Page 60 of Into Ember

“What… what is that look for?”

I come closer. Let the smirk turn into the real thing.

“For a woman who does jumping jacks in her living room and talks to her houseplant,” I say, “you’re handling all of this really well.”

Something rustles in her hair. Gerald’s head appears, takes a look around and I swear he can feel the energy has shifted. He maneuvers out of her hair, makes himself small — smaller than I’ve seen him go — and pours himself down her shoulder, across the floor, and under the door. Gone.

Elara watches the gap under the door. “He’s been my chaperone for years and he picks now to develop discretion.”

We both laugh, a little, and she forgets to be mad for a moment and I’ll take it. I stop laughing, because she’s standing in candlelight with petals behind her, and a man can’t do both at once.

“You’re stunning, Ella.”

“Don’t call me—”

“My dragon decided the first time I met you that that was what he wanted to call you.”

She stops. Blinks. Her mouth opens and closes on three different starts, and I watch her try to process it and fail.

The first time I met you. It’s right there. She could pull the whole thing out of me with one question, and I’d let her. Part of me hopes she asks. I keep my mouth shut and let her decide.

She doesn’t ask. She just looks at me.

Relief and disappointment, both at once. Noted.

“Come on,” I say. “Before the water gets cold.”

She looks at the tub. Back at me. I don’t move toward the door.

“Let me help you.”

“What? Erik—”

“Please?”

The word does more than it should. I don’t use it often. She knows I don’t.

She holds still and nods.

I start with the jacket. Slowly. There’s no rush. I make sure there’s no rush. The jacket off her shoulders, folded over the rail. It means something to her, I know it does. After everything she’s been through in the last few days, she deserves this done right.

Then I go down on one knee.

“Erik—”

My hand goes around her lower leg. Warm through the fabric. I lift, a small pressure, and she gets the idea and picks up her foot, and her hand comes down on my shoulder for balance and stays there, gripping, and I look up at her from the floor and let her see the smirk.

“Don’t get used to this,” she says.

“I should tell you the same thing.” I pull the boot free and set it aside. “But I wouldn’t mind you getting used to it.” Second boot. Her fingers flex on my shoulder. “My queen.”

I stop there. One knee, her foot in my hand, and I watch her.

She goes red all at once. “Oh my God. Not you too.”

“Everyone else got to laugh about it.”

“You’re supposed to be the good one.”