“I didn’t think we had the space to run a marathon.”
I spun toward the voice, toward Risha who was walking through the dim red light toward me, her arms full of what looked like sandwiches and who knew what else.
I simultaneously smiled and cringed, something she did not miss.
“Are you okay, Ryland?” Her voice was sweet, and the disgust that had filled me at seeing the food left quickly. “Is it okay that I am here?”
“More than okay.”
I thought I had done a fairly decent job of keeping Joclyn clueless of my affection for her for all those years. I had done everything right: the right gifts, the right words, the right amount of touch. It had taken all my instincts not to go all caveman on her and claim my prize, and in the end, I had done it, anyway.
But Risha…
Risha brought out a whole new, awkward side of me I hadn’t even known existed, one that stammered and blushed for dumb reasons and somehow forgot to be suave. It was something no guy should ever be, especially over a girl. It drove me crazy, though she seemed to find it adorable.
“Good,” she said with one of her wide grins that twisted through my stomach, “because, with the look you were giving me, I was sure I had grown a lizard head out of my shoulders.”
She laughed at that, but I gawked at her, trying to get my mind to pick up the pace and form coherent sentences.
“No!” That was too loud. “It’s just that you smell … I mean the food smells … I mean the food…” I let whatever mumbo jumbo I had been trying to say fade away as she laughed, her green eyes sparkling as the bell-like chime of her amusement made my stomach flip around a few more times. All thought was slowly draining from my mind like goo.
There was something about her—about Risha—that had been troubling for me. Considering the way she always appeared with food when I was training Jaromir, despite having all of the responsibilities to tend to as Ilyan’s second, she had still managed to seek me out. I would venture a guess that I wasn’t the only one fighting off an overly strong attachment.
That and the way she looked at me pretty much sealed it for me.
“What is it, Ryland? Don’t you like food?” She could barely get the words out with how much she was laughing. Her eyes danced as the loose curls of her strawberry-blonde hair bobbed and swayed over her back.
“Something like that.” I tried my hand at subtly again, this time keeping my voice low, something that was made easier by the deep Czech we spoke.
My stomach flipped as her cheeks tinged with red, her eyes piercing mine while she took a step closer, her head held high as she offered one of the disgusting sandwiches to me.
“Or was it this supposed marathon you were running?”
My mind went blank. “What marathon?”
“When I came in … You were talking about a marathon.” She smiled, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked at me.
“Oh.” I could barely think.
It took me a full minute to catch on. Apparently, she had drained my mind of thought more than I had assumed.
“It wasn’t a real marathon.”
“I didn’t think so.” Her eyes glittered even more, staring at me with some message I couldn’t quite decipher before she looked away, toward Jaromir who was still shooting smoke away from himself, still trying to accomplish that darned wrist flick.
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, fully aware it was also something I had picked up from Ilyan yet not really caring at the moment.
“Jaromir is the marathon, I take it.” She took another step toward me, her sudden change in proximity making it very hard to concentrate.
Come on, Ryland, what’s wrong with you?
“I think I realized how much more he sees me as a father figure and less like a…” I struggled to find a word.
I could feel the heat of her skin radiate against me, making it very hard to focus.
“Friend,” she supplied.
Close enough.
I nodded.
“Well, to be fair, Ry, I don’t think he’s supposed to be your friend or you his.”
I turned toward her quickly, my eyes narrowing in question, but all she did was smile and move to sit on the old, bloodstained cobbles, her hand waving beside her in welcoming.
I sat beside her without question, my heart continuing to hammer uncomfortably in my chest.
“You can’t really be his friend and teach him everything he needs to know—to fight, to win … You have to train him, not play with him.”
She was saying things I already knew, things I should have been more careful about from the beginning. However, it was so much more complex than that, and I felt more than a little awkward admitting it to her.
I exhaled heavily and turned back to Jaromir, a small smile sneaking out at the boy. The streams of smoke were gone, replaced by tiny, little rings he had somehow figured out how to conjure all on his own.
“He figured out about my relationship to Edmund and what we are really training him for.” My voice was dead.