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The world had continued on, as it always did, even though I hadn’t left my room. It made me feel more humble about the way Nymphs here were depending on me. Because in the end, they didn’t need me. They just liked having me as the face of their cause.
Nymphs were coming in, laughing with each other, sweaty, and still red in the face from the overpowering sun. They pushed themselves to do whatever they could to get faster and better with their magic, and with their physical capabilities, should King Ganglin be able to take their magic away again. Daethian trailed behind a small group, his shirt slung over his shoulder, and a petite Nymph girl talking quickly beside him. He laughed at her joke, his hand holding his flat stomach as he took a short breath in. It looked so natural. She batted her long eyelashes and smiled up at him.
She’s smitten with him.
I pushed my hair behind me and fiddled with a few curls around my face as I watched him. See, he could get along with plenty of girls other than me. I wondered if he fancied this one at all, but he answered the question for me when his gaze flicked up to me and he did a double-take. Daethian left the girl, who was still talking, and jogged up to my side.
With wide eyes, I gave him an unforgiving glare and pointed at the girl who had stopped talking but left her mouth wide open. “Shouldn’t you say goodbye to your friend?”
“Shouldn’t I say hello to this one?” His strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me to his chest. The salty smell of sweat was overpowering as he gave me a tight hug.
“Damn, you need a shower.”
“Oh, it’s good for you. I didn’t see you at all today, so I’m assuming you didn’t get a workout in. Did you spend the day primping for our date?”
I had spent a lot of time trying to find the perfect balance between looking like I do every day and looking like I wasn’t trying too hard for my friend who I wasnotplanning on dating. However, the part of the day where Dace lay in my bed and talked to me, I would maybe leave out.
“Not a date, remember?”
“Sure.” The dark stubble on his chin had grown out a bit more. It was starting to look more like a real beard, making Daethian look even more like a man. How old was he anyway?
Together we began walking down the hall. I assumed Daethian would need to stop by his room and get clean. Maybe I could visit with Randsin while I waited for him to get ready.
“Daethian, how old are you?” I looked up at his tall frame.
He snorted. “You don’t know how old I am?”
“Do you know how old I am?”
“You’re twenty-five.” He looked down at me with a frown. “I’m twenty-seven.”
I wondered how old Dace was? Fae didn’t age quite like Nymphs. Another reason why we would never make a good pair. Fae aged until they hit their stilling and then theystopped. Depending on how much noble Fae blood they had, they could stop aging young, or they could age well into their sixties if they didn’t have much. So Dace may look barely twenty-five, but he was probably many years over that.
Nymphs, on the other hand, typically stopped aging at thirty. Though the wear and tear of enslavement had put many of us through the wringer and left us looking older than we should. But we didn’t live for hundreds and hundreds of years. The lifespan of a Nymph was, at best, one hundred and fifty. Dace acted like he wanted me, but he couldn’t have me for his lifetime. It just didn’t make sense.
“Why have I never known that?” My brow furrowed.
“That’s a good question. You never really told me though. I just did a little bit of math.” Our steps began to echo down the hall as Nymphs dispersed around us and left us alone as we grew closer and closer to our rooms.
“You can do math?” I faked surprise.
“I can do a lot more than math.” His carefree laughter carried down the hallway. He pulled his shirt off his shoulder and swiped it over his face and then his chest to soak up any remnants of his sweat. I tried not to watch, knowing it would only give him the wrong impression. Even though I didn’t want Daethian like that, it was hard not to appreciate his body.
“I’ve just got to take a quick shower, then we will be off.” He pushed open the door to reveal the mess of a room he was staying in, and I’m not quite sure that the mess wasn’t his.
The bed was still unmade, blankets pushed aside and the sheets crumpled. Clothing scattered the floor that looked and smelled like they had seen better days. Dishes of meals that he had taken back to his room remained on the long dresser and the two small end tables. Sweat rings stained the wood under many of the dishes. Even the couch looked more like a heap of blankets than actual furniture.
A red chair was pulled up next to the only window. Randsin lounged in it, with a thick book propped open in his hand. He hardly glanced up as we walked in. His typical long uniform covered the majority of his skin, hiding the many tattoos.
“Make yourself at home.” Daethian gestured to his ridiculous mess.
“It’s a dump in here.” I turned up my nose, unsure of exactly which corner the stink was coming from.
Randsin set down his book and looked up at me with a frown. One hand gripped the arm of the chair and his irises drained of color as his voice carried through the chair, then the floorboards, and up through my feet until it rang in my head.
“Try living with it,” he rasped.
