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“She seemed so sincere, didn’t she?” Draven said, glancing at the door.
“Who? Vespera?” I stared at him. “You don’t think...”
He made a face. “Who knows.”
“I thought you trusted Vespera. Lyrastra helped her...”
“Oh, so you trust her because of Lyrastra? Fascinating.” Draven smirked.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” I said hotly. “But I thought you trusted her, yes.”
“The only ones I trust are Selwyn and Lyrastra,” Draven said thoughtfully. “Vespera is a wild card.”
“You don’t think she’ll attack Lyrastra, too?”
“Do you think Lyrastra deserves her loyalty?” Draven asked. “Interesting.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m sure Lyrastra can take care of herself.”
“I’m sure you’re right. As can I.” He leaned forward and surprised me by kissing the center of my forehead gently. “Don’t worry, Morgan.”
“Right. I’ll magically stop worrying that you might die tomorrow now that I’ve gravely wounded you,” I muttered, trying not to think about how wonderful his lips had felt pressed to my skin, tender and soft.
Each night we fell into bed together, tired and excited. Each night was better than the one before.
I had never been so happy.
I had never been so afraid.
Tomorrow it might all end.
“Gravely wounded?” Draven snorted. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. It’s a scratch.”
“Don’t make me stab you in your sleep tonight.”
“We both know you’re going to be far too tired for that after I’m through with you,” Draven said wickedly, waggling his dark brows in a way that made me want to kiss him on the lips and giggle at the same time.
I chose neither, striding towards the door and pushing it open instead. “Practice is over. You need a healer.”
“I need you in my bed,” Draven muttered from behind me. “Preferably naked and on top of me.”
I pretended I hadn’t heard him.
