Sitting up, I stifle a yawn and smooth back my hair. Azmar is leaning over that little square of kitchen counter, reading a sheaf of papers, a half-eaten floral disk in one hand, a pencil in the other. His shirt stretches nicely over his shoulders, the seam parting for the bony nubs to protrude.
I get to admire him only for a second. Despite his position as an engineer, Azmar trained as a soldier, and I was hardly stealthy in rising. He sets down breakfast and pencil and turns my way, his topaz eyes warm, his belt already strapped to his hips, his feet shod.
Panic floods me. “What time is it?” If I’m not at Unach’s to prepare breakfast, she’ll ask where I am—
He reads my mind. “Don’t worry about Unach. With an evening shift, she’s likely still sleeping.” He crosses the room, glancing out the window. “Do you report today?”
I nod, sweeping the mess of my hair into a tail over my shoulder. “Not until this afternoon.”
He leans against the side of the bed, arms folded. “Maybe you can gauge the risk of my showing my face again.”
I run my thumb over his knuckles. “You know she fights it because she loves you, not because she doesn’t want to search for a new roommate.”
“Don’t say that where she can hear.” He reaches over and plucks my hair from my hand and throws it back over my shoulder, undoing my efforts to make it neat. “The wildness suits you.”
I blow a pale strand from my face. “I’ll have you know I was practically an Alpine, where I come from.” I mean it as a joke, but thoughts of my father’s household, of his power wars and my part in them, have never sat well with me, even seven years after my escape.
Azmar’s countenance softens. “Then I have chosen wisely.” He leans forward and touches his lips to mine. All my uneasy thoughts flee. The kiss almost distracts me from his fingers splaying mine and pressing something into my palm. I hesitate to see what it is. He tastes like honey and smells like jasmine. The only thing that keeps me from fully exploring him is the time . . . and the fact that I might not taste so sweet first thing in the morning.
When I pull back, I open my hand to see a piece of jewelry, a green stone with flecks of red entwined in looping copper wire, with a simple chain strung through it. It’s beautiful.
“You don’t have to keep it.” His voice is low.
I might not have realized what it was, had he not said that. Had his words not carried a note of uncertainty.
My heart squeezes, missing a beat. I trace my fingers over the glossy surface of the pendant. “This is a bloodstone.”
He nods.
“This is your bloodstone.” My pulse quickens with each breath.
“Our customs are different than yours,” he explains, watching the stone and not my face. “Unach has spoken of this to you before—”
“Why wouldn’t I keep it?”
His gaze meets mine. I can only guess what my face looks like. I’m surprised. It’s unexpected. So soon. And yet the validation, the significance, of such a gesture floors me. I’m falling through the canyon and floating into the clouds all at once.
Azmar . . . Azmar loves me.
No one has ever truly loved me.
My vision blurs. Blinking it clear, I clutch the stone to my chest. It’s utterly perfect . . . the green surface has blue hues, just like trollis blood. Hence the name: bloodstone. But it has red flecks as well, like human blood. Like the very gem itself condones a union that every creature in this city would surely spit upon.
The wire bites into my skin, yet I’m unable to release my grip. I search Azmar’s face; there are so many things there. Patience, hope, determination, dedication. A trace of fear.
I swallow. “I-I don’t have one. One to give you.”
I didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, yet they do. He brings a calloused hand to the side of my face, sweeping away a lock of hair and cradling my jaw. “That doesn’t matter.”
I lean into his touch. “But I would give it to you, if I had one.”
Letting out a long breath, he touches his forehead to mine. We stay like that for several seconds, sharing air, sharing thoughts. “I want you to stay here, Lark.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Here, in this room.” He pulls back and meets my gaze. “In my bed.”
I swallow. “The council—”
“It isn’t illegal.” He frowns. “Technically.”
I press my lips together. “Perg told me what happened to his parents. I don’t want to hurt you, Azmar.”