His attention became too much. Too close to forcing her to face the emotions she worked each day to repress. Guilt, above them all. Guilt that she could possibly crave his protection when she deserved nothing close to it.
She swallowed hard as his eyes tracked the movement. Twice now he’d done that. His pupils dilated slightly.
And he let her go. She yielded a small step back, desperate for space she should have demanded as soon as he grabbed her.
“Practice with the crystal today,” he said.
“And if I accidentally jump again?” she asked, her mind flashing to Emerie’s bloodied chest and wondering if her previous visions of Mal and Shadow were accidental jumps as well. But reason fought that argument, for there had been no one else there.
“Then practice that too,” he said. He smiled softly. “I’ll make Eryx volunteer to help you.”
Maeve grimaced.
Reeve chuckled. “That’ll be the same face he’ll make.”
She bit back the urge to ask him why he was abandoning training her himself, but as a rough sigh slipped from him, she didn’t need to. And she realized she, too, wanted space from the man before her, who was breaking past barriers that only one other had managed before.
“I noticed Shadow Slayer is not among these weapons you display so proudly,” she said, hoping he understood the question.
Reeve contemplated her words a moment, his eyes on the wall of weapons fit for a king. But he wasn’t a king. He had refusedthat title hundreds of years ago, when, according to her father, he had been forced to Inherit his father’s power. To take.
To drain his life force.
What a cruel world.
“No,” said Reeve after a moment, “that sword isn’t worthy to hang alongside these.”
“And yet, that is the sword you keep at your side,” said Maeve.
Reeve smiled, but it hardly touched his eyes. “I haven’t been worthy to wield a blade on these walls in centuries.”
Maeve’s eyes grew large at the raw honesty in his voice, but Reeve’s playful smile appeared on his face before she could push him any further.
“Best of luck with Eryx. It’s more a punishment for him than you,” he said with a grin as he turned to leave the armory. “I hope you understand.”
Maeve laughed softly. “A punishment for him?”
Reeve nodded. “I told him not to talk to you if I wasn’t present.”
He turned the corner of the doors, and Maeve’s mouth fell open as she rushed after him. But on the other side of the armory doors, the dragon-shifting High Lord was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 30
Reeve and Eryx were the last to enter the intimate dining area, where breakfast was already prepared and spread. Eryx stalked behind Reeve, his long blonde hair unstyled, and his face held a cold expression that didn’t match Reeve’s. Mely and Drystan were already seated with Maeve, having offered her polite “good mornings.”
Eryx offered no such pleasantry. She was acutely aware that his body turned from hers purposely at the breakfast table.
Reeve’s head tilted to the side as he took his seat. “Where’s your siphon?”
The smooth crystal marble rolled beneath her fingers, where it sat hidden in her lap.
Reeve tapped a single tattooed finger on the breakfast table twice. “Out,” he said, a gentle command that she obeyed without question.
Her hand moved to the tabletop, rolling the lifeless crystal ball beneath her fingers across the smooth wood.
“What’s this about, Reeve?” asked Mely as she poured herself a glass of juice with twitchy fingers.
Maeve resisted the instinctive urge to ask her if she was alright, because it seemed the girl’s nauseated and sickly demeanor was currently her natural state.
