Page 20

CHAPTER NINE

IN WHICH THE HERO ROLLS HIGH FOR CHARISMA

Not by choice, we all huddled together on the floor that night.

I picked a spot against the front wall of the shrine while Vyrain and Luthri argued over who would get to sleep next to me.

When the dust settled, Lu was content at my back, Hohem and Vyrain snored in each other’s arms by my feet, and Yrra was established on the far side of the hall.

Daethie tucked herself out of accidental crushing distance on one of the shelves that had borne a mana lamp.

I lay on my side, head resting in the crook of my arm, and faced the wall.

My eyes traced the wood grain as Mother Nature unleashed her rage against the roof overhead.

The abusive pounding above and muted trickling all around echoed in the small space, making it difficult to find sleep.

Even when I closed my eyes, the audible barrage continued, made worse by awareness of the male body behind me.

To his credit, Luthri had squeezed himself against the opposite wall to give me as much space as possible.

I wasn’t sure which way he was facing, and I didn’t care.

Spooning or butt-to-butt came with the same degree of intimacy as far as I was concerned.

And regardless, it was unavoidable given the circumstances, so there was no point in feeling a way about it.

He put forward a certain persona, but I was beginning to think the shallow image I had of him wasn’t entirely accurate.

He was considerate in his own way. Pulled his weight.

Had a sense of humor, even if it could be annoying at times.

It wasn’t all bad. That was probably how he’d been so successful at his “quest” thus far, come to think of it.

One didn’t repeatedly score with a wide range of people without having at least some redeemable features.

It was fair to assume he was decent in bed too.

That didn’t negate the dangers of sleeping with someone you had to live with, though.

That had been my primary excuse when it came to rejecting Vyrain, so it would hardly be fair to overlook that for Luthri.

But… why think that way? I shouldn’t need an excuse.

People could judge me all they wanted, but I made my own choices, and “no” was a complete sentence.

A body by my feet turned over, the friction of linen against a sleeping mat temporarily harmonizing with the rainfall. My breath caught at the sudden rise of guilt.

What is this all about? No one knew my thoughts. I didn’t owe Vyrain anything, either. He was an acquaintance, nothing more. He didn’t have a chance to begin with.

Something else rustled in the dark.

“Mar? Are you asleep?” Lu’s low voice had my heart stuttering in my chest.

“What?” I grumbled, hoping that one word wouldn’t betray where my mind had been.

“I think I get the attraction of sleeping under a roof now.”

What sort of nonsense…? Taking care to keep quiet, I shimmied around to face the man-shaped lump that was Luthri and leveled him with a scathing look that I hoped he could see. “Is this your first time experiencing weather?”

“No.” Teeth flashed in the dim light. “I thought the opportunity to tease me for saying something stupid would be tempting enough to make you turn around.”

My mouth opened and shut. He had me there. I met his apparent delight with a scowl but didn’t go back to facing the wall. Not yet. “So? Why did you need me to turn around?”

Lu shuffled closer. When I didn’t react, he stole another inch. While his elbow nudged the edge of my mat, his arms remained folded against his chest so as not to invade my space further. “Is this all right?” he asked in a whisper.

The warmth of his breath hovered in the air between us.

I was tempted to say no. He would back up if I did, for the same reason he put me on my feet when we faced a horde of man-eating bugs.

The knowledge settled any trepidation I may have had.

Plus, he smelled amazing—like caramelized oranges with the bitter edge of cloves.

“It’s fine,” I said, discreetly trying to get another whiff. “What’s up?”

“What do you think?” Lu jerked his head toward the rear of the building to indicate the old man sleeping on the other side of the wall. “The monk. You get a read on him at all?”

Why did he ask? Had I missed a warning sign? “I think there’s no reason to assume he isn’t who he says he is, but there’s always the possibility that he’s hiding something. Why?”

“No reason. Just wanted your opinion.”

I blinked. When was the last time someone had genuinely wanted my opinion? Something somersaulted into my throat and stayed there, making it difficult to get the next few words out. “That’s, uh… well, yeah. That’s my opinion.”

“Okay. Good.”

