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“What?” His demanding question came quick, whatever he observed on my face unsettling him.
Desperate to change the subject, I put my fingers to my temples, closed my eyes, and rubbed little circles where it hurt. “I have some things at the dormitory I would like to recover. Will I be permitted to do that?”
“Yes, I will escort you when the females are away.”
Trying to be playful, hoping to distract from the dangerous, winding path we both were testing, I smirked. “Trying to discover all my hiding places?”
“No.” Softening fractionally, he cocked his head, reaching out to run the back of his fingers down my arm. “I want to be with you, because I love you.”
It should not have warmed me when he said such things, but I was growing accustomed to his declarations. And maybe it was the addiction, but the intimacy of his touch soothed in ways I didn’t understand.
With a shy smile, I teased, “You just want your pink rock back. Sorry, sir, but you can’t have it.”
The sound of his laughter—I enjoyed it.
I may have even enjoyed the sharp slap he sent to my rear in retaliation for my sass.
We left his fine home, me somber, him his natural, unfeeling, child-killing self.
Side by side, quiet in the car as his driver carried me to an ugly future, I tried not to think about it.
At least the descent to the academy was beautiful, my view of sky quickly replaced by an undulating wall of perfect fog. With only the filters holding so much angry vapor back, it crashed against an invisible wall, churned upward, dancing.
And I was fully in love with it.
Staring longingly out the window, I could not wait to land, to have the door open so wet air could rush in. Suck it deep into my lungs and savor.
To feel the specks of mist hit my face and roll them around on my tongue.
My illicit craving had drawn my mate’s attention. I knew he watched me, that he guessed at my thoughts, but I didn’t care.
“You’ll just never understand.” I gave him that, addressing the chasm between us before he might say something I’d hate. “You can’t change the fact that I was born for the fog. No point in being jealous.” My fingertips went to the window, touching the glass as if I touched the distant wall of mist. “I loved it first.”
Before Cyderial might say something to match the threatening look in his eyes, his driver opened the door. Just as I knew it would, a wave of moist air rushed in to coat us in perfection.
Shivering with delight, I even purred to suck the dampness deep into my lungs.
“Come, you troublesome thing.” Cyderial handed me out of the car, his grip on my hand a bit too tight. “It’s time to go inside now.”
“No walk?” The farmland wasn’t far, and considering the cool weather and extra humidity of the day, I was sure the ground would be nice and spongy.
But I was not going to be allowed to go there, my duties now indoors. Training the itty-bitties on how to handle a sword so they might die for humans who loathed them.
“No walk.” Cageyness in his voice, suspicion in his every glance, the reply was abrupt. Cyderial didn’t like me being anywhere near the thing I wanted most. He didn’t like that there was no hiding my pleasure at being in my element.
He hated that I hesitated.
And I wondered if he imagined I might consider making a run for it. If he was calculating how quickly he might catch me, how badly I might be hurt in a scuffle should I resist.
I had calculated these things too.
The odds were not in my favor.
One last perfect breath, and I straightened my jacket with my free hand, then walked toward an unfamiliar entrance to the academy at his side.
The building itself was as ugly as ever, rusted and dinged-up by time. An actual remnant of the original ships that brought humanity to Planet Risa. Hybrids had been allocated the oldest materials for our use, and perhaps that should have bothered me, but I liked the rough edges.
I liked the sturdiness.
