Page 57 of Princess of Air

“Here.” Tomas tosses his sword, blade aimed at the clouds, which Marcus catches on its descent. “I need a break.” He comes to my side, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “Since when do you enjoy watching this?”

“I don’t, but what other entertainment is available to me?” He only shakes his head. “What’s got you out of sorts?”

“I was angry with Rylan for abandoning you yesterday against Marcus. New information tells me you’re to blame, though.”

“Why is me telling him to continue anything to be upset about?”

“Because I can’t believe you’re really not trying.”

“I tried enough to not be eliminated.” And I will try my best not to have this conversation with every member of the Coyle family. Why is it the two people I’m closest with who feel the need to scrutinize me?

“If you had actually tried, you’d have won without anyone almost dying or the tower coming down.”

“What on earth would we have done with that tower? It couldn’t have been meant to stay there forever.”

“It’s not a joke!”

My gaze snaps up to Rylan and Marcus, but they aren’t paying attention, despite Tomas raising his voice. It’s a heartbeat before I realize there’s a shield up. I didn’t even…

“First of all, you could have been hurt.”

I cross my arms. “Tomas, you know I can protect myself.”

“Of course I do, but do you think that made it easy to see you thrown off the tower?”

Again, I remind myself it shouldn’t surprise or excite me that he cares enough to not want to see me killed. He’s always cared about me that much—all of us, actually. Still, I’m stupid enough to crave these possible signs of attachment. He’s always been my obvious weakness—part of me wants to be his. Not that it does any good. Why should I want him to be as entangled in this as I am? So his heart can break along with mine?

“I don’t know what you want me to say. It was under control, but if it’s so difficult to watch, don’t go to the next one.”

“Potential injuries aren’t nearly as difficult to watch as you stepping back to let someone else win.”

This isn’t going to end quickly, so I lead him toward the stables and continue with a soundproof barrier floating around us. “From what misguided place does this desire to see me become Queen of Alchos come from?”

“If you can win, then you are the best option the kingdom has. When did you stop caring for the well-being of your kingdom?”

Heat explodes through me. “Rylan is not a bad option! You act as if I’d allow an enemy to rule. Alchos will be in good hands, and I’ll have another kingdom to worry about.”

From the corner of my eye, I see his jaw clench. It’s not something I want to throw in his face, but if he’s going to push me, I’ll push back.

“What?”

His gaze drops. “This place won’t be the same without you, Bell. If you were our queen, you’d be here more.”

Another reason not to win—I don’t want to see Tomas once I’m married. If my wedding is the last time I ever see him, it would be a mercy. The more time I’ve spent with Jamys and with both of them together the more I realize I can’t simply choose to not be drawn to Tomas anymore. Attraction to Jamys happens, but not when Tomas’ presence overwhelms my every thought. I need distance from him to have any chance of clearing my head.

Half a continent might be enough.

“Perhaps it’s for the best if I’m not around.” My throat tightens, hating the words even if they’re true. “This has always been easier for you, but I…”

“What do you think is easy for me?” He scans the area before we step behind the stable.

Do you want me to lay my heart out on a platter? I expand my soundproofing to give myself more air that doesn’t smell like him. Being enclosed with him is torture. His heat radiates, his magnetism consuming.

“This was my idea. I said we could be friends after everything, but now I don’t see how that could work. It’s terribly unfair to you, and I’m sorry, but…” I stop too close to him, my face near his neck without any contact. “It’s so difficult for me to be around you without touching you.” I grasp fistfuls of my skirt to keep my hands to myself.

“I’ll ask you again.” His voice is crunching gravel. “What do you suppose is easy for me?”

“Restraint.” The word blows out of me, raising bumps on his neck close enough for me to lick. I can only whisper the rest of the embarrassing truth. “Sometimes, I wonder if you even want me or if you’re only placating me.”

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