Page 46 of Keeper

Cenric’s eyebrows shoot up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, not that I wanted you to kiss me. Or didn’t want you to. I just...appreciate your restraint?”Someone please knock me unconscious.

Cenric stares at me like I’ve sprouted a carrot in the center of my forehead. “You’re welcome.”

He turns and walks away, leaving me alone with my mortification.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

CENRIC

Hades!

What is wrong with me?

Was I really thinking about kissing Everly?

I walk away from her tent, needing to clear my head, to focus on something—anything—other than her.

My feet carry me toward the sparring grounds, where I spot Luc among the warriors, demonstrating a parry.

“Luc,” I call out. “Spar with me.”

He nods, then makes his way over. As he approaches, I draw my sword, the weight of it a comfort I desperately need right now.

“Are you ready to lose?” Luc grins and settles into a fighting stance.

I don’t respond. Instead, I lunge forward, and Lucdeflects easily.

It’s not enough.

With each strike, each dodge, each breath, Everly’s face dances before my vision. The way she looked at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide. The curve of her neck as she bent over the pots by the lake. The sound of her laughter as she talked with Finn.

The thought of him speaking with her, making her smile, sends a surge of something hot and dark through me.

My next blow comes faster, harder. Luc grunts with the effort of blocking it.

“By the gods, Cenric,” he says between quick breaths. “What’s gotten into you?”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Nothing.”

No matter how hard I push myself, I can’t shake the image of Everly from my mind. Her smile, her scent—that mixture of lavender and lemon balm.

Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes, but I blink it away, refusing to let up. Luc’s breathing grows ragged, his movements slower, but I press on.

“Cenric,” Luc gasps, barely deflecting a vicious overhead strike. “We should—”

I cut him off with another assault, driving him back step by step. My muscles burn, screaming for rest, but I ignore the pain.

With a final, brutal swing, I knock Luc’s sword from his grasp, and it clatters to the ground.

“Are you happy now?” he asks as he retrieves his weapon. “You nearly beheaded me.”

I turn and walk away, leaving Luc staring after me.

My feet carry me to the edge of camp, then up the steep hill that borders our eastern flank. I push myself, scrambling over jagged rocks and gnarled tree roots.

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