Page 12 of Rules of Stone
“I’ll make up my own mind if it’s all the same to you,” I tell Arisha, hissing as I pick up my spoon. The abrasions on my palms aren’t deep, but they sting.
“Well, if I’ve not found my two new favorite lasses,” Tye says, putting his tray down on the small table right after a heady citrus-and-pine scent fills my nose. Pulling a chair out for himself, he turns it around and straddles it in a smooth motion, his attention fully on Arisha. “I need a favor, braids.”
The small kernel of hope that I dared feel dies in my chest.
“And at least half the students in Great Falls would happily trip over themselves to grant you your heart’s desires,” Arisha tells him, her too-keen eyes taking in my reaction. “So go bother them.”
Tye flashes her a smile. “Aye, but see, it is the kind of favoryouare best at—the mathematics kind. With numbers. And symbols. And counting.”
“Counting? Well, I’d certainly not expect you to go beyond twenty on your own.” Arisha tilts her head, her fingers worrying her left braid. The loose hair sticks out wildly enough to make the girl competitive for a scarecrow position. “What’s in it for me?”
“Whatever you wish.” Tye scoots his chair closer to her. “I can fetch your food while you work, massage your shoulders…get you a hair ribbon or ten.”
Arisha moves her chair away. “I help you with your math homework. You help Leralynn with her hands.” My eyes widen, but Arisha avoids my gaze, her attention now wholly on her food. “Given the amount of time you spend twirling around a stick for applause, you must know what to do with that.” She waves in my direction.
“What happened?” Tye turns toward me, his long lashes and sharply angled face so painfully beautiful that I hate myself for my own heart’s stutter. For how much my body longs for the warrior’s touch, even knowing it’s spurred by nothing but the rules of Arisha’s transaction.Stars.I’m better than this. I hope I’m better than this.
“Coal happened.” I pull my hands onto my lap. “And I don’t need help. Thank you, though.”
Reaching over the table with his long arms, Tye snatches my wrist impertinently. “Sorry, lass, but I’m not risking failing mathematics. They’ll bar me from competing.” Placing the back of my wrist onto the tabletop, the male opens my fingers gently, drawing a small breath as he assesses the damage with a knowing gaze. “Was it a rope?” Tye asks, the concern in his voice the first genuine thing I’ve heard since meeting him here.
“No.”
Tye’s emerald eyes flicker up to mine.
I study a rip in my sleeve.
“A secret. I like those.” Dipping a corner of his linen napkin into a water glass, Tye dabs gently against the cuts, his grip on my wrist tightening when I try to pull away. “Hold on, lass. We need to wash the sand out before this turns from nuisance to corruption.”
We.The word pierces me. Lifting my face, I find Tye absorbed in his work, those sharply angled cheekbones with their constellation of nearly invisible freckles tightened in concentration, one lock of red hair falling over his forehead, his hand as warm against the back of mine as if his fire magic had brushed the skin. I try not to soak him in too obviously, but it’s desperately hard. Tye wets the napkin again, his rolled-up sleeves showing off his muscled arms.
I brace myself for the sting.
Tye pauses. This time, instead of bringing the cloth directly to my palm, he runs his thumb firmly over my forearm.
I gasp softly, my sore muscles singing at the exquisite pressure that radiates up my arm.
“Be good and I’ll do that again,” Tye murmurs, a corner of his mouth twitching.
“I—”
“Tyelor.” The unexpected sound of River’s voice makes my heart jump, then race like a rabbit.
Turning, I find River standing beside our table, the aura of command hanging about him with familiar ease. Back straight, River holds his hands behind him, his well-cut red coat buttoned high up his neck.
11
Lera
Arisha and Tye rise at once, and by the time I follow their example a few moments later, the two are already bowing.
“Good morning, sir,” Arisha and Tye say together, just as I mouth,River.
River’s beautiful gray eyes slide over me with enough scrutiny to tighten my chest—and no familiarity. Although I was little expecting it by now, its absence still stings. “Your servant, ma’am,” River says dryly. “I presume I’ve the pleasure of addressing Lady Leralynn of Osprey, who managed to break curfew last night and get on the wrong side of an instructor this morning?” River’s keen gaze flickers over my hands, the distance between us widening with each passing breath. He’s painfully handsome and somehow even taller and more imposing than I remember, as if we’ve spent years apart already.
“Yes,” I answer, searching his eyes for something—anything.
A pause. Pregnant. Waiting.
