I start to nod, then shake my head. “I need to read faster.”
She studies my expression, and two lines appear between her eyebrows. “I asked what you were looking for, but I should have asked what will happen if you don’t find it.”
“People will die.” My stomach sinks lower with every word I sign. “That’s all I can say.”
She sits with that for a few seconds. “Have you at least told your squadmates whatever it is you’re too scared to tell me?”
“No.” I hesitate, struggling to find the words. “I can’t let anyone else die because of me. I’ve already put you in too much danger.”
“You gave me a choice. Don’t you think they deserve the same?” She levels a disappointed look on me when I don’t answer. “I’ll bring you a new selection tonight. Meet me on the bridge at eight.” She steps into my space. “Saturdays, Violet. Or you’ll get us caught.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
It was only when we pushed the wards to their true limits, extending them far past what we first thought possible and to what I now question as sustainable, that we defined the borders of Navarre, regretfully knowing not every citizen would benefit from their protection.
—THE JOURNEY OF THE FIRST SIX, A SECONDHAND ACCOUNT BY SAGAR OLSEN, FIRST CURATOR OF THE SCRIBE QUADRANT, BASGIATH WAR COLLEGE—TRANSLATED INTO THE COMMON LANGUAGE BY CAPTAIN MADILYN CALROS, TWELFTH CURATOR OF THE SCRIBE QUADRANT, BASGIATH WAR COLLEGE—TRANSLATED AND REDACTED FOR ACADEMIC CONSUMPTION BY COLONEL PHINEAS CARTLAND, TWENTY-SEVENTH CURATOR OF THE SCRIBE QUADRANT, BASGIATH WAR COLLEGE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You’re early!” I blurt when Xaden opens my door Saturday morning to find me on the floor of my room, surrounded by every history text I own and the two Jesinia loaned me.
Shit, I’m supposed to meet her in less than an hour.
He blinks and shuts the door behind him. “Hello to you, too.”
“Hi,” I respond, my voice softening. The elation of seeing him is tempered by the shadows under his eyes. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to make it until noon, if they even let you come and— You look…exhausted.” Even his movements are slower. Not by much, but I notice.
“That’s what every man wants to hear.” He sets his swords by the door and drops his pack right next to them. Like it’s where they go. Like this room is partly his, too. Like his room at Samara feels like it’s mine. Neither of us has ever asked for separate quarters.
Maybe I can’t fully trust him, but I also can’t stand to be away from him.
“I didn’t say you aren’t beautiful. I implied that you need a nap.” I nod toward my empty bed. “You should sleep.”
His slow smile stops my heart. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Like you don’t already know that.” I roll my eyes and flip the page in The Journey of the First Six, a Secondhand Account, averting my gaze. “I also think you smell like you’ve been flying for twelve hours.” It’s not exactly true, but maybe it will check the already enormous ego I just inflated.
“Gods, I missed you.” He laughs and rips off his flight jacket, revealing the short sleeves of his summer uniform and indecently toned arms.
I breathe through the impulse to forget every single worry for a couple of hours by laying him out over this floor and try like hell to concentrate on the text in front of me.
“Think anyone will report me for using the bathing chamber?” He’s already rummaging through his pack.
“I don’t think anyone would report you for cold-blooded murder around here, let alone taking a bath.”
“Lieutenants aren’t exactly supposed to be sleeping in cadets’ quarters when they visit,” he tells me. “We’re breaking a few rules.”
“Never bothered you before.” Letting his assumption that he’s sleeping here slide, I glance up from the book and immediately regret it when I see that he’s shirtless. Gods help me if he strips off anything else.
“Didn’t say it bothered me now.” He stands, his arms full of fresh clothes from his pack. “Just don’t want to see you punished for my actions. I thought they were going to find a way to send you on maneuvers today, or just lock you away.”
“Me too.” Awareness spreads through every part of my body as I lock eyes with him. “I’m sure they’ll find a dark cellar for you next week, so we should try to enjoy this one.”
“You and I have different definitions of the word ‘enjoy.’” He gestures to the books scattered on my floor.
“Not really.” I scan the page quickly and flip to the next. “I think spending the day tangled up in that bed together would be enjoyable, but since you drew your line, here I am with boring, sexless books.”
“Say those three little words, and I’ll have you naked in seconds.” He looks at me with so much heat that I do a double take when I glance up, my breath catching.
“I want you.” All day. Every day.
“Those are not the three words I need.” He slides into my mind like a caress. “And why aren’t your shields up?”
“Well, those are the words you get without full disclosure.” I rip my gaze away. “And it’s just us in here.”
“Hmmm.” He gives me a look I can’t decipher. “I’ll be right back.”
“You don’t really smell,” I whisper, loath to let him out of my sight for even a second.
“Get any closer, and you’ll take that back.” He leaves, and I do my best to concentrate on the book in front of me and not the thought that he’s about to be naked down the hall.
All I have to do is be honest with him about how I feel, and I can have him. His body, at least. But isn’t that all I really had before? Ironic that it’s my truthfulness that can put me out of my own misery when it’s his candor I crave. I guess in that way, we’re alike, both wanting more than the other person is willing to risk.
A few minutes later, he walks back in and the room feels instantly smaller, or maybe it’s the jump in my heart rate making it feel harder to breathe and not the lack of air.
“That was quick.” I’ve only read another twenty pages or so but I don’t bother hiding the two books I need to return. It’s not like he’d know which are mine and which are borrowed. The less I have to hide, the better.
“I could make so many innuendos, but I’ll refrain.” He tosses his things into his pack, then sinks into the armchair and leans forward, bracing his forearms on spread knees. He picks a book up off the floor. “Where are all the books from? You didn’t have this many last year.”
“Mostly from my old room in the main college.” I skim the current page and sigh. This book is mostly scribe-centric stories about the Great War that are heavily redacted, with one vague passage about discovering the ability to extend the wards. “I crated them before Parapet and thought my mother would have shipped them off to storage, but it appears she is more sentimental than Mira or I thought. They were right where I left them.” It had been a surprising discovery. Nothing had been touched in my old room, like I was expected back at any minute. “Really, you should get some sleep.”