Page 12 of The Warrior Priest (After the Rift #1)

Again, Rufus and Andreas looked at one another. “You don’t believe that any more than we do,” Andreas said.

Rufus shook Rhys’s arm. “There’s no one else who has the respect of every brother within the order as well as the high priest and king.”

“If you don’t do it, the order will fall apart,” Vizah said, proving he was listening. “Anyway, why wouldn’t you do it? It’s an honor.”

Rhys’s ale arrived. He thanked the serving woman then promptly drank half.

Although Vizah seemed to have asked his question quite innocently, Rufus and Andreas appeared to be waiting for Rhys to comment.

Indeed, from the way they stared at him it was as if they were willing him to give a reason why he didn’t want to become the master.

They knew he’d reluctantly taken on the role of second-in-command, so they must suspect he had no interest in becoming the master one day.

Perhaps they suspected he was considering leaving the order for Giselle.

Rhys remained silent, and eventually Rufus and Andreas gave up.

They stood and announced they were departing.

Vizah left, but only to join the dice game.

I should have left, too. The silence between Rhys and I threatened to become smothering and I didn’t want it to douse the bright flame that was our friendship, even for a moment.

We’d always been able to talk easily, or simply to sit comfortably in one another’s company without awkwardness.

Giselle’s return had changed everything.

She sat with her friends, but I was very aware of the glances she cast our way from time to time. She wore men’s clothing, but I doubted she had to shorten the pants like I did. They made her legs look shapely whereas mine looked like sticks.

“Why are you drunk?” I suddenly asked him.

He released his tankard. “I’m not.”

“Is something troubling you?”

“I’m not troubled because I’m not drunk. I mean, I’m not drunk because I’m not troubled.” He rubbed his forehead.

I shifted my chair closer. Our knees touched under the table. We both jerked away. “Talk to me, Rhys. You’ve always been able to discuss everything with me.”

“Not everything.” He sighed, then added, “He’s not going to die soon, Jac. Master Tomaj. He can do a hundred one-armed push-ups in the time it takes to sing the order’s hymn.”

Not only was he definitely drunk, but his unprovoked denial meant he was worried about Master Tomaj. And that must make him concerned about his own future in the order, and whether leaving was a good idea.

He suddenly grinned. “I can beat him. I do one hundred and fourteen. Want to see?”

I smiled, too, relieved to see he was back to being the carefree Rhys I loved. His dimples were two of my favorite things.

He got up, pushing his chair back so hard that it fell. He went to stop it but stumbled, only to right himself before falling completely. “I’m fine,” he called out. “I think I should go home. Jac, help me. You can be my crotch.”

“I think you mean crutch.”

He tried to click his fingers but couldn’t manage it. “I knew it wasn’t crotch.” He threw an arm around my shoulders and leaned a little of his weight on me. “Where’s my sword?”

“Where it always is, in its scabbard at your left hip.” Merdu and Hailia, he’d become very drunk very quickly.

“Need help, Jac?” Vizah asked.

“He’s fine,” Rhys answered before I could. He ruffled my hair. “He’s a good lad. Come on, Jac. I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll take you home,” I said, circling my arm around his waist and steering him toward the door.

“He looks too heavy for you,” one of the serving women said as we passed her. “Take him to my room.” She winked. “You can stay, too, if you like.”

I felt Rhys tense. “Absolutely not . Jac is?—”

“Too young,” I said before he could say something that might expose my disguise. “Come on, you big oaf. Let’s go before anyone else propositions you.” I glanced at Giselle as we passed her table.

She was even more alluring up close. Her long, fine fingers lightly stroked her tankard. The languid, mesmerizing movement was in contrast to the humor shining in her dark eyes as she watched us.

No, not us. Me. She watched me .

She rose to her feet and picked up the black hat she’d placed on the table. She approached me, her painted red lips curved with her smile. It was a nice smile, and I found myself smiling back.

She leaned down. The scent of orange blossoms enveloped me as she whispered in my ear. “Never trust a man who denies his natural urges. He’ll break your heart.” She slipped away through the crowd of patrons near the door before I’d had a chance to respond.

I stared in the direction she’d gone. Did she see through my disguise and know I was a woman? Could she tell I had feelings for Rhys? Was she jealous?

“What did she say?” Rhys growled, proving he wasn’t so drunk that he hadn’t noticed his beautiful lover. Or was she his former lover?

“Nothing.”

We followed Giselle out of the tavern, but there was no sign of her. Not even the faint scent of orange blossoms lingered in the air.

“She’s very beautiful,” I said. “Mysterious, too, and brave. It’s no wonder you love her.”

For a moment, I thought I’d overstepped, perhaps offended him by alluding to his broken vow. Instead, he laughed. “Hailia and Merdu…you’re jealous, Jac.”

I went to pull away from him but the arm around my shoulder tightened. “I, uh…”

“You are. You’re jealous of Giselle . Now I understand.”

“Understand what?” I felt his gaze on me and dared a sideways glance at him.

He was watching me. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “You thought I was doing it for her. I wasn’t, Jac. I wasn’t going to leave the order for her. That was for you.”

The ground beneath me seemed to shift violently.

I replayed the previous night’s conversation with Rhys in my head. By the end, I needed his support as much as he needed mine. I’d been so consumed by jealousy of Giselle, that I’d not listened properly. He hadn’t said he was leaving the order for her. Not once.

He was tempted to leave the order for me , to protect me from my uncle by marrying me. I’d dismissed his idea without quite realizing what his idea was. Indeed, I’d shot it down rather spectacularly. He’d been upset by my dismissal, and now I knew why. He had feelings for me.

How deep did those feelings go?

I steered him around the corner, my steps slow as I reluctantly directed him to the temple of Merdu’s Guards. It was also the same direction as his secret room. The temptation to go there instead made my breath quicken.

“Don’t be jealous of her,” Rhys murmured.

I stopped suddenly and forced myself to laugh to cover my embarrassment.

Light from the torch in the recessed doorway of a cobbler’s shop gave his gaze an intensity as he studied my features.

Slowly, slowly, his lips curved, turning his smile from playful to wicked.

My heart responded with a resounding thud, echoed by the blood in my veins. Was it a warning? Or a declaration?

Rhys’s hands rested on my shoulders, comfortingly heavy.

I only came up to the middle of his chest, but I didn’t feel overwhelmed or dominated.

I felt cherished. The pads of his thumbs skimmed the underside of my jaw.

He didn’t wear gloves—perhaps he’d left them in the tavern—but his skin was nevertheless warm, his touch achingly soft.

I felt reckless. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to take his face in my hands and draw him down to me or push him into the shadows and do more than kiss.

But I did not. I liked to think I resisted because I was trying to do the right thing, to not force him to make a decision that went against his sworn oath, but I wasn’t that selfless.

The reason I didn’t act on my feelings was because I didn’t want to lose him altogether.

A single kiss would put our friendship in jeopardy.

It would be one rash, wild moment we might not recover from.

I only wanted him if I could have him to myself.

I didn’t want to share him with the order—I didn’t believe he wanted to leave, just that he felt obliged to do so, to protect me from my uncle through marriage.

Despite every part of me craving him, I managed to not succumb to my baser instincts. I stepped away.

Rhys wasn’t as clearheaded. He closed the gap between us and kissed me.