Page 58 of Ruby & Onyx

If I’m being honest, I hate that we were interrupted. That kiss, the feeling of his hands on my skin, the warmth of his bare chest pressing against me… a flutter erupts in my core and works its way through my nerves.

He makes me feel things that I’m embarrassed to admit.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Again, I attempt to conjure a smile, but it refuses to stick. “But you should find better friends.”

He laughs and brushes his fingers over his hair. “He’s not so bad normally. It’s just jealousy taking hold of him.”

“What does he have to be jealous of?” Why would he be jealous of me? He’s the one who fits in here and knows his place. I would give anything to have that confidence. Maybe if he gave me a chance, then we could be friends, too.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shifts back and forth between his toes and heels like he’s dancing on a secret. “How are you feeling after our lessons?”

“Stronger,” I lie. My entire body aches from my calves to my shoulders. These workouts are taking a toll on me, making me so sore that it’s difficult to move. His smile spreads even wider as if he suspects as much. “I’m not going to invite you inside my bedroom.”

“For once, I didn’t ask.” He flashes a taunting smirk. “But I enjoy knowing that you associate the sight of me with bedroom activities.”

“I’m too tired for this.” If he stays, then I might say something that I regret. My mind is too weary to stay guarded. I start to shut the door on him, ready to resume my evening of peace and solitude, but he sticks out his foot to prevent it from closing.

“Fine, I did have a reason for coming here,” he says through the slender crack.

“I’m listening.”

“I spoke to Liliana.” Why did he say that like a question? “Do you like her?”

His eyes become narrow slits like he’s assessing me critically, and the shift in his demeanor throws me off guard. It’s so serious, so dark. Something about his energy feels threatening.

I nod as a jolt of nerves works its way through my bones. Did she tell him about the market? Does he know about the prophecy? How would he react if he knew that I was actively seeking out answers? Would he tell his parents? Or, maybe he would help me…

“That’s good. You can trust her. You know that, right?”

I nod again. I want to trust both of them… I do. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind says that this particular endeavor should remain a secret. If not for my sake, then for Gemma’s. If he let slip her involvement, then she could end up like Paul or the woman from the market.

“She told me about your adventure.” His words are slippery and frigid. That darkness continues to grow around him, encapsulating him in it like a fog. It makes me unsteady on my feet.

“Did she?” I try to still myself, to keep from betraying my nerves, as I ask, “Do you know what happened to the woman from the market?” It’s a simple question, a fair one.

“She’s back in that smelly old market selling her cheap jewelry,” he says.

I take a couple of steps back, trying to add distance between myself and that wicked glare. Olly mistakes the action as an invitation and steps inside the bedroom, just far enough for the door to click shut behind us.

“I’m glad to hear that she’s okay,” I say.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “What exactly did she say to you?”

The last thing I want is for this innocent woman to bear the same fate as Paul. So instead, I try to play it off as trivial nonsense, as if my thoughts haven’t been filled with the memory of that interaction. “Just some nonsense.”

“Humor me. What kind of nonsense?” Why is he pressing so hard on this? Maybe the king asked him to. If that’s the case, then I just learned where Olly’s allegiances lie.

Some small part of me – the same part that ignites like a flurry in my chest every time he smiles – wants to believe that isn’t the case. If he could just drop it and let the whole thing blow over, then maybe we stand a chance.

“Who knows? The woman didn’t appear to be of sound mind.” The lie contains enough truth to make it believable, or so I hope.

Please, drop it.

“And you have no recollection of what that nonsense consisted of?”

“The sort of nonsense that doesn’t need to be repeated.” I turn back to the balcony, hoping that he will take the movement as a dismissal, but he follows me. Outside, with the golden hour highlighting the peaks of his caramel skin, I consider if I’m being overly cautious once again. Maybe I should believe the best in him. Has he given me any reason to believe that he’s nothing more than an agent of his father’s will?

No, no he hasn’t.

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