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“You must get along great, then.”
He smirked. “Hiding the kindling might have been my idea.”
The laughter turned to loud whistling—a jaunty tune that split through the night. It seemed to be coming closer.
“Come on,” said Gild, tugging her back toward the tower. “If it sees you, I can’t trust it not to tell Erlkönig.”
They were halfway down the tower steps when Gild seemed to realize that he was still holding Serilda’s hand. He immediately let go, dragging his fingers along the mortar lines in the wall instead.
She frowned.
“Gild?”
He did not look back at her, but made a small questioning grunt.
She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but … I can’t help but notice that you’re … that you don’t want to be touched tonight. And that’s … well, that’s your choice, of course. It’s just that, before, you always seemed—”
He paused so fast that Serilda nearly crashed into him.
“What do you mean, Idon’t want to be touched?” he said, spinning to face her with a tremulous laugh.
She blinked. “Well, that’s certainly how it seems. You keep pulling away from me. You haven’t wanted to be close to me all night.”
“Because I can’t—!” He stopped himself, inhaling sharply. He grimaced, as if biting back his reaction. “I’m sorry. I owe you an apology. I know I do,” he said, the words like a skittish rabbit darting between them. “But I don’t know how to say it.”
“An apology?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. He looked a little bit like a petulant child whoreallydidn’t want to say he had done wrong, but would under threat of no dessert.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you before,” he said. “It wasn’t … gentlemanly. And it won’t happen again.”
Her breath hitched. “Gentlemanly?” she asked, her brain catching on one of the few words that didn’t sting.
He opened his eyes, clearly irritated. “Despite what you might think, I’m not entirely without honor.” But then he ducked his head away, his expression swinging almost instantly from annoyed to apologetic. “I regretted it the moment I left you. I am sorry.”
Regretted it.
These words alone were enough to curdle every last fantasy Serilda had entertained these past weeks. But rather than let them sadden her, she took hold of the second emotion that cropped up in their wake. Anger.
She crossed her arms and walked down a few more steps so they were at eye level. “Why did you then? I wasn’t encouraging you.”
“No, I know. That’s exactly it.” His hands flailed, though his anger seemed to be matching hers stride for stride.
Which was ridiculous. What did he have to be angry about?
“I don’t expect you to understand. And … I won’t try to make excuses. I’m sorry. That’s all there is to say.”
“I disagree. I think I’m owed some explanation. It was my first kiss, I’ll have you know.”
He groaned, running a hand down his face. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Oh, look at me, Gild. You can’t possibly think I have a bevy of suitors waiting for their chance to sweep me off my feet. I’d gotten rather used to the idea of spinsterhood.”
His face contorted into something almost pained. He opened his mouth, but soon shut it again. Collapsing one shoulder against the wall, he let out a heavy sigh. “It was mine, too.”
It was a quiet confession, one Serilda wasn’t sure that she’d heard correctly. “What?”
“No—I shouldn’t say that. I don’t know if it’s true. But … if I ever did kiss anyone, I have no memory of it, so as far as I’m concerned, it was my first. And until I met you, I was sure I would never …” He glanced at her, then quickly tore his gaze away. “I cannot … to have met you … I thought it was impossible. I thought …”
