“Just a little more, Pae,” I breathe. She shudders and I don’t miss the movement. Whether because of the pain or because I finally said her name, I’m not sure. I’m reminded of when she hit the ground. When I was feral, frantic, and I suddenly aware that I hadn’t said her name to her since we met.
And in that moment, I realized that I’d wanted to say it—wanted her to hear it from my lips. Realized that if she died, I would never again get to look into those blue eyes and utter those two syllables that have been a constant in my mind.
So I said her name, again and again. I finally let myself do it. Let that last piece of attachment to her lock into place. Just saying her name felt intimate, personal, somehow.
And now I forever want her name on my lips and rolling off my tongue until I’m drunk on the taste and sound of it.
What the hell is wrong with me.
Her eyes find mine, sparkling like a body of water in the firelight. “Why are you doing this?”
Her gaze tells me that there’s no escaping the question this time, though I’m not even sure I have an answer for her or myself. All I know is that I have this urge to protect her, be with her, tease her, touch her.
It’s terrifying.
“What’s the fun in winning by default?” I say instead. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I took your leather and left you to die?”
She lifts her head off the ground, eyes searching mine as she scoffs, “So you’re telling me, that you did all of this to be a gentlemanly?”
“Why does that come as such a surprise to you?”
“Maybe because you have to be a gentleman to be gentlemanly.”
“And who says I’m not?”
“I’d like to find someone who says you are.”
I smile at her, taking in every detail of her face beneath mine. I open my mouth to say something witty and wildly inappropriate when a twig snaps to my left. A Sight watches us with glazed eyes, documenting the scene before him. And I’m embarrassed that I have no idea how long he has been standing there, not with how distracted I was with the girl before me.
I can only imagine what Father will make of this—of us. Of me helping, saving, enjoying being with the girl from the slums.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve disappointed him, and it certainly won’t be the last.
The Sight blinks, clearing his blurry eyes before disappearing into the night. I turn back towards Paedyn, her attention still fixed on the spot where the man once was. Then I look down at her exposed stomach, and the wound now completely stitched there.
I begin wrapping the remains of her large shirt over the wound and around her waist. Paedyn’s eyes follow my movements, tracking my hands and tracing my face.
“You never did answer my question,” I say far more casually than I currently feel.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Azer.”
“I asked who the hell did this to you.”
She laughs dismissively, turning her head from mine. “Oh, that question. It doesn’t matter.”
“If it doesn’t matter, then tell me.”
She shoots me an annoyed look before she sighs, giving in. “Ace. Happy now? He used his illusions to draw me in.” She’s suddenly pale again. “He made me see...things.”
I’ve never seen her look so haunted, and I’m shocked by how much I hate it. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” she says softly. “No, I didn’t kill him.”
We fall silent, and I run my hand over her crude bandage, making sure it’s secure as she stares at me. Then I hand her the water canteen before forcing her to choke down some burnt rabbit.
I busy myself around the small camp, and when I look back at Paedyn from where I stoke the flames of the dying fire, her lids are drooping, eyelashes fluttering with the promise of sleep. Then I catch her shiver slightly in the brisk, night breeze.
Well that just won’t do.
I kneel beside her, scooping her into my arms before pulling her off the ground and carrying her closer to the fire. She grunts groggily against my chest before I lay her down on the packed dirt, watching her chest rise and fall with steady breaths, so unlike the ragged, shallow ones she choked on earlier.
And then I sit there. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away as she drifts to sleep beside the fire, alive and breathing deeply. She shakes again, making me wish I had a blanket to offer her, had something to offer her. The truth of that thought hits me like a blow to the gut.
I have nothing to offer her.
I am wrong, so wrong for her. She is too brave, too bold, too bloody good for me. Maybe I could be a better man. Maybe I could be more like Kitt with his heart on his sleeve and happiness on display. Maybe the future Enforcer could break down a few walls, become a man who is more than the masks he wears around his people.
But ever since she discovered I was the prince and declared us enemies, I’ve played along, not wanting to be outdone. And it’s fun. It’s a distraction for the both of us, the toying and teasing with one another.
But now?
If I am to be her enemy, I want it to be because she loathes herself for wanting me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paedyn
I wake to the unfortunately familiar sound of birds squawking above me.
I woke up.
Squinting in the blinding sun, I gently run my hands over where my healing wound hides beneath the folds of battered cloth.
I’m alive. I’m breathing. I’m healing.
Then my fingers find their way to the strap of leather tight around my arm. I’m shocked to find it’s still there. Shocked that Kai didn’t cut it from my dying body in the first place. Shocked that he saved my life, nursed me back to health, and let me keep my stupid strap of leather through it all.
Apparently, he went through all this trouble to be a good sport, a gentleman.
My ass.
“Good morning. Well, it’s almost afternoon, actually.”
My head whips towards the deep voice coming from behind. And there he is, hands in pockets, ankles crossed, and leaning against a low hanging branch. Now that I’m not a breath away from death, his appearance and lack of shirt is suddenly extremely distracting. I avert my gaze quickly, though I don’t miss the smirk sliding to his lips when he catches me staring.
Annoying, arrogant ass.
“I’m surprised you’re still here. Along with my band,” I say, casually dusting the dirt from my clothes.
He huffs out a soft laugh behind me. “Eager to be rid of me, darling?”
I clear my throat and turn to face him, leaning back on my palms as I eye him curiously. His hair is messy, strands of it clinging to his forehead with sweat, right above where his eyes shine like bits of silver. There’s a shadow of stubble clinging to his sharp jaw, and I can just make out the faint divot of his right dimple, equally distracting and devastating.
I can’t stand it.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, gesturing between the two of us.
“The plan for...?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, peering at me, playing with me. He knows exactly what I mean.
“For us.”
“Us. I like the sound of that, don’t you?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring him. “What do we do now?”
“That is a very loaded question, Gray.”