Page 2

I look up to see Evander leaning back in a wooden chair, his booted feet crossed on the seat of another.

Strong arms hook across his broad chest, making his biceps bulge.

His position is the picture of leisure and comfort, contrasting with the armor and weapons he boasts, looking both out of place and right at home at the same time amid the rebel camp.

I quirk a brow and continue walking toward him, reaching an arm across him to grab a chunk of bread from the meager breakfast array.

The cooks do what they can with what they have available, but it is winter here.

And despite their summer and fall harvests, we usually start to run low around this time of year.

Though spring will be here before we know it.

“Where have you been?” he asks, gazing up at me through thick lashes.

“I’ve been busy,” I respond. He knows full well what I’ve been up to and why he hasn’t seen me in days.

My mouth turns down as I stare at the bread in my hand, wishing it were a warm scone, flakey and scattered with chocolate.

Smothered in fresh butter. Those were my favorite.

I feel my mouth watering just thinking about them, but the bread will do for now, even if it seems to crumble like ash in my mouth when I take a bite.

Straightening myself, I dare to ask Evander what he’s up to today. He still makes me uncomfortable, even to this day. It isn’t a bad uncomfortable and never has been. But it’s a dangerous one, nonetheless.

“And where might you be headed to this morning?” I question, trying to remain nonchalant. And likely failing miserably.

He smiles, revealing the deep dimple on his left cheek.

His molten brown eyes have a beautiful intensity to them, flecked with deep gold.

Long, sooty lashes sweep across his lids.

He tugs a hand through his chestnut hair, pulling stray pieces from his eyes before speaking.

It’s longer up top and no matter how he slicks it—slightly to the side and back—the unruly strands always seemed to fight free.

The casual motion makes me shift on my feet, too aware of his beauty.

“I’m on patrol today. Helara added more security after...” Evander trails off and quickly averts his gaze. No need to finish that sentence.

“Right,” I reply.

Helara, our fearless leader and Captain of the northern camp of rebels, recently received word from our southern camp that scouts were spotted nearby.

They were tracked and killed, but still.

They were only miles away from where my mother and sister are hidden.

A chill skitters across my skin, puckering the flesh of my arms at the thought.

It means our time is running out if the king’s scouts made it that far.

They are finally closing in after five years of hunting us.

He glances to the window beside him, a thin layer of frost decorating its edges. Then those eyes slide back to me. "And who has the pleasure of your company on this lovely day?" he drawls.

I stand mere inches from him, so I scoop an apple off the table and move back a few steps, placing my back against the wall as I watch him.

"Cato today," I respond, unable to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.

The thought of the shrunken old man and the way he drones on forces an audible sigh from my lungs and my hand flies to cover my mouth.

Cato had been good to me, always. But some days I have more patience for him than others.

The bark of his laugh echoes in the room, deep and hearty, his eyes glistening with humor. I bite down into the apple to keep myself from smiling too brightly in response, chewing with a smirk tugging at my mouth.

Evander kicks his feet off the chair and stands, stretching his broad shoulders and making the leather armor creak with the effort.

Then, moving quickly, he closes the gap between us in three strides and snatches the apple from my hand.

His eyes remain on me as he sinks his teeth into the shining garnet skin with a snap before tossing it back.

My hand darts out to catch it, a honed reflex.

My body moves quicker than my mind in that instant, grasping the fruit without ever dropping his gaze.

His eyes widen and the corner of his mouth turns up. "Well, your training with Garrith has paid off, to say the least."

Indeed, it has. For years, I’ve joined the others to train in the evenings with the former soldier and his men. Though, in more recent months, Helara requested I take more intensive sessions with him. They were grueling, exhausting my body daily, but I grew as a fighter in those months.

Few in the camp knew of my destiny, what I was being groomed for. It was kept quiet, the information only relayed to a select few, mostly those who knew me before I’d come of age. But Evander had known me then, known when it had happened. And it shows in the curve of his smile now.

Gone is the thin and weak eighteen-year-old girl that arrived at this camp five years ago.

The girl that stands in her place is changed.

Her body is stronger, muscles long and lean from learning to fight and trekking the mountain paths on early morning runs.

I can kill with sword or dagger, more agile than most of the men in the camp.

And my mind is sharper too, thanks to honing my magic over the time with Cato.

"Just a little," I remark with a wry smile. He holds my gaze and I sweep my tongue over my lower lip, my mouth suddenly too dry.

I become increasingly aware of the burn in his eyes as they drift over me, dipping from my eyes to my lips and following the trail of my tongue.

The heat from his body sets mine on fire when he stands this close, his face inches from mine.

The earthy smell of the worn leather armor mixes with the crisp citrus of his soap, and I breathe it in, the smell lingering in my nose.

I wonder if he can hear the deep thud in my chest. I resist the urge to wipe my now clammy palms on my pants.

Does he have any idea the effect he has on me?

The door slams open behind him, cracking the wooden panels of the wall.

The sharp wind that sweeps in is biting.

Evander doesn’t startle or even move at the sound, but I see the smirk he wears as I snap my head to the door.

My focus had been wholly on him—on the way he smelled, the way his full lips smiled, and the way his eyes raked over me.

I’m yanked from my reverie to see the dark figure in the doorway.

“Ev. Time to go.” Quinn crowds the frame with his massive body.

A crossbow is strapped to his back, quiver brimming with arrows.

He’s armed to the teeth, daggers decorating his chest, and a sword gracing either side.

Only a fool would think that the rebel warrior doesn’t have at least three more weapons in places unseen.

Quinn is intimidating to most, but he has a soft side, despite his terrifying frame.

He nods to me, his eyes narrowing as he glances between Evander and me.

“Good morning, Bria,” he says, his voice softening when he speaks to me. It’s a far cry from the rough tone he gave to his best friend just now.

“Quinn.” I nod back.

Evander stares at me a beat longer and I meet his eyes, the intensity still there. For a moment, I feel lost in the deep brown, but Quinn clears his throat behind Ev as he stands in the icy doorframe—a warning to get moving.

“See you later, Bria.” Ev’s smile doesn’t falter as he turns on his heel to leave.

He grabs the midnight cloak off the back of the chair and slings his crossbow over his chest. He strides to the door before glancing back at me with a flash of teeth.

My stomach drops with that smile and the thought of how close we just were.

But I see Quinn staring, his hazel eyes darting quickly between us, noting the interaction with furrowed brows.

He does not look pleased. He grasps Evander by the shoulders and shoves him brusquely through the door and into the frigid morning.

The door slams shut behind them and I remember to breathe.