Page 59 of Realm of Thieves

Or that I’m getting stronger.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice thick with sleep and near my ear, causing an internal shiver to roll through me.

“Good morning,” I manage to say. My mouth is so dry, the air even more so. I’ve gotten so used to being in the fresh, moisture-rich air of Norland that every part of me feels parched. Doesn’t help that we’ve been sandblasted for hours.

I move my head slightly, looking up to see him staring down at me, his thick hair in a mess, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth curved in a small, amused smile.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted him more.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “How is the pain?”

He’s trying to sound easy but I catch the look in his eyes, the one that says my answer could change the world for him.

Luckily, I only have to tell him the truth. “I have no pain.”

His face lights up as if shooting stars were passing overhead, a wide, breathtaking smile stretching across his handsome face, and my own heart leaps in response. “Are you sure?” he asks.

I nod and even though I don’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of his body, I shift over slightly and sit up. “I’m a bit numb from sleeping like this all night, but no, there’s no pain. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I felt so energized. Especially in the morning. You know I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s hard to tell if that’s you naturally or just part of staying at Stormglen,” he says softly, sitting up and moving so that he’s beside me. “Being with the Kolbecks has rubbed off on you.”

There’s only one Kolbeck I want rubbing off on me, I think.

“And how’s your face?” I ask, peering at the ragged cuts over his cheekbones. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and gingerly touch his cheek beside the wounds.

His eyes flutter closed for a second as he leans into my touch, and I have the strangest sensation of my chest being bound with thread and that he’s slowly unraveling it, maybe the first person to ever do so.

“I’ll live,” he says, meeting my eyes with such intensity that it makes my breath hitch.

The implications are subtly terrifying.

I drop my hand and look away before I make things too awkward. “Too bad your healing hands don’t work on yourself,” I tell him.

“As long as they work on you,” he says, getting to his feet. He reaches down and pulls me up beside him. He’s close, our chests nearly pressed against each other, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He’s still holding on to my arms, keeping me in place. My belly warms with the flutter of butterfly wings, wanting him closer still.

God, what is happening?

“I never got a chance to thank you for saving me yesterday,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You could have left me under the blooddrages but you didn’t. I owe you.”

“You did just heal me,” I point out softly, but his words are bringing forth a shadow, the one that’s been lingering over me all this time.

“That’s not enough,” he says. “Your pain might come back. I might have just healed you for now.” He swallows hard and lets go of my arm, putting his hand at the back of my head.

Suddenly I can’t breathe. Wind from outside the cave whips its way inside, hot and sulfurous, making our hair dance.

I know what I can ask him.

How he can repay me.

Days ago I wouldn’t have hesitated.

But now, now I’m too scared to say it.

Because I no longer know if that’s what I want.

“I can let you go,” he says, gravity in his voice and gaze. “I can take you to the Dark City and leave you there.”

His answer feels like a rug being pulled out from under me.

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