I roll my eyes. “Cutting your hair does not change who you are in your heart. And, yes, you are very beautiful. No need to worry about that, but it is still brittle around your face,” I add, hoping he can’t tell that admitting he is beautiful brings heat to my cheeks. “Do you want me to cut it shorter?”
He cringes but nods, and I take my knife to it, carefully trimming the worst of the burned parts off. “What baffles me,” Golmarr says, peering up at me as I work, “is how my hair is so burned if the rest of me isn’t.” He pats his chest. “And my clothes. How am I not charred nearly to…death?” Reaching up, he wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping the knife, and stands. “Sorrowlynn?”
I gulp. “Yes?”
With his hand still around my wrist, he narrows his eyes. “You said that before you killed the fire dragon, I was too injured to get out of the cave. Even with help. How injured was I? What exactly did the fire dragon do to me?”
“He flew at you. Do you remember that?”
Golmarr nods. “You screamed a warning. When I turned, the beast was nearly upon me.”
“Do you recall anything after that?”
His brow furrows. “I remember a burst of light, and then I woke up and the fire dragon was dead.”
“Did the burst of light hurt?”
Golmarr shakes his head, and his short hair swishes around his ears. “I don’t remember it hurting. What was the light?”
“He blew fire on you, and you started burning. I put it out before it killed you.”
“You put it out? How?”
“By lying on top of you,” I admit, even though it sounds horribly scandalous. “I was wet from the lake. It was the fastest way to smother the flames.”
His hand tightens on my wrist. “That was really brave. So, how injured was I? I have heard if you inhale dragon fire, you cook from the inside out.”
“Your chest was covered with blisters, and you could hardly breathe.”
He studies me with narrowed eyes and takes a deep breath of air. “If I was burned with dragon fire so badly that I can’t remember it, then how was I healed? How did I wake up without a single burn? How am I able to breathe so well?” He touches his cheek. “And how did this go away?” I don’t answer. “I assumed the dragon healed me like he healed you, but he didn’t, did he?”
I shrug and stare at the ground between our feet, and try to pull my wrist from his hand, but he won’t let go.
“You healed me.” It is a stated fact. When I don’t deny it, he puts his free hand beneath my chin and tips my head up, forcing me to look at him. “Did you truly heal me?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I admit.
“Thank you.” He pulls me against him and holds my head to his shoulder. “Thank you.” The sun shines down on us and warms my hair, and I slowly sink into Golmarr and press my hands against his back. My eyes slip shut, and the thump of his heart matches mine, and I imagine our blood is pumping in perfect unison. He puts his palm over my ear, so his fingers are splayed in my hair, and I feel his lips on my forehead, and the sun seems to shine so bright against my eyelids I wonder if I am on fire. He leaves his lips there, and every time he exhales, his breath washes over my face and I breathe it in.
Memories of hundreds of other people’s kisses fill my mind, and it is almost like I have experienced every single one of them. But I haven’t. The urge to grab Golmarr’s face, to tangle my hands in his chin-length hair and kiss him, makes my mouth water. I grip my hands tight behind his back and force them to stay still. I am a Faodarian princess. For me to initiate a kiss would be shameful—men are the ones who are supposed to do that. I think of the lace bloomers meant for my wedding night, which now hang below the level of my skirt, and giggle. I am shameful and scandalous and immodest and everything else I have been taught my whole life not to be. And I wish Golmarr would angle my face up and kiss me.
Golmarr releases me, and my hopes for a kiss are dashed. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, a touch of a smile on his mouth.
I look down at my clothing: the bloomers, the skirt that is more than halfway up my thighs—even my voluminous once-white shirt is missing the top two buttons. “I was just thinking how improper it would be for me to kiss you, but I think I have already crossed the line from improper to disgraceful.”
One of Golmarr’s eyebrows slowly rises, and he takes a long, slow look at my legs before meeting my eyes. “You were thinking about kissing me?”
I swallow and nod.
He leans in to me, so close that I feel his every exhaled breath on my face. “One of these days, you should give it a try,” he whispers. “Probably sooner than later.” He freezes there, his lips so close to mine that all I would have to do to kiss him is pucker. His lips thin and quiver, like he is fighting the urge to smile, and then he throws his head back and laughs. “I swear, Sorrowlynn of Faodara, you have more self-control than any woman I have ever known, and you are teaching me things I never knew I didn’t know.”