“I’m not afraid.”
The lie was so obvious that Torell burst out laughing.
“No, you’re terrified,” he said around his mirth. He nudged her shoulder, before gently asking, “What’s the worst that could happen? He’ll hate you even more?”
Kiva bit her lip and glanced toward where Jaren had disappeared earlier, striding through the fading twilight down to the watering hole. For one mad second, she considered going after him, but then her courage fled and she swiftly turned the interrogation around on her brother. “Forget about Jaren. What’s going on with you and Ashlyn?”
Torell started. “What do you mean?”
This time it was Kiva who snorted. “Don’t play dumb. Even Caldon has noticed.” As an aside, she added, “He’s quite put out, you know.”
Tor’s forehead bunched. “I didn’t realize he was so protective of her.”
Kiva rolled her eyes. “I think he’s more upset that she’s managed to steal your attention, rather than him.”
“Rather than . . .” Torell blinked. “Oh.” He scratched his jaw, embarrassed. “I always wondered why I kept turning around to find him staring longingly at me. I was beginning to think I was imagining it.”
Kiva choked. “You — You didn’t know?” She chortled. “But he’s so obvious.”
Torell fed more sticks into the fire, his cheeks flushing. “I thought he and Cresta —”
“He wishes,” Cresta said, appearing out of nowhere and making Kiva jump. She sat opposite them and unsheathed her sword — gifted by Eidran — along with a whetstone, and began sharpening the blade.
Despite the glimmer of humor in Cresta’s features, Kiva also noticed the anticipation there. She shook her head, failing to understand the cat-and-mouse game her two friends were playing.
She still hadn’t figured out who was the cat and who was the mouse.
Turning back to her brother, Kiva said, “If you’d realized about Caldon sooner, would you have . . . returned his affections?” She stumbled over the words, feeling strange having this conversation after so many years apart. “And what about Rhessinda? I assumed you two were . . . you know . . .” She trailed off, uncomfortable now.
An amused sound left Torell. “Rhess and me? No. Definitely no. She’s like a sister.” He shuddered comically. “I mean, I love her, and I’d do anything for her, and I know that’s reciprocated. But there’s nothing romantic there. And besides,” he added, “she doesn’t feel that way about men. Or women. She loves fiercely, and the people she cares about mean everything to her, but she’s the first to say she’d rather have chocabuns warm her bed than another person.” He smiled in memory. “That’s a direct quote, straight from her lips.”
Kiva was amazed by how wrong she’d been about the two of them.
. . . Though she couldn’t fault Rhess for her taste in pastries.
“And Caldon?” Kiva pressed.
This time, Torell took longer to respond, peering thoughtfully into the fire before he said, “I’ll admit, I’m flattered. Cal is — well, he’s obviously nice to look at, and once you get past the arrogance, I can see why you care so much about him. But there’s no spark there, at least not for me. Attraction has to be more than skin-deep.”
Kiva mulled over his response, unsurprised given what she’d seen of their interactions. “So, back to my question about Ashlyn . . . ?”
Torell’s gaze became unfocused, a rare, goofy smile touching his lips. “She’s special.”
“Ugh, gag,” Cresta muttered, pressing harder on her whetstone, as if hoping the sound would drown out what she was hearing.
“No one asked you to join us,” Kiva told her.
“I’m here for the food,” Cresta said. “I didn’t think I’d have to endure whatever this is.”
“You’re just jealous that Tor’s not afraid to admit to his feelings,” Kiva said. “Unlike whatever the hell you and Caldon are doing.”
“There’s no fun in that,” Cresta returned, grinning. “Tor’s choice leads to long, sunset walks and chaste cheek-kisses. Mine leads to pent-up frustration and hot, steamy —”
“Gods, do not finish that sentence,” Ashlyn groaned, appearing out of the darkness with Caldon at her side. He was chuckling and sent a wink toward Cresta, which she dutifully ignored, continuing to play their game.
Torell had stiffened beside Kiva, clearly anxious about how much the Vallentis siblings had heard. But when Ashlyn sat next to him and asked about one of the rebel attacks he’d secretly sabotaged, he relaxed again, answering her questions without hesitation.
Kiva marveled at them: two generals from opposing bloodlines who had managed to set aside their differences and develop feelings for each other. Because it wasn’t just Torell who was emotionally invested — the way Ashlyn was looking at him made it seem like he was the only person in the world. Or at least, in her world.
“I hate them,” Caldon muttered as he dropped down on Kiva’s free side.
She didn’t even try to hide her smile. “You do not.”
He sighed. “Fine. I don’t. But do they have to be so mushy about it?”
“There’s a good ten inches of space between them,” Kiva said dryly, leaning forward to check the stew. “And they’re discussing fighting strategies. I’d hardly consider that mushy.”
“You forget, my sister has wind magic,” Caldon retorted. “All it would take is a flick of her hand and — whoosh — off come his clothes. You think I want to witness that? No, thank you.” He cocked his head and amended, “Well, actually, I do, but only if —”
“We can hear you, asshole,” Ashlyn said, turning to scowl at him.
Cresta choked on a laugh, and Kiva was tempted to join her, if not for the unpleasant image Caldon had just inserted into her mind.
“Please don’t say something like that to me again,” Kiva begged.
“Or to anyone,” Ashlyn stated, still frowning at him. Her face then cleared, a mischievous look coming over her as she added, “But since you’re so curious, my magic doesn’t quite work like that. Clothes are tricky, with all those buckles and belts. I much prefer to use my hands so I can touch —”
“La-la-la,” Caldon interrupted, plugging his ears immaturely. “Not thinking about my sister and —”
“What in the everworld is going on over here?” Naari asked, joining them, with Eidran following close behind.
With a devilish grin toward Caldon, Cresta said, “We were just discussing the preferred method of —”
“Using magic,” Caldon interrupted firmly. “But now Kiva is going to tell us if the food is ready, and we’re going to eat. In silence.”
Kiva patted his knee, biting back a laugh at his uncharacteristic show of discomfort. “The stew’s done,” she confirmed, standing. “I’ll go tell the others.”
As she walked away, she could have sworn she heard Caldon pleading, “Don’t leave me with these reprobates,” which only made her snicker into the darkness.