Page 9

I waited nervously as he crossed the room, wondering if he’d noticed the effect his words had had on me. My nerves jumped as Rhyan threw one leg over the front of the mat and straddled the seat behind me, one leg pressed warmly against mine.

“Is this okay?” he asked, leaning in toward me, his fingers grazing the back of my tunic. “If I untie this?”

“Go ahead.” My body tensed, aware of his presence, alert to the coming examination. But the knots that had formed in my stomach and around my heart began to loosen. Rhyan always checked in with me about everything he was doing—even when I’d given him prior permission. And he kept me informed of what was coming next and why. It made me feel safe in a way that I couldn’t ever remember feeling.

My body for the last two years had become a tool to be used. Against Meera to stop her visions. In public to distract Bamaria from any wrong steps made by my sisters. And for Tristan’s pleasure as I continued to keep up the pretense that I loved him purely and wanted to be with him. Now it was a tool for the Imperator to humiliate the reputation of Ka Batavia. It was a tool for myself to train and strengthen to pass the Emperor’s test in three months. But with Rhyan…I never felt any of that. With Rhyan, I had the distinct sense that my body was mine again.

Cool air washed over my back as he slid the laces out down the entire length of my spine. My tunic sleeves rolled down my shoulders, and I held onto the material to keep the front of my body covered. A warm, calloused hand gathered the loose strands of my hair, along with my braid, and pushed them over my shoulder, smoothing everything to the side. His fingers grazed the nape of my neck. I arched into his touch without realizing it.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Heat flushed across my face, making my cheeks redden. “No. Just stretching.”

I closed my eyes, focusing on keeping my breathing even as he removed the bandage and cured the sunleaves into a paste for my wounds. But with the feel of his hands on my back, I needed a distraction. He set the jar down beside me, and I stared at the leaves, taking note of their unique design. “I’ve never seen sunleaves shaped like that before—with the edges so blunt.”

“Hmmm?” Rhyan paused, his hands warm on my back, a welcome, soothing pressure. “Oh. They’re from Glemarian sun trees.”

I twisted my neck to look at him. The movement pushed me closer to him; our thighs pressed warmly together. “From your home?”

He offered a cocky smile. “They’re far superior to the sunleaves you have here.”

“You didn’t have to use them on me.” I wasn’t sure how rough Rhyan’s life had been in exile, traveling from one end of the Empire to the other. When I’d first seen him, his soturion uniform had been in stained tatters, and he’d been in need of a haircut and shave. I suspected anything he carried, anything he’d managed to take when he’d fled his home, had to be of great value to him. It wasn’t clear when, if ever, he’d be allowed to return. “You could have saved them.”

“Yes, but, your grace,” he said, voice teasing, “you’re the Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva. And if I have superior sunleaves available to treat you, I have to use them. We can’t just use any old inferior leaves on an heir, now can we?”

“Perhaps I am of the opinion that Bamarian leaves are superior,” I said, following his lead. I knew Rhyan well enough by now to recognize his jokes and sarcasm for what they really were—his own form of distraction. Sometimes for his benefit, sometimes for mine. “What would the Council say if they knew you’d dared to use lesser leaves on an heir?”

“I’d ask to see which studies were done to corroborate this nonsense.” His lips quirked as he finished applying my new bandage. “And I’d offer further evidence to support my claim that Bamarian cuisine is actually quite lacking.”

I laughed. “You can’t be serious! For one, that doesn’t prove your point because I see no correlation. And two, you’re just flat-out wrong.” The fare they served at the Katurium to keep the soturi strong during training did leave a bit—a lot, actually—to be desired. I could barely stomach the food; granted, most days that was from nerves. But I knew for a fact that Bamaria had some of the top restaurants in the Empire plus plenty of access to fresh fruits, vegetables, and spices.

“To counter your points, one, I am very serious, and two, that is a weak argument to make, especially when I am most definitely right,” he said, pulling my sleeves back over my shoulders. His fingers were nimble at the base of my spine, bringing the material together and lacing me back up. “I’d wager there’s studies which show that the soil in Glemaria has more nutrients, therefore better-tasting food and more effective medical treatments. So there’s your correlation, Professor Batavia. Plus, Glemarian food is just better—heartier. Tastier.”

“Or you just have a bland taste palate after years of eating all your hearty snow mountain food.”

“I’ll have you know, partner, that I have an excellent taste palate,” he said, leaning toward me. His eyes darkened, and his scent enveloped me—warm and musky with a hint of pine trees.

I still feel the taste of your lips on mine.

My mouth went dry.

Rhyan straightened, looking away, and patted my back. “It’s healing nicely.” He spoke in a clinical, detached voice. “Just one more….”

It was always like this between us. Serious and tense one moment, and in the next, we’d slip into that overly comfortable banter—flirting.

He swiped the sunleaf paste across my cheek. I’d been punched there by Meera, hard enough for her to break my skin and leave me with a black eye. He studied my face, his eyes assessing and studious. “That looks good. Now your ankle.”

Rhyan kneeled before me, taking my foot into his lap. He sucked in a breath, looking up, then deftly unlaced the sandal down to my ankle. His hands were on my calf, his warm fingers pressing and prodding before he lightly turned my foot side to side.

“He really did heal you.” He sounded like he could barely believe it. Rhyan brushed his fingers across my ankle, eliciting a small shiver through me. “I mean, obviously, or you couldn’t have done the run, but…when he appeared again, I thought maybe—”

“You thought he came back to undo it.”

“Something like that.” Rhyan’s voice darkened again.

I was grateful to the Afeyan for this. The relief from the pain had been welcome, as well as the renewed mobility. I’d been hurt so badly before the habibellum, during it, and especially after it. It was a Godsdamned miracle that not every single part of my body was screaming in pain. But my gratitude only went so far. Afeya did nothing for free. He had come back for something.

You’re the fire.