Her hand stilled, her entire body freezing. His mother’s warning rang in her mind. She was playing with fire.
Stupidly, that knowledge didn’t steal her desire to kiss him. His lips, slightly parted, drew her. She longed to crawl into his lap and—
Vlerion closed his eyes. He didn’t hum this time, but she sensed him withdrawing, gathering his calm, reaffixing the mask.
“Are you asking if I feel as strongly about you as I do Targon?” He sounded dry, even amused, as if she’d asked a silly thing.
“Well, I’d hope they would be a different kind of feelings.” Kaylina struggled not to be stung by the implied dismissal.
Vlerion leaned back, removing his arm from her shoulders. The distance made her hand drop from his head.
“My mother raised me to be disturbed by seeing women in danger, to want to protect them.” He shrugged.
“Ah.” That was noble, she supposed, but such disappointment swelled in her that it surprised her. She hadn’t consciously realized she wanted him to say he cared, but she must have. Why, she didn’t know. She hadn’t known him that long, and they were different. Too different. “So any girl being chomped on by a furry shark would have made you turn?”
“Likely so.”
A clattering of wheels on cobblestones alerted them to a wagon approaching, and Vlerion rose, lifting a hand to the driver.
Kaylina blew out a long breath. She was slower to rise, and when she did, she needed the wall for support. The mead had made her unwise, and she was glad she hadn’t succeeded in doing… whatever the libidinous part of her brain thought it wanted.
“Maybe I’ll stay here,” she said.
“Your brother needs you.”
“I thought he was safe?” She searched Vlerion’s eyes.
“He’s been tended, but he’s bereft without your companionship.”
“I’m positive he didn’t say that.”
“I could tell.”
Kaylina did feel obligated to check on Frayvar. “All right.”
“I’ve observed something about you.” Vlerion picked up her bottles of mead to load carefully into the wagon.
“I’m not sure whether to ask what or hope you won’t tell me.” She didn’t want to be analyzed.
“You’ll move the world to help those you care about. You have a hard time moving even your own body to help yourself.”
“That’s not true,” she said more out of reflex than because he was wrong. When he looked frankly at her, she amended her statement. “That’s not always true. Sometimes, I’m full of energy, and I have these great dreams and visions of a future I can make. Then I can move myself. But other times, I’m too tired, and everything is much harder. You can’t blame me for being tired after this day.” She flung a hand toward the castle, then immediately felt guilty. He was the one who’d risked his life to heave that rack off Frayvar. And he was the one who spent every day concentrating on staying calm in a world full of angst, lest he turn into a beast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t complain. A normal person wouldn’t complain about little things.”
“It’s all right.”
“Domas always told me I’m not normal.”
No, he’d asked why she couldn’t be normal.
“Who is that?”
“Someone I had a relationship with. It’s over.”
“Ah.” As they finished loading the mead, Vlerion said, “For what it’s worth, I’ve observed that normal people complain a lot.”
“I suppose.”
“I’ll come for you at dawn for training.” Vlerion helped her into the wagon, then stepped back. Maybe he needed to return to the catacombs. “The king has a speech at noon, after which the Spring Salutation Holiday starts, and the rangers will need to position themselves in case there is an attack tomorrow night. We’ll work out early. As we discussed, you have potential we must unlock.”