It was mesmerizing.
Shewas mesmerizing.
“What does this voice say?” she mumbled as she wrote a line at the very bottom of the page.
“Nothing particular. It’s more of a feeling than anything. Like it calls to me. Makes me feel invincible, drunk off the power and control.” I felt a weight lift suddenly from my chest at the admission. I’d never told anyone about this before, not even Alois, and it felt right to share it with her.
I admitted as much to her, and she stopped writing abruptly.
“No one else knows?” Her hazel eyes bored into mine with such an intensity that it simultaneously pulled me toward her and pushed me away. Something otherworldly seemed to swim in their depths, and I ached to know all her thoughts, all her secrets.
“No one. Not even Alois,” I confirmed, my gaze never straying from hers.
“Good,” she bit out, and my eyebrows hitched in shock. “Let’s keep it that way.”
I cocked my head slightly, suddenly curious.
“You don’t trust him,” I goaded.
She shook her head, the wayward curls bouncing around her beautiful brown face.
“No,” she admitted with conviction. “I don’t. I know he’s your friend, Rohak, but there’s somethingoffabout him.Desperatelyoff. And I can’t put my finger on it.” Faylinn’s fingers tapped absently on her journal, and I had the distinct impression thatshe’d filed more than a few thoughts and observations about Alois in its depths.
“I agree with you,” I said softly, propping my head against my fist as I leaned against the back of the couch. Blood still flowed from my nose, but it was much more sluggish than earlier. Why my symptoms seemed to wax and wane, only now progressing into something more significant, was clearly a mystery to both of us. One I was hoping we could solve together.
“You do?” she asked incredulously, her whole body turning to face mine.
I nodded once.
“And not just because he sent you to Hestin for six months with no communication?” Faylinn cut straight to one of my biggest insecurities and complaints, but I liked that about her. She never bullshit, never embellished. She was as straightforward as they came—it called to the same part of me.
“No, not just because of that. Though it didn’t help matters,” I admitted ruefully. Faylinn nodded her head before trying to conceal a large yawn behind her hand.
“I’m sorry, the day just caught up to me,” she admitted, exhaustion lacing her tone. “Almost dying and unexpected apologies will do that to you.”
She laughed ruefully as I shot her a small smirk.
Neither of us said anything for a minute, and Faylinn grew uncomfortable in the silence.
“Well, I’ll be going now. Thank you for . . . the conversation,” she babbled, clearly nervous. I loved that little tell of hers.
“I’d like to take you to the Academy library,” I told her softly, which quickly had her mouth snapping closed.
“You would? Oh, thank the gods. I cannot stand going near that place. Every time I get within a few feet, I instantly turn and run the opposite direction.” The relief was palpable in her voice,but her fingers scratched mindlessly at the scars that littered her forearms.
Not for the first time, I wondered what trauma she endured to sustain those types of injuries.
“We’ll go this week,” I declared.
“Wow, so soon?” she asked, her movements stilling. I nodded my head.
“Didn’t you say there was research you needed to conduct?” She nodded again. “I have an office in the Academy.”
Faylinn nodded as she pushed to her feet, tucking the journal and pencil into her waistband as she rose. She padded on silent feet to the door, and I watched her go from my perch on the couch.
“Rohak,” she called as she reached the door, hand poised to pull the handle. “You know you’re going to have to Bond, right?” Her tone was delicate, cajoling. It was clear she didn’t want to have the conversation, but the academic and healer in her demanded it.
I nodded curtly once.
