I stopped with my hand on the closet door, fingers flexing tightly around the handle. Then I held my breath, turned, and forced my gaze up, holding his as firmly as I dared. The moment our eyes locked, my Flame glowed, warmth rapidly unspooling through my chest. I fought to reel it in again, the tightness in my lungs reinforcing my leash on the fighting, flickering fire.
“Is that supposed to convince me?” He laughed, though it didn’t light the usual glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You look as though you’ve run five laps around the market.”
I crossed my arms, another reinforcement around the cage of my chest. “What do you want from me, exactly? If there’s something you need to say –”
“I’ve said it. I think you’re afraid of me.”
“Why would I be afraid of you?”
He shrugged. “I’m a Captain and a Kingsman. Most people are at least alittlebit afraid of me.”
“Well, I’m not most people.”
My lungs were in danger of collapsing and the words came out a little hoarse. I made myself hold his eye for another excruciating moment – then grabbed for the door, only allowing a full breath when I finally stumbled into the cool darkness of the closet. The shadows engulfed me, a balm to the fiery battle in my chest. It was a relief for all of a heartbeat; until I realised he had followed me,again. But when he spoke, his usual lilt was flat and defeated.
“Rosie, look, I don’t want to force the point.” He sighed, and I felt him step further into the room. “I just wanted you to know–”
The light shifted across the shelves, narrowing into a slim beam, and I turned with my heart in my throat.
“No, don’t close the–”
The door clicked shut, plunging us into full darkness.
“The door,” I whined. “The fuckingdoor.”
“What about the fucking door?”
In the dark, he was soft and amused, his lilt returning even smoother than usual. It did nothing to soothe my panic.
“The lock is broken. It only opens from the outside.”
Replacing it had been on my mental list of tasks but the priorities were ever-shifting, and with it being Yule I’d opted to spend the money on Sorcha’s gloves. I lunged for the handle and yanked at it, despite knowing full well that it wasn’t going to budge. I pulled and pulled, and pulled again for good measure, grinding a frustrated shriek through my teeth.
“Ah.”
I huffed. “Ah, he says.”
An unexpected warmth at my wrist had me leaping back, snatching my hand away – but the Captain just rattled at the door handle. Gods, I was so on edge already. There could not be a worse time for me to be trapped in a cupboard with a temperamental Flame and a highly observant Kingsman.
The rattling continued, woven with a chorus of low grunts as he tried to force the rusty old lock. It did not give.
“Move over.”
I felt my way along the walls to the door again, stepping on something solid, which was met with a pained hiss and the sound of the Captain stumbling back.
“Careful.”
I ignored him and pounded my fist on the door.
“Sorcha?”
Nothing. I pounded again, voice rising with an edge of panic.
“Sorcha!”
I yelled myself hoarse for Sorcha, foranyone, and no one came. My cousin’s room was in the attic, and the Kingmen were likely passed out in a festive stupor. I slumped back against theshelves of cleaning supplies on one wall and caught my breath. The one silver lining was that my efforts seemed to have drained reserves from my Flame. It now lay curled around my heart, comforted by the exerted rhythm of my pulse.
With my magic safely dormant, I indulged myself in a simmering glare through the dark.
