shelving as she searched for book. "And what, precisely, did you witness?"

"I witnessed something in the making," Erynae said working fingers on lines of books, "perhaps a romance, if the two of them ever work up the nerve to admit it to themselves."

"Do you ever wish to participate in one yourself?" Daevosky raised an eyebrow.

Erynae looked at him and the world seemed to lose its rhythm, she forgot the book beneath her fingers, forgot the shelves surrounding them, and even forgot that she had been searching for anything at all. Her eyes remained upon Daevosky as though she were trying to determine whether he had truly asked what she thought he had asked.

Then, almost abruptly, she gathered the nearest book from the shelf and carried it toward the long reading table. She sat with a little more force than necessary, placing the book before her as though its pages might somehow rescue her from the look he had given her.

Daevosky watched the entire performance, and amusement slowly curved his mouth. He joined her a moment later, settled into the seat beside her, resting one elbow along the back of the chair and the other against the edge of the table, then loosely joined his hands before him.

“I have heard it is quite the sport,” his voice carried that quiet amusement that made the words feel far more dangerous than they ought to have.

Erynae lifted her eyes again, she had expected another jest, another easy remark that would allow her to laugh and move past the strange question, but he watched her with such open interest that the answer came before she could reconsider it. “I have not yet met an opponent worth dragging me into it," she returned her attention to the book, though she did not turn a single page.

Ah, the thought came with such immediate delight that he nearly laughed, he looked at her as though he had discovered some hidden blade beneath silk, something sharp and beautifully concealed until the right hand reached for it. She had not even looked at him when she delivered the answer, yet she had left the challenge hanging between them as plainly as a drawn sword.

“An opponent?” he repeated and then leaned a fraction closer. “Then perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places.”

Erynae narrowed her eyes at him, and the glare she gave him carried enough warning to have stopped a wiser man, but Daevosky only stared. He had expected embarrassment, perhaps a retreat behind the safety of her book, but instead she had given him that sharp, unimpressed stare as though she were already deciding precisely how much trouble he was worth.

He nearly laughed and looked at her as though she had just drawn a blade before him and dared him to step closer. Her eyes narrowed further hearing him laugh and Daevosky nearly lost whatever remained of his composure.

Gods, she was magnificent and he had no idea what possessed her to look at him that way, but he found himself wanting to provoke that expression again simply to see it return.

Ah, this woman, she had no idea what she had just done to him. Gods, he liked her already.

“Are you treating the library as a battlefield?” Erynae asked.

“Only because you seem determined to draw first blood," his smile deepened.

“I have not drawn anything.”

“Your eyes disagree.”

She gave him a long, flat stare and he seemed delighted by it. “If this is how you defend yourself,” he said, leaning a fraction closer, “I fear I may have wandered into dangerous territory.”

“You may leave.”

“I could.”

“You clearly have no intention of doing so," Erynae returned her attention to book.

“The library is quiet,” he said. “The shelves are tall, the tables are sturdy, and apparently the company is dangerous.”

“Your courage is remarkable," she looked at him.

“Your lack of amusement wounds me.”

“You will survive.”

“I was beginning to think you might care," he smiled.

"Let me study," she reached for the book still clutched loose in her hands.

He closed it gently before she could open it properly, tapped one finger against the cover and arched brow with amusement. "Are you studying," he asked, "Infantry Formations of the Northern Campaigns?"

She looked down at the title properly and heat rushed up her neck, all the way to her ears. Gods, she thought, screaming silently behind her own composed expression, this man has thoroughly, completely muddled every last one of my senses if I cannot even manage to grab the correct book from a shelf.

"Did you decide," Daevosky leaned back in his chair, "to abandon your cavalry training entirely and take up the sword instead?"

"Daevosky," she managed a warning voice despite herself.

He caught the heat rising fast behind her tone and raised both hands at once in surrender. "A simple mishap, here..." he reached for the correct book from his stack and set it in her hands instead. "Let us be good students, Erynae."

They studied on together through the remainder of the morning until the bell tolled for breakfast.

Erynae rose at once and Daevosky fell into step behind her down the stairs only to watch her go to Rhovyn, the moment they reached the ground floor, as though the whole of the morning, she'd just spent beside Daevosky had simply dissolved from memory the instant she'd caught sight of him.

She said she has not yet met an opponent worth the wanting, he thought as he watched her laugh at something Rhovyn had said and suddenly the earlier warmth she'd shared with Daevosky feel suddenly, foolishly uncertain. What if she has already found one, and simply does not yet know to call it that? What if the comfort between her and Rhovyn, the friendship worn so comfortable, so familiar, so entirely without the flustered heat she'd carried around Daevosky only moments before was not friendship at all, but something already rooted, something she herself had never once paused long enough to properly examine?

His chest cracked at the thought of it, and understanding rose to meet the ache with a clarity he hadn't asked for and couldn't now unlearn.

Oh, he thought, staring after her retreating back, I want her. Gods help me, I want her entirely, and I have no notion at all what I mean to do about it, now that wanting has finally decided to make itself known so plainly, and so inconveniently, all at once.