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Rather than make him repeat his question, I just say, “Andy still loves me. But he’s the heir to the throne now, and I put his betrothed—well, his wife now—in danger when I didn’t turn myself in. I knew I was infected with a dangerous magic, a magic that had tried to kill Ellie, but I was too afraid of Andy finding out how I felt about him to come forward. Ellie was seriously injured; she could have ended up dead. And Andy loves her; he sort of had to choose her over me…” I bite my lip, because that’s not quite right. “In a way, I think he was still trying to help me. It’s not like he gave up on me. He was planning to go to the Queen of Naenden to figure out more about sentient magic, about what had possessed me.”
Nox just watches me, a strange glow welling in his pale eyes. “The way you felt about him,” he says before taking a long, hearty drink from his canister, like he’s bracing himself for this part of the conversation.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You said the way you felt about him. Past tense.”
I swallow. “You’re out of questions.”
“It wasn’t a question. Just an observation.”
My throat suddenly goes tight, the strings of my heart go taut. It’s true; I haven’t lingered on thoughts of Evander lately. I’m not sure why I’m so embarrassed by it. It’s a good thing that I’m not pining over a married male, but still…my neck heats, and Nox’s gaze dips to where I’m certain my skin has gone blotchy.
When I flick the paper ball at his face this time, he’s too lost in thought to catch it in time, and it smacks him in the nose.
I let out a giggle as he flinches. He recovers quickly enough and chucks the ball back at me. It smacks me in the forehead before bouncing onto the table.
We make the briefest of eye contact, and then it’s like a silent trumpet has sounded, and we’re both scrambling to grab the ball and claim our turn. Normally I wouldn’t be a match for Nox and his eerie speed, but the paper landed directly in front of me and I get a hand on it at the same time he does.
“Aha!” I shout with triumph, ripping the paper away from him and hopping backwards. He’s spread across the table now after lunging for the prize, and the mischief in his eyes tells me only one thing: run.
I make a break for it, hoping I can get behind him before he launches himself at me, but all it takes is a blink and he’s directly in front of me, his chest a fraction away from mine.
“Give it to me,” he says, his eager eyes full of anticipation.
“I’d rather not.” I wink at him, clutching the parchment before spinning on my heels, but I only make it two paces before he’s in front of me again, blocking my path.
His blue eyes twinkle with the delight of the chase, and my heart skips a beat. “Now, why would you try to run when you know I’ll catch you?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like the chase,” I say, impressed with the steadiness with which I’ve fortified my voice when I’m fully aware my legs are trembling.
“I won’t, then.”
He moves, and I go to move my arm out of the way so he can’t grab the parchment. Too late, I realize he isn’t going for the parchment at all, but my waist, and before I know what’s happening, he’s lifted me onto the dais and pushed his abdomen up against my knees.
“Are you going to try to run again?” he asks, laughter wrinkling the edges of his blue eyes even as his thumb absentmindedly plays with the fabric of my shirt at my waist.
I’m not sure how I’m expected to answer that question when I can’t breathe, much less run.
It strikes me then that I should be afraid of him. That I should remember the Nox from the day I offered to help him research my predicament.
What if I’d rather keep you?
For all the light-hearted banter, there’s a darkness inside him too. I can see it in the way his gaze goes drunk in my presence, in the way his eyes linger on me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
And then there are the shadows under his intoxicating eyes.
There’s something wrong with Nox. Something lurking behind that beautiful exterior.
But Nox isn’t the only one harboring secrets.
“I have another question for you,” Nox whispers, his breath tingling my skin.
My voice trembles. “I’m afraid you’re all out.”
He takes the uneven strand of my hair, the one we cropped for the experiment, in his hand and examines it as he brushes the ends with the pad of his thumb. “What’s the darkness from, Blaise?”
I cock my head to the side, confused.
