Page 19 of Daughter of the Ninth Line: Part Two

Along the wall that faced back to the vast openness of the sea was my telescope. My one little vice. My father thought it made me a dreamer, looking for answers out among the stars, but my mother—for the first and only time in her life—had argued that it was an educated field of study that would be well respected by the other Lines.

You know, because I was the spare Heir. The one they didn’t really need, unless my brother got himself stabbed by the husband of one of the many married women he debauched.

Finally, Avalon looked at the soft couch in the middle of the room and moved toward it, a confidence in the sway of her hips that hadn’t been there before, though I could still see the wariness in her face. She paused, looking around her once more. “This is weird. I should go,” she said quietly.

“I swear, my intentions are honorable.” And they had been, until I’d seen her in that dress. Now, I just wanted to peel it off her and taste every inch of milky skin that was glowing warmly in the soft lights dotted around my room.

This had started out as a point of interest, and maybe Taeme had turned it into a competition, but something about Avalon Halhed was dangerous. My interest in her was walking a knife’s edge between curiosity and obsession.

She looked away, and I could’ve sworn I heard her mutter, “Maybe mine are not.”

My mind had wandered so far that it took me a moment to realize she meant her intentions. I must have misheard, but her cheeks were pink, though even that might have been a trick of the light.

“Would you like a drink? To calm whatever thoughts are obviously racing through your mind right now.”

She rolled her eyes, but eventually nodded. I went to the small tray of liquor that I kept off to the side of the room, pouring us both a small glass. It was strong, especially if you weren’t used to it.

She took a small sip, and her eyes went comically wide. “Holy Goddess, are you sure you aren’t trying to get me drunk, so you can take advantage of me?”

I almost laughed. “No, Miss Halhed. When I take you to bed, it will be because you’re on your knees, begging me to pleaseyou. Not because you’re three cups deep in the honey wine the Seventh Line makes down in their dorm room.”

There was no doubting the pink cheeks this time. Grabbing the ice cream from the small cabinet I kept frozen, I transferred it to a bowl that wouldn’t give her frostbite and stuck a spoon in it. “This might be so I can get you into bed, though.”

“It’s brown.” She frowned at the bowl, like I’d just handed her spoiled food.

“It’s chocolate flavored, and now for my next trick,” I muttered, as I grabbed a small chocolate from the pile on the side table and hovered it over the bowl of ice cream. Drawing warm air from around the fireplace, I gently melted the chocolate until it poured over the ice cream.

Avalon Halhed looked at me, then the ice cream that was now covered in melted chocolate, then back at me. Her amazement was like a balm on my soul.

She handed me the bowl back and stood. I frowned. Had I read her wrong? She’d seemed to enjoy ice cream when it was served the other day, and I often saw her pocketing little pieces of foil-wrapped chocolate left out as a treat for the conscripts.

“Do you not like it?”

Shaking her head, she stared down at me, her eyes sparkling in the soft lights. “I’m taking off my clothes. If you were trying to get under my skirts, ice cream coated in chocolate is a surefire way to do it. Congratulations.”

I looked up at her, shocked, and she burst out laughing, sitting back beside me and taking the bowl back, shoveling a mouthful past her lips and sighing happily.

“Goddess, I don’t think anything else in all of Ebrus could taste this good.” She smiled, and there was a smear of chocolate on her lip. “You should see your face right now. You look like the Heir to the Fish Kingdom or something.”

I snapped my jaw closed as I realized she was teasing me. Me, of all people. And instead of irritating me, I found it was refreshing. Fuck me, they mustn’t have taught her any etiquette up there in the wilds of the Ninth Line, but I was enjoying it. I gave her a mock-annoyed look, which made her giggle into her bowl a little more, before she single-mindedly devoured the dessert with soft little moans I wasn’t sure she even knew she was making.

She didn’t eat it demurely, or make polite conversation, though she thanked me at least twice. “Would you like some?” she asked softly, and I couldn’t tell if she was hoping I’d say yes or no. I couldn’t resist the urge to share something she enjoyed so much, though.

“Yes.”

Instead of handing me the bowl and the spoon, she scooped up the perfect mouthful and held it out to me, like I was a child she had to feed. I found myself leaning forward, snagging her eyes as I did, wrapping my lips around the spoon. It was delicious, but I wanted to taste it from her tongue.

I pushed down the thought. For now, at least. “Very nice. The cooks did an excellent job.”

She finished off the bowl and leaned back with a sigh. “I didn’t realize it came in flavors. I thought it was just cream that had been frozen into ice. Like the name suggests.”

I licked my lips and pushed down the urge to get ice cream made in every flavor imaginable, just so I could watch her joyful wonder.

Someone would definitely report that to my parents.

“There are no limitations to the flavorings, though some would be terrible. I imagine a meat-flavored ice cream would be fairly unpleasant,” I informed her.

She grinned. “I bet the Third Line would love it, though.”

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