Minato swung it open to a guest suite warmed by firelight.Bastion scanned the interior, vaguely registering the desk under the window, the heavy drapes and oversized rug, and the four-poster bed laden with plush blankets and furs.
He turned back to the Yvri.Minato stared at Bastion’s chest, his brow pinched in an almost imperceptible wrinkle, as if Bastion were an exotic specimen he’d never seen before.He lifted his gaze and met Bastion’s with a mixture of contempt and curiosity, similar to a cat who’s been disturbed from sleep.
“What–” Bastion began.
Minato cut him off.“Ulla has a high regard for you.”
Bastion swallowed his question, taken aback.It surprised him that Minato would pass on a compliment when his entire demeanor suggested he would rather give Bastion a lashing.
“I feel the same about her,” he replied.
The Yvri nodded, as if he expected nothing less.
“You’ve been through quite a lot together,” Minato said.“I would hope… your regard extends to what’s best for her–not just yourself.”
Then, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Bastion mystified.
Chapter 12
Bastion fell into a deep, deep sleep, willing himself to sink to a place he rarely let himself go.He was safe enough that he could allow it–and he was so exhausted that not even Minato’s parting words could keep him up.
Somehow, a sound broke through, bringing him to the surface abruptly.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
Its terse quality drew him slowly out of bed.
Thump!Thump Thump!
Bastion padded through his darkened room.Who could be disturbing him at such a late hour?
Thump!Thump!Th–
He opened the door and nearly got a fist in the face, coming fully awake as he dodged it.
Ulla stood there in a puddle of sunlight, dressed in a gown of azure satin.It looked like one Nesrin had picked all the trim off of, leaving only clean lines and fitted sleeves.Her hair had been washed, and the glossy sheen reminded him of fresh spilled ink.Offset by the ornamentation of shells and pearls dotting its length, she looked like a faerie tale illustration.
Her attention ran the length of his body, first with the objectiveness of a healer, then with shock.
Belatedly, he remembered that he’d thrown all of his dirty clothing on the floor and fallen into bed wearing only his linen breeches.Barefoot and bare-chested, with his hair tousled, he must have been a sight.
Bastion couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a tinge of pink color her cheeks–the cut now healed–as her gaze lingered over the plane of his torso.Then, her eyes snapped to his.She thrust a pile of folded clothes into his arms, pushed past him, and began signing furiously.Ulla gestured at his chest, followed by a series of motions that he couldn’t interpret.She swept her arm around the room in a wide arc, her face dark and serious.
When her hands fell to her sides, leaving only a stillness underscored by his erratic heart, Bastion realized he was staring.
Ulla rolled her eyes, went to the window, and ripped the curtains open in a flood of late morning sunshine.Then, she went to the fireplace and seized the poker.
While she stoked the coals and added logs to the fire, Bastion threw the new clothes on the rumpled bed and cast around for his bag.He found it kicked under a chair and rummaged through it until he came up with the book and a shard of charcoal.
Flames blazed to life, filling the room with warmth and the sharp scent of smoke.As Ulla turned, he offered the book and charcoal to her.
She snatched them out of his hand and turned to the last pages, glaring at him.It only took her a moment to scribble something before she flipped it around with a look that brooked no arguments.
What aren’t you telling me?
Bastion paled.He began to stutter, his eyes scanning the floor.
Ulla stepped closer and stabbed the book with her finger, her expression even more severe.
