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“How was the rehabilitation this evening?” she asked.

Before I could answer, Rina said, “He’s doing well.” Her dark eyes cut to mine. “I’m certain he’s hiding how much pain he’s in right now, but that’s to be expected. He’ll be fighting and riding in no time.”

Pride warmed my chest. “That I will. In time to join the first line of our army.” A mix of admiration and wariness swept through Ophelia’s eyes, but just as those full lips I wanted to taste so desperately parted, I asked, “Now, what’s going on here?”

“We’re working,” Ophelia answered, fidgeting as if she knew exactly where my mind went. Spirits, seeing her flustered around me was still so new and alluring.

Rina broke my attention, admonishing, “And you should have been in bed hours ago, Tolek.”

“Yes, my kind and lovely healer, but I’m not. And it looks like you’ve been in here for some time.”

Santorina’s gaze flicked to Ophelia, who said, “I set up in here shortly after…I was more comfortable here.” Because it was closer to you, she didn’t add, but her stare did, and the urge to kiss her nearly stole control of me.

Did she want that, though? Would it make her uncomfortable? The past few days had been hectic, and we had yet to address us. She wanted this. I’d heard that much while unconscious. But how fast, I wasn’t sure.

So instead of doing one of the many things I’d dreamed of doing to her, I settled for tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and relishing in her answering shiver.

“You’re always welcome here,” I said.

She scooted her chair closer, cheeks a soft pink. “We’re going over the plans for Rina to build a training program for humans. The acting Masters of Trade have been helping, and we’ve been in touch with the chancellors about it.”

I glanced over the papers—lists of cities and contacts most likely to participate. Where the largest populations of humans resided, and how the training would be executed. It was only the foundation, but it was roots. Damn strong ones at that.

“This is impressive,” I said thoughtfully, flipping the pages.

“And we’ve done enough on it for the evening,” Santorina said, stacking her papers and pushing them to the organized end of the table. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

As Santorina left, Ophelia rose and walked to the other end of the table—the one with pages haphazardly lying about and books marked with random objects to hold the page. Was that truly a dagger in one?

I followed her, my leg rested a bit, and observed her as she pulled a file toward her and unwound the tie. Took note of the heavy bags beneath her eyes and the weight I could practically see pressing on her shoulders.

She was more stoic these days. It twisted my heart to know she’d been battling this grief for two months, alone. Sure, she had people around, but she carried the burden of everyone’s safety, everyone’s happiness, everyone’s anger.

She hadn’t said that in the infirmary the first night I woke, but she might as well have. It was clear in each shaking breath, in each tear she tried to blink back. Ophelia had been catering to everyone else without wanting to divulge her own pain for fear of it taking away from their own. She thought they’d all been going through enough and put this city on her back to carry.

She didn’t have to anymore now that I was here. We’d support each other, and that spark would return to her eyes.

“It’s late,” I started. “You should?—”

“Did you win tonight?” Ophelia asked, taking me by surprise.

“Three games of Sanctifiers, actually.” I smiled proudly.

She was quiet for a moment, mind spiraling through all those magnificent thoughts she held.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she blurted, but it wasn’t the whole truth. This timid side of her tightened my stomach.

“You can tell me, Alabath. Whatever is concerning you, we’ll talk about it.”

Her brow furrowed as those words sank in, like they surprised her a little. Like she wasn’t used to them.

Though I had always supported her most reckless ideas, she’d been pushed so many times in her last relationship, she now had this wall up that allowed her to stand entirely on her own. It was admirable, but Angels, I wanted to know the fears hiding behind it.

“I worry,” she started, “for the purpose of it.”

Ah, there it was. When Malakai had disappeared, Ophelia used alcohol to blur her pain. She was worried I was using gambling the same way.