He opens his mouth. Closes it. Whatever he was going to say gets swallowed, replaced by something safer. "It's getting late. We should probably head back."
Disappointment cuts through me, sharp and immediate. Which is stupid—I don't even know what I wanted him to say. Don't know what I'm feeling beyond the certainty that something between us is shifting, growing, becoming more than I know how to handle.
"Yeah," I agree, standing before I do something catastrophically stupid like close the distance between us. "Probably should."
We walk back together in silence, that tension stretching between us like wire pulled taut. His hand brushes mine once—accidental contact that sends electricity up my arm—and I nearly jump out of my skin.
He notices. Of course he notices. Pulls back immediately, that careful distance reasserting itself even though I can see the effort it costs him.
At the women's quarters, he stops. "Sleep well, Serah."
"You too."
I watch him walk away, his massive frame disappearing into the settlement darkness. Then I slip inside, lean against the closed door, and try to understand what the fuck is happening to me.
Because I'm starting to trust him. Starting to want him. Starting to feel things I swore I'd never let myself feel again.
And I have absolutely no idea what to do about any of it.
9
RAKK
"—and then Kaelen, brilliant strategist that he is, decides the best way to get the capraoutof the armory is to chase itwith a sword?—"
Serah's laugh cuts me off, her head tipping back with genuine amusement, and my heart does something stupid and painful in my chest. The sound is rough, unused, like she's rediscovering how after years of forgetting. Her throat moves with it, firelight from the distant settlement catching on the delicate line of her jaw, the curve of her smile.
Gods, she's beautiful when she laughs. Beautiful in ways that make my magic surge toward her, desperate to understand the feeling behind that expression, to taste the joy I helped create.
I force the pull back, locking it down with practiced control that's becoming harder to maintain every night we do this.
"A sword," she repeats, wiping at her eyes. "For a capra."
"A very aggressive capra," I defend. "It had already headbutted three warriors and was attempting to eat someone's boot."
"And Kaelen thought a weapon was the appropriate response to livestock."
"Kaelen thought intimidation would work. It didn't. The capra won." I grin at the memory. "Completely destroyed his dignity. He had to explain to Dad why there were sword marks all over the armory floor and a terrified capra loose in the mess hall."
She's still smiling, this soft, unguarded expression that makes her look younger. Makes her look like someone who hasn't survived six years of hell. I want to memorize this moment, burn it into my brain so I never forget what she looks like happy.
Want to keep making her laugh like this for the rest of my life.
The thought should terrify me. Instead it just settles somewhere deep, certain and immovable.
"You two are disasters," she says.
"We'reentertainingdisasters." I lean back against the boulder, letting my shoulder brush hers. She doesn't pull away. Hasn't been pulling away as much lately, letting contact happen naturally instead of treating every touch like a threat. "Besides, someone has to provide comic relief around here. Dad takes everything too seriously."
"He's the Chieftain. Serious is probably required."
"Serious is exhausting." I watch her profile, the way shadows play across her features. "Life's too short to be grim all the time."
She turns to look at me, amber-hazel eyes catching moonlight. There's something in her expression I can't quite read. Something that makes my magic strain against its restraints, wanting to understand what she's feeling, what she's thinking when she looks at me like that.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing. Just—" I pause, searching for words that won't send her running. "You should laugh more. It's nice."
