Distracting.
Her voice is quiet when she breaks the silence, as if almost reluctant to interrupt the moment. “So, the answer to my question?”
Right. That.
“Is it really so shocking that I don’t want you to die?” I lean back slightly so I can meet her eyes. “So shocking that I would help someone?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I almost laugh. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“It’s just that,” she pauses, her eyes flitting between mine as if searching for the answer in them, “I thought you were more like your father.”
Her words slam into me. Father is...well, he is a king. He’s cold and strict and very rarely impressed, even with his own sons. I suppose in some ways he’s made me to be like him, schooled me on how to act, what to feel, and more importantly, what not to feel. Thanks to him, I’ve crafted a jumble of different masks that I can slip on and off at will.
I’m a mess. A mess of muffled emotions and well-built walls.
But because I don’t quite know the answer to her question myself, I ask her one of my own. “Is that why you hate me so much? Because you thought I was like my father who you clearly don’t care for?”
“I don’t hate you,” she answers too quickly, pausing to wonder if she’s said the right thing while I wonder why she hasn’t said it sooner.
My smile is crooked. “Oh, you don’t hate me? So, what, every threat on my life is a declaration of love, then?”
“I said I don’t hate you, prince. That doesn’t mean I don’t despise you.”
I duck my head, eyes searching hers. “I think you despise that you don’t despise me.” Her mouth falls open before she snaps it shut and fixes me with a glare. I seem to have rendered her speechless.
Well, that’s a first.
“Use your words, Gray.” I smile, spinning her before pulling her back to me. “Tell me, am I wrong?”
“I thought I was the one asking you the questions?” she says, distracting and diverting my attention with that devastating smile and deliberate words.
And she thinks I’m the calculating one.
She looks away from me, biting the inside of her cheek before meeting my gaze again. “Would you have helped one of the others?” A pause. “Someone other than Jax or Andy?”
Someone other than the few people I truly care about.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Darling, I doubt that the sight of someone dying would affect me as much as you do alive and well.”
She swallows. “You’re a shameless flirt, Azer.”
“Only for you.”
“Hmm. Now it seems you’re also a shameless liar.”
I huff out a quiet laugh before saying, “My turn to ask a question.” She opens her mouth, most likely to argue, but I cut her off. “So, out of all the people roaming around Loot that day, why was I fortunate enough to be robbed blind?”
Her mouth snaps shut before splitting into a smile. “You fit a description.”
“A description?”
Her smile is anything but sweet. “Yes. You looked cocky and chalked full of coins. Those are my favorite targets.”
I lean closer towards her. “Well, this target knew you stole from him.”
“You knew I stole from you too late.”
“Funny, I seem to remember that I caught you not shortly after.”
Her smile is smug. “Only because I came back and saved you.” Then she laughs. “So, what, you don’t think I could steal from you again without you noticing?”
“I think that I notice everything you do. So, no.”
She pauses, her face close to mine, momentarily stunned by my words. I smile, enjoying the sight of her flustered. Her next words are soft, slow. “Is that a challenge, Azer?”
“It’s a fact, Gray.”
“Is it?” she says, suddenly dangling something between our faces. “That’s interesting, because I nicked this off you almost immediately after we started dancing.”
I squint in the dim light, swearing under my breath when I realize what it is that she’s holding. Braxton’s leather strap, once safe in my pocket, is now pinched between her fingers and swinging in front of my face.
“I’m impressed, Gray.” I shrug casually before adding, “I’m mostly shocked I didn’t notice with how closely I pay attention to you.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Distraction.”
My gaze sweeps over her quickly before returning to that smile. “You are quite good at that, aren’t you?”
She’s quiet as she watches me closely before looking away. I avert my gaze too, preparing myself for another one of her prying questions.
“What’s your favorite color?”
My eyes snap to hers. “What?” I nearly choke on my laughter.
“You’re favorite color. What is it?”
For once, I almost step on her toes out of shock and sheer wonder. “Of all the things you could ask me, you ask what my favorite color is?” I can’t keep the smile from spreading across my face.
She blows a strand of hair from her eyes in annoyance. “I feel like I don’t know many things about you, so I figured I’d start with the basics.” An amused sigh. “I’m letting you off the hook with an easy question, so don’t disappoint. What is your favorite color?”
I spin her if only to give myself some time to think. I’d never thought about what my favorite color was before. It never seemed important.
Not until I looked into a pair of ocean blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing.
Not until I looked into a pair of fiery blue eyes and realized that perhaps burning was a painless thing.
Not until I looked into a pair of sky-blue eyes and realized that perhaps falling was a peaceful thing.
I’d never thought about what my favorite color was before because I hadn’t seen one that was worthy of the title. Until now, that is.
“Blue,” I say, my voice low.
“Hmm.” She’s looking at me thoughtfully, studying me sincerely. “I would have never guessed.”
Neither would I.
“And yours?” I ask, watching her as she thinks.
She opens her mouth and then shuts it, considering something. Her jaw sets. “I don’t have one.” With a small shrug, she asks, “Favorite food or dessert?”
“We’re in the middle of a Trial, and you’re asking me about my favorite food?”
She ignores me. “Well, I know it’s not rabbit. I see the way your mouth twists when you eat it—”
“I do not twist—” I pause, grinning. “Have you been looking at my mouth, Gray?”
She opens her own mouth to argue only to huff instead. “Just answer the damn question, Azer.”
I chuckle and spin her slowly. “Easy. Lemon tarts.”
She snorts. “You’re kidding. Lemon tarts? You’re a rich prince who could have any food he wants, and you would choose lemon tarts?”
“Yes, lemon tarts,” I mimic. “And now I’m making you eat some with me when we finally get out of here.”
“Over my dead body.”
My smile is wicked. “That can be arranged.”
And there she goes, making good on her threat to stomp on my toes, seeing that her feet are her only weapon at the moment. “Oops.”
“Vicious, little thing,” I murmur under my breath.
“You don’t know the half of it, prince.”