She leaned in, and he leaned back, looking anywhere but at the dipping collar of her gown.She pressed her other hand to his chest, right over his heart.
It skipped a beat, making Bastion flush.He stole a glance at her.But her eyes were closed–not looking, but feeling.He realized he was holding his breath and let it out, unable to control his pulse ricocheting beneath her touch.She took a deep breath, and he matched her, their chests rising and falling in unison.
Coolness spread through his ribcage, like drinking ice water on a hot day.Another inhale, and it faded.Wonder filled her eyes as they opened and gazed down at him.Slowly, she took his face in her hands, her thumbs softly stroking his cheeks.
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.He wanted to stay there and drown in the starry white freckles that framed her eyes.He bathed in that feeling, letting it wash away his fears, like sand beneath a wave.More than anything, he wanted to pull her closer, take her in his arms, and sigh into her neck.Instead, he exhaled long and slow, and took a handful of her skirts in each hand.
For just a moment, the vise around his heart eased up.
Ulla lifted a hand to his forehead.
He flinched.
She stilled, palm lightly pressed to his skin, his hair fallen over her fingers.Bastion opened his eyes and met her gaze, terrified she would ask, realize,seewhat he didn’t want her to see.Doubt flickered in her expression, but something overshadowed it, assuaging the lurking fear.
Respect.
Then, her hands were gone.The absence of her touch made him release her skirts.She retrieved the book from the mantle, spread the pages, and pointed to her original question.
What aren’t you telling me?
The chill along his spine turned to ice in his chest.He clenched his fists and pressed them into his thighs.Ulla took up the charcoal slowly, suspiciously.
Bastion looked at the book, dreading questions he wasn’t ready to answer about secrets he wasn’t ready to share.Instead, relief and confusion wound through his veins.
Does your remarkable health have something to do with what you said on the ship?
“What I said on the ship?”
You told Buck that your death awaits you in another time and place.
He stared at her.“How…?Weren’t you pretending to be drugged?”
I heard your voice in my head!
“What?”He expelled the word, more than said it, gaping at her like a fool.She held his gaze, her eyes searching.He shook his head.“It had to be the situation.The heightened emotions and the threat to you…”
Overwrought, Bastion rose, running his hands through his hair.He paced the same path Ulla had earlier as he sucked in shaky, anxious breaths.
They thought you might be god-touched.Are you?It would explain why you aren’t dying and how I heard you.
Bastion scowled at the page.He met her eyes, his mouth a firm line.
“No,” Bastion said.He fought to keep the vitriol out of his voice.“Kinra, Visara, Nammu, Death… whatever forgotten goddess Bart invoked.They may as well not exist for all the good they’ve done me.People use them to justify their actions or things they can’t explain.I believed I would meet a god on the island, because I was told that's what would happen.Looking back, I can’t say that I’ve ever seen the hand of the divine in anything.”
Ulla didn’t move.She merely watched him, as if she knew he had more to say.
“I met no god on that island,” Bastion insisted.“Only animp.”
He sneered the word, continuing to pace with all the vehemence of a caged animal.He didn’t realize what he’d said until he came face-to-face with her next question.
An imp?
He lifted his eyes from the book, muscles tense.
Ulla must have seen his trepidation, because she wrote the next line more slowly.
Tell me about your Trial.
