Page 60 of Bound By Darkness

“That won’t be necessary.” My hand thumped against his chest from where it rested. It was a wall of muscle.Shit.“I win,” I said, my hand removing from his shirt as I hid the heat creeping into the back of my neck.

Ivan’s puzzled brows slowly unraveled as a grin appeared on his lips. “You cheated.”

Fin gaped. “By the Mother.”

“You said it yourself. There is no cheating in war,” I said, the smell of rosewood nearly intoxicating.

“Wait. Were you faking everything? I mean, we needed water,” Fin said, his eyes tracing mine.

I shook my head. “No. I did overexert myself, but it was part of the plan.”

“Elaborate,” Ivan stated.

“I knew if I overexerted myself, I could play on your arrogance. If your prized possession injured herself, you’d forget the rules. You can thank my father for that piece of wisdom and years of stealing.” A wide grin crossed my face as I remembered how many trinkets I’d stolen from the King’s storage sheds—a quick sleight of hand was all it took.

Fin whistled. “You were played.”

Ivan’s face remained impassive as he averted his gaze. “Enough for tonight. Let’s eat and rest.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a sore loser,” I teased.

“I said enough! We’ll train again tomorrow.” Ivan swiped the canteen from the ground before heading to the horses.

Fin whistled low. “I guess he’s still a sore loser.”

Somehow, I didn’t believe his words.

“Come on,” Fin said. “Food’s ready.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Ivan briefly before digging into the food. As I chewed on a carrot, I couldn’t shake the image of Ivan’s face as I’d said those words to him.

They had struck a chord, and by the gods, it bothered me.

Fin fell asleep first, his snores in tempo with the sizzling of the dying fire.

Shifting over on my makeshift bed, I stared at the empty quilt across from mine, the mismatched cross-stitches barely holding the flowery squares together.

It’d been empty all night.

Grabbing the edges of my quilt, I sat as my eyes scanned the surrounding area for him. I needed these revolving thoughts in my head to stop.

I found him near the edge of our makeshift camp, his back leaning against a decaying oak stump. He faced the shaded forest, no sound echoing from where he sat.

I quietly shuffled to him as I avoided twigs and pinecones. One wrong step and Fin would wake from his slumber.

“Not interested,” Ivan said as I stepped over a pile of charred wood.

He had a dagger in hand as he chipped away layers of bark from a lone branch.

“Come on,” I pleaded. “Fin’s snoring so loud I heard it in my dreams.”

My eyes traveled over the two black swords beside him.

Ivan flicked his eyes to mine. “Fine,” he said as he resumed his carving.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I sat beside him, one of the swords resting between us.

“I said you could join. Didn’t say we’d converse.”

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