“Why did you help us escape?” I ask. “Why did you let us hide in your safe house, Riven? And why did you destroy your life to do it?”
He swallows. Shifts his weight to hisright foot.
I don’t expect an answer. If he lies, I’ll know it, and there’s no point lying if you know you won’t get away with it. At best, it’s wasted breath. At worst, it’s the dissolution of an alliance. With one as fragile as ours, it wouldn’t take much.
“The life that I destroyed?” He pauses and crosses his ankles.
I nod to show him I’m listening, even though it’s already painfully obvious. I’m leaning forward with my body angled toward his, desperate to hear what he says next.
“I hated it.”
Blinking, I wait for him to go on. Expound, elaborate, anythingreally.
He doesn’t.
I try to read his face, but it’s set in an impenetrable mask—a sign of his veydran training. He’s good at it, I’ll give him that. Without my magic, I wouldn’t be able to tell if he was lying or telling the truth.
“You wanted a change?” My fingers twitch. I’m not even sure what I’m asking. A change from living in the monster realm or being an assassin for hire, maybe? Am I witnessing the change, or am I the cause of it? Shit, that sounds egotistical, but I don’t have the guts or the hubris to clarify.
Riven nods once, his jaw clenched.
Okay. That’s it. He answered me. I should leave him alone.
I turn to walk away, then freeze. “Pinning your neck...” I clear my throat. “I’m not exactly sorry, but I don’t want to hurt you, Riven. I-I don’t enjoy it, and I don’t ever want to be the type of person who does.”
I flinch as I hear my own words out loud. They’re too revealing, and he already knows too much. I spin to face him again. “What I mean by that is I don’t hate you anymore. And I don’t want to see you hurt. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t be happy about it.”
Shit, I’m making it worse,andI sound stupid.
Why did I have to get turned on while we sparred?
Riven blinks and pushes off the wall. He steps toward me slowly, stopping only when there’s barely enough space between us for light to pass.
I shift my weight, and a floorboard creaks. I should back up. I don’t.
“I don’t want to see you hurt either, darling.” His voice is husky. Almost mesmerizing, and I’m hanging on his every word. “So much so that I find myself invested in making sure it doesn’t happen again.”
He catches my hand in his, and I curse myself for the sharp intake of air I fail to hide. We were grappling a few minutes ago. I had my hands all over him and felt his all over me. Why can’t I handle this?Get a fucking grip, Celine.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’m as alarmed by this development as you are.” He kisses my knuckles, then disappears into his room before I can consider how to respond.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs.
I don’t have space for this in my head; it will have to stay in this hallway for now.
What I need to do is figure out how to convince Alistair to ask his connections about celestial gateways without admitting that I plan to go get Malach without them. Since my rant in the street after the portal spat us out, no one has questioned me. I don’t know if that’s because they’re scared of my answer or if they think I was letting my grief do the talking.
It doesn’t matter either way. I won’t change my mind; I just have to be smart about it.
EIGHT
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #27:
Mind your own business before minding anyone else’s.
LUCA
Celine is plotting, and it’s painfully obvious.
