Page 76 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
It worked quickly, braiding my hair into a simple plait. Then it vanished just as fast.
I didn’t want Zayn to see it. Or knowing I could harness Magecraft. I wasn’t sure if I could trust him.
I stepped out of the bath chamber—ready to sneak out again if I had to—but froze.
He was awake. And dressed.
Black trousers, a loose cream tunic half-laced at the chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His white hair was pulled back. His green eyes met mine, already full of that familiar, aggravating spark.
“Well,” he drawled, leaning against the windowsill. “Look who survived the wine bath.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish I drowned in it.”
“Briefly,” he said with a shrug. “But then who would take up half my bed and sweat all over my sheets?”
I opened my mouth, but the words caught as his gaze dropped over me—lingering just long enough to make my skin itch.
“You still look like you haven’t eaten in a week,” he said casually. “Honestly, I thought after a few weeks with the prince, you’d have filled out a little.”
My jaw clenched. “Good to see your charming personality survived your absence.”
He grinned. “Missed me, Peach?”
“I missed silence.”
“Well, that’s about to change.” He stepped forward, arms folded. “I’ll be taking over your training from now on.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“No.” I took a step closer. “No, no, absolutely not. I would rather train with a drunken horse thief in a swamp than spend another hour listening to you bark orders.”
His grin widened. “Unfortunately, I’m harder to get rid of than that.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re untrained.” His eyes flicked over me again, sharper this time. “You want to survive what’s coming? You do it my way. Or you don’t do it at all.”
I stepped right into his space, barely keeping myself from shoving him. “Why don’t you go crawl back to whatever mountain you sulked on for the past few weeks and let me train with someone who doesn’t talk like a complete ass?”
Zayn’s gaze darkened slightly—but not with anger.
He was amused.
Too amused.
“Still warming the prince’s bed?” he asked quietly. “Or did he finally realize you’d rather bite than beg?”
I saw red. “I’m not with the prince anymore.”
That flicker—barely a blink—passed through his eyes. Something unreadable. Gone too fast.
“Good for him,” he said flatly.
“Gods, you’re such a—”
“You talk too much,” he said as he cut me off.
