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But, as with everything to do with Gabriel, she’d lost that careful control. Some of it was his fault, as he clearly had zero practice with using transferred magic. But the rest was hers. In the impulse of the moment, she’d given him everything of herself, denying him nothing. Exactly as she’d feared, only worse—because he didn’t even want her.
A bitter laugh escaped her, and Gabriel entered just then. “Something funny?” he asked.
She raised a brow. “No knock this time?”
He smiled without humor. “I figured it was pointless.”
True. She couldn’t tell him no, and he was realizing the truth of that. “How is Vale?”
His grim expression softened. “He’ll be fine. I think they hurt him mostly to lure us out. But if you’re done with the soap and water, I should clean his wound.”
She handed him the soap and the flask. “You don’t need this, you know,” she pointed out, waggling the flask. When he frowned in puzzlement, she sighed. “You could condense water out of the rain. You can pull seawater to you and make it fresh. You’re thinking like a commoner without magic instead of like a wizard.”
He gazed back at her, thoughts opaque. “I spent a lot more of my life as a commoner without magic than I have as a wizard.”
“Well, little pauper boy, you’re a prince now, so you’d better figure out how to run your kingdom or it will run you.”
Cocking his head, he gave her a wry nod of acknowledgment. “A fair point, princess.” The door banged shut behind him as he left again, and Nic forced herself to her feet. The blanket wasn’t nearly enough to warm her up with her shoulders and legs bare.
Pushing a couple of benches together in one corner, she made a kind of low table of them, laying out their combined supplies so she could sort them more efficiently. She should’ve done this when they arrived, instead of indulging in congenial conversation with Gabriel. Letting him scratch her back. Talking about her parents.Confidingin him.
Shaking her head at herself, she made a pile of Gabriel’s clothes—except for that guilt-inducing wedding suit, which she packed away again—and a much smaller pile of her assorted spare pieces. No extra shirt of her own had magically appeared, so begging Gabriel to clothe her lay in her future.Oh joy.
In refolding a spare set of his pants, she felt something hard and square in the pocket. Withdrawing it, she didn’t need brighter light to recognize the miniature from her Betrothal Trials packet. Countless reproductions had been made of the portrait, so it came as no surprise to see it. Why had Gabriel carried it with him, however? He knew what she looked like.
Tucking the miniature back and tying the blanket firmly around her, she coaxed the fire elemental out of its lantern. It danced on her palm happily enough. If she were a wizard, she could task it to heat the cabin. Letting it burn campfire logs was simple and within its normal habits. Heating a space without burning anything was more complex—and not something a fire elemental would enjoy naturally. All she could do was ask for more heat than light, and hope it wanted to please her. Returning the elemental to its home, she set the lantern on a bench in the center of the cabin. It wasn’t bright, so maybe it would indulge her request.
Gabriel returned, gaze roving over her neat piles. “Looking for something?”
“I was hoping my clothes might’ve magically reproduced while I wasn’t looking,” she replied.
He picked up the copper snake bracelet from where she’d cast it aside, turning it in his long fingers, making her feel oddly exposed. “I thought you never took this off. You’ve been wearing it since I found you.”
She plucked it from his hands and shoved it in her bag. “It doesn’t work anymore. Careful of the lantern—I asked it to burn hot to warm this place up.”
He held out his hands to it. “Feels like you succeeded. Are you cold?”
“Aren’t you?”
“A little chilled,” he admitted. “Help yourself to any of my clothes, though they’ll be big on you.”
Grateful he hadn’t made her ask, she smiled. “I think I’ll have to. Tell me which you care about the least and I’ll adapt them.”
He gave her an odd look. “No, you pick what works best for you. Any of it is fine by me.”
She wanted to tell him it was too freaking late to pretend to kindness. Except it wasn’t pretense—hewastrying to be kind to her. She just didn’t understand why he was running hot and cold like this. “Fine.” She moved to sort through the stack of shirts.
“Let’s see about your arm before you dress,” he suggested, holding out a hand.
Looking him up and down, she shook her head. “Not until you bathe. You’ll just get hunter goo in my wounds again. We’d better check your stitches, too.”
“Good point.” He pulled the shirt over his head, halting momentarily with a hiss, then continuing on with determined movements. His muscles flexed and rippled, smooth skin gleaming golden from the low lantern light, his silver chest hair shining in contrast. She took the shirt from him—salvageable, as he’d managed to avoid being spattered in hunter remains as she had.
“Might as well take the rest off, too. Those pants need to dry.” She gave him a look when he hesitated. “I’ve seen it all before, too,” she reminded him, and gathered up her supplies while he sat to pry off his boots. “Come stand over this stain. Might as well use the spilled water to work some of the stink out. Mind the glass, though—there might be some shards still.”
He came over, keeping his back to her. She handed him the flask and soap to clean his hands, and she began unwinding Inytta’s expertly wrapped bandages—now stained with seeping fresh blood. He had a nice back, too, so being presented with it didn’t help much to thwart her interest, if that was his intention. Broad shoulders, lovely muscles, his buttocks firm and taut, those strong thighs silvered with hair below.
“How did the hunter immobilize you?” she asked to take her mind off admiring his physique.
