Page 228 of The Ascended
"Eat," he said, gesturing to the spread before us. A loaf, still steaming. Seared pork. Fluffy eggs with peppers and onions. "You need your strength."
I tore off a piece of bread. "For what, exactly?"
His eyes darkened. "Don’t play coy, starling."
“The Trials?” I asked, innocence lacing my voice.
“Among other things.”
The way he said it sent a shiver across my skin.
Strange, how quickly things had shifted between us. Two months ago I'd have sooner cut out my own tongue than share a meal with the Warden. Now I couldn't stop remembering the wayhe'd gasped against my throat, the reverent way his hands had mapped my body.
"You're thinking very loudly," he said, breaking into my thoughts.
I looked up to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you pay too close attention."
"The robe isn’t helping. Or rather, the lack of it in places far too distracting to ignore."
I smiled. “That might have been intentional.”
“I have no doubt,” he murmured, setting down his fork. “However, I need to leave shortly. There's urgent business I must attend to."
My heart sank. "What kind of business?"
"The kind that can't wait." His tone was final, but there was hesitation in his eyes.
"Is it about Nyvora?" The question slipped out, small and pathetic.
Surprise flickered across his eyes. Or maybe it was guilt. "No," he said after a beat too long. "It's not about Nyvora."
"I see," I said, setting down my goblet before I could throw it at his perfect fucking face. "When will you be back?"
"Tonight." He hesitated, then added. “Will you wait up for me?”
Gods help me, the question knocked the fight right out of me.
"I’ll try my best, Warden."
His lips curved into a small smile. "Good."
"Before you go—is there any way I could see Thatcher before the next trial?" I said, dragging a napkin across my lower lip.
He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "That may be difficult."
"Because of Chavore?" I pressed.
"Chavore and I have not been on friendly terms for a long time,” he said carefully. "My presence in his domain would be... unwelcome. A request for a visit here, even more so."
I frowned. "You've only been immortal for, what, a decade? How much bad blood could there possibly be?"
His laugh was harsh, humorless. "You'd be surprised how quickly things can sour. The fact that he’s essentially a well-trained lapdog for Olinthar certainly doesn’t help the situation." He pushed back from the table, rising. "I'll think on it."
"It's important, Xül," I said, rising as well. "I need to see him."
He nodded, his expression softening. "I’ll try to find a way."
The tenderness in his voice undid me. I reached for him, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants, holding him in place. "How urgent is this meeting?"