I got another smile. It shouldn’t make me feel anything—he gave them out like candy—but he did have a nice smile. And when it was directed my way, I almost forgot that I wasn’t supposed to like him. Right now, I was even tempted to smile back.

I brought the conversation back around to the cleric before things got weird. “The beast he turned into. I want to know more about that, like how he made himself so much bigger than his normal size. I’ve changed myself into a lot of things, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

“Maybe it’s a shahim thing?” Lu suggested.

“Maybe so.” Tomorrow, I’d ask him about it.

If it was, no harm done. But if it was something I could learn…

Most of what I knew about my powers had been discovered through trial and error.

Before I came through The Rift, I didn’t even know about mana .

I felt the difference with my first change on this side.

Using my magic had been unpleasant back on Earth, but here, it was more like shifting into a second skin. Literally and figuratively.

Luthri broke the silence, derailing my train of thought. “I have something for you.”

He propped himself on one elbow to reach his pack. As the rain pounded away above our heads, he struggled one-handed with the ties, trying not to make noise. Daethie muttered something about a challenge to the death as she rolled over in her sleep.

“While I was out foraging earlier,” Lu began in hushed tones, sliding his hand into the main pocket, “I came across a rinsom bush, and—oh. That’s unfortunate.”

He’d withdrawn his hand to show me a large red blossom, its brilliance pitifully mangled by travel. The petals were crumpled and hanging on by a thread. As we stared at it, he loosed a defeated sigh. “Well, it was the nicest one of the bunch.”

Pressing my lips together to hold back a smile, I said, “I’ll take your word for it.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, not because it was a tragedy—though it was—but because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Luthri, the man on a mission to notch a member of every fae race in his bedpost, had thought of me while out hunting for necessities?

He’d remembered a throwaway comment I made about a flower and thought to pick one for me along the way?

I’d have to revise my earlier assessments of him.

Maybe there was a universe in which he would make someone a reliable partner.

Not me, of course. But… would it be such a problem if we us ed each other to let off some steam?

No expectations, no strings attached. That was what he wanted too, wasn’t it?

And we were both adults; we could be mature about it.

He kept talking. “It’s early in the season for them, you know, so most of them hadn’t bloomed yet, but I remembered you had said that rinsom was your favorite flower, and I thought, ‘Well, isn’t that a wonderful coincidence?

’ But obviously, flowers don’t travel well.

I should have pressed it. I wasn’t sure when I would be able to give it to you, and I didn’t want?—”

“It’s lovely,” I interrupted him. “Thank you.”

Lu hesitated, eyeing my outstretched hand with the same look one might bestow upon a beggar child holding its hand out for coin. “I’ll get you a different one,” he said.

“No, I want that one.” I snatched for his arm before he turned away. My blanket slipped down, pooling in my lap. “You got it for me, didn’t you? So hand it over.”

He lingered a moment before giving in to my touch.

The arm underneath my hand eased out of my grip.

His fingers trailed along the bottom of my forearm to my hand, wordlessly directing me to offer my palm.

When I obeyed, the flower at last exchanged hands.

I closed my fingers around the cool stem and brought it to my nose to appreciate the subdued almond scent.

Across from me, the twin orbs of warm light that were Lu’s eyes remained steady.

“Thanks,” I repeated quietly, meeting his stare. We locked eyes for several seconds.

“You’re welcome,” Lu said, finally looking away. I could have sworn I caught a hint of a blush in his coloring, but it could have been the shadows in the hall.

My pack was too far to reach, and there was no windowsill, so I settled for placing the flower on the floor between the wall and my makeshift pillow.

By the time I’d plonked back into place on my mat and pulled my blanket to my chin, Luthri hadn’t moved from his spot.

If it had been anyone else, I would have ignored it in favor of trying to get some sleep, but there was something vulnerable in the curve of his spine and the heaviness of his head.

“Can’t sleep either?” I found myself asking.

He shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “You’ll laugh. I thought it might be inappropriate to smoke around a holy man, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d miss it.”

Well, that’s what happens when you grow reliant on mood-altering drugs. I tamped down the words that sprang to mind. Not the time or place. “Do you need it? Every night?”