He’s hugging me.
He’s gone by the time I wake, leaving no sign he was here aside from the hearty musk of his lingering scent infused with my pillow slip. Stuffing my nose in the silk, I draw a deep breath, filling my lungs and easing the painful eddy in my temples.
A memory of me tipping an empty bottle to my lips hits me like a plank, and a nervous flutter bursts in my belly ...
I’m all out of caspun.
Crap.
I’ve been dependent on the arcane bulb for so long. If I knew it was going to take forever to source more, perhaps I’d have plucked up the courage and come clean weeks ago. The repercussion of Rhordyn discovering I’ve been exceeding the recommended dose wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it’d be.
He was angry, yes ... but he stillhuggedme, then stayed until I fell asleep.
Closing my eyes, I remember his arm—big and strong like a shield. Remember the feel of his presence at my back, his weight dipping the mattress.
It was impossible not to roll into the small cleft between us. Bridge the space.
A shiver rakes through me.
I draw another calming breath, pulling my face from the pillow before I exhale, not wanting to muddy the slip with my own scent. Then frown when I realize it’slaundryday.
Tanith will be up in a couple of hours to strip my bed ...
She can’t have it.
Dragging the slip free, I bounce my gaze around the room, seeking the perfect hiding spot.
Easier said than done.
Tanith is thorough, never leaving a single dust particle unaccounted for, and I don’t doubt she’ll find this treasure no matter where I hide it. Except maybeoneplace ...
Rhordyn knows about my hidden compartment, but he’s the only one. And it’s not like he has any more reasons to dig around in there.
I peel the rug, shift the stone, stuff the compartment full ofhim, then slide the lid back into place. Something inside me calms to a light simmer, and I sigh, posture buckling.
After changing into my training gear, I run a brush through my calamity of hair and work it into a loose braid. Bag slung over my shoulder, I take on Stony Stem with delicate footfalls, trying to glide down each step so as to nurture my tender brain. By the time I step into the dining room, white dots are clouding my vision.
I’m half tempted to turn around and head straight back to bed.
“If you wanted to train, you’re two hours late,” is my morning welcome from a frosty Baze lounged in his regular spot, sipping from a steaming cup of tea.
“I slept in.”
He looks up from the scroll spread beside his breakfast plate, weighted by a glass of juice and a large black stone I’d love to paint. He draws another mouthful, eyes meeting me over the rim. “And you still look tired.”
“You’re the one who tipped him off, aren’t you? Told Rhordyn about the Exothryl?”
It’s the only plausible explanation. Last night aside, Rhordyn never sees me, especially not in the morning when I’m jacked. If we bump into each other in a hall, nine times out of ten the chance encounter swiftly dissolves.
A guilty glint sparkles in Baze’s eyes, that right dimple appearing. He sets his cup on the saucer with a delicate clink that belies who he is. How he looks.
There’s nothing delicate about Baze aside from the way he tapers down like a finely crafted wooden weapon. When used correctly, and in the right situation, he’slethal.
“I take that as a yes. How’d you work it out?”
Baze shrugs, sets his elbows on the table, and fits his hands together. “How do you think, Orlaith?”
The question iscrooned—bait for my fraying patience.
