Page 63 of Fortress of Ambrose
She froze, remembering.
“If my questions make you uncomfortable, we don’t have—”
“Your questions make me feel close to you.”
Yagrin broke their eye contact.There it is again.Something that caused him to pull back from her.It has to be Red.
“She did many things. But the worst was probably being chained to a cement block as she rubbed heated Sun Dust all over my body.”
“Deplorable.”
“I left.” Shehadto stop talking, but it felt so good to open up. Especially with someone whose heart she trusted.
“Where did you go?”
“Here and there. I just ran. Until I couldn’t anymore.”
“So your brother is trying to do you a favor?”
“No. He isn’t. I don’t want to be Headmistress. But I don’t trust him tobring me back from the dead!” The chocolate squares were getting all over her hands. Yagrin brought the stick with a scorched marshmallow to her. She squeezed the marshmallow between the chocolate and pulled it off the stick. First on hers, then on his.
“I’ll take that.” He reached for his cracker-less s’more, but the chocolate was all gooey next to the hot marshmallow. “This is a disaster.”
She giggled as he tried and failed to pull the quickly deteriorating treat from her fingers. It was no use.
“Open up.” She shoved the sugary mess into his mouth.
“Mmmm.” His lips lingered around her fingers. Meanwhile, in her other hand, her own confection had lost its shape.
“Your turn.” He took her by the wrist.
“No, wait!” She wriggled. But the s’more ran smack-dab into her mouth, with more on the outside than in.
“You!” She scooped a finger of chocolate off her face and swiped it across his. He warmed another square of chocolate over the fire and returned the favor. So did she. This time she swiped it across his chest.
“We should probably get inside,” he said, eyeing the place where her finger on his bare chest lingered. Then he took off his shirt. “You have a little something.” He pointed, and she leaned into it. He smoothed his shirt carefully over her face, wiping the chocolate. He was slow around her lips, and when her face was clean, he used his thumb to brush a last bit of food from the corner of her mouth. She turned into his touch. But he cleared his throat and started cleaning his own hands and face with his shirt.
“Yagrin, stop running.” She set her fingers back on his chest tentatively.
“What are you talking about? I—” But his next words left him. His brown eyes shimmered golden in the evening light. She let herself relax her hand on his body, finger by finger. He didn’t move. She stepped closer until her whole arm rested against him. He was warm. His skin was so soft against the palm of her hand.
“Admit it,” she said.
“Nore.”
“It’s the girl you mentioned, isn’t it?”
“You don’t even understand what you’re saying.” He grabbed her wrist tightly and started to pull her hand off him.
She resisted his grip. “Make me understand.”
“I can’t.” He let go of her and looked away, but she closed the remaining distance between them, zipping their bodies together, and placed her other hand on his chest. His arms dangled at his sides as if terrified to touch her.
“Try.”
“I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”
She let her hands explore his frame, following his strong shoulders, the curve of his arms, the sharp angle of his collarbone, the soft parts of his chest, where she used to lay her head. Her eyes stung with tears.
