Page 27 of Artemysia
“Yes. You?” I jab a finger stiffly at the flowers. “You’ve never been to Stargazer, you said. Already met someone here?”
“I havenotbeen to Stargazer before. And yes, these are for a woman,” he remarks mildly.
An irrational prick of jealousy strikes. I almost let it show on my face, but I recover and press my lips into a thin smile.
“I hope you’re not interrupted by an owl,” I say pointedly, but the quip backfires when the image of his hand splayed across my breast plays in my head. My ears heat up at the memory, even though it was a week ago, and apparently he’s met someone else he’s buying flowers for on the eve of our departure.
“Let’s hope not.” He’s heavy-lidded and solemn, but the edges of his lips twitch. He breaks off a large violet peony from his bouquet and offers it up to me.
“It’s not poison, like you,” he says flatly. In daylight, his eyes are molten silver, as mercurial as his mood. They drink me in, though he remains unreadable.
I fight the sudden, insane urge both to kick his assandto kiss him. I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t.
It’s not poison, like you.What does that even mean? I lower my brows and reach for the bloom. When I pluck the flower from him, our fingers touch briefly, and the soft warmth lingers even after he draws them away.
The blossom’s aroma is ambrosial and rich, like expensive perfume oil. Inhaling deeply again, I soak in the bewitching scent of the velvet petals, pressing the bloom to my face for a lack of anything to say to him.
He blinks up at me from under dark lashes. His scarred eye has healed cleanly. His voice drops, and I expect another snide remark.
Instead, he says, “It’s not poison like you… But it smells amazing, like you.” His low tone resonates into the center of my chest, puckering my nipples. How dare he be ridiculous and charming?Resist harder, Delphine.
The air between us grows thick and warm. I feel my cheeks flush in untamed temptation.
But it smells amazing, like you.
Damn him.
“See you tomorrow, Riev.” I’m relieved when my voice comes out aloof. He’s trying to throw me, and I won’t let him win. But I know when to retreat from a battle, if only temporarily.
“Captain.” He bows mockingly, his eyes never leaving mine.
I ride on, while he walks beside me until the next intersection, where he turns right. Still holding the large purple bloom, I slow down, pretending to fiddle with my saddlebag to tuck in the flower. Riev strides down the narrow side street, his long legs taking him quickly away from me to the end of the row of cottages.
He doesn’t care to look back, so I continue with my shameless spying.
When he saunters past the last house, the path becomes dirt, and he swings open a low iron gate into a grassy garden dotted with headstones.
The local cemetery.
He disappears behind a tree. I urge my elk forward, craning my neck, but I’ve lost sight of him.
Does he know someone who’s buried here? Or did he turn in only because he suspected I was watching?
My brow furrows. Military deaths are honored at the Academy burial sites.
This visit must be personal.
Would a ruthless assassin have sentimental feelings for the dead?
If so, who?
I steal one more glance over my shoulder, spying movement among the trees in the graveyard. To avoid being caught by him, I maneuver sideways into an alley and change course with unnecessary haste back to the Academy.
Who does he care enough about to visit before a deadly mission?
I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to find out in the next few days.
If we live that long.
