Page 78 of Frost Like Night
His mouth flutters in that smile he knows disarms me. But I can be just as disarming.
I roll over, burrowing against him, my fingers tracing every line of muscle honed from years of fighting, a few rough scars that knot his skin. “You know, I can’t recall,” I say. “It must not have been very memorable.”
Mather howls and tackles me. I squeal, giving up on trying to stay quiet, and catch his lips with my own, our bodies aligning in a way that makes every touch from last night flash through me at once.
I knot my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull back to look at him. Another laugh spurts out, this one incredulous. “How did this even happen?”
Mather rolls back. “I can tell youexactlyhow it happened.” He squints in a rather overdramatic show of thinking. “About twelve years ago, a five-year-old girl pushed me down in the training yard and stole my sword. That incident was only the beginning—eleven years ago she talked me into painting a tent with ink, six years ago she stole a bottle of wine and got me drunk . . .” He trails off, his eyes drifting down to my smirk, and he beams. “I was too stupid to realize that I willingly sauntered into whatever crazy plan she concocted. It was only a matter of time before she got mehere.”
“Oh, so this was my plan?” I lift up so I’m eye level with him. “You got all the dates wrong, though. The wine stealing was five years ago, and eleven years ago we were five.”
Mather’s brows twitch. “I knew I should have reminded you.”
“Of what?”
“Our birthdays. Well,yoursat the very least—it was a few months ago. You really missed it? You’re seventeen now, Meira. We both are.”
I pause. “Snow above. Weareseventeen.”
Mather laughs. “Afraid so.”
“Alysson and Dendera always warned me to wait until I was older.” I sigh. “So that makes me feel a little better about what happened.”
“Better?” He tucks a hand around my waist, his fingers drawing absurdly distracting patterns on my hip through the blanket. “Why would you feel at all bad?”
His hand stops abruptly as his eyes snap open so wide I see my reflection.
“Ice above,” he curses. “We . . . and I didn’t . . .damn it.” He rocks back, hands over his face.
“What are you talking about?”
He peeks through his fingers, eyes still wide, and his attention drops to my stomach.
My own eyes stretch all the way open. “Oh.Oh.No. I can’t—”
My mouth falls slack.
I can’t . . . have children.
On that thought, Oana’s sadness rises above my hazy delight. The dusty nursery she and Rares kept locked away,waiting for the day it would be used.
I sit up, curling my arms around my knees. And just like that, last night really is over.
Mather slides upright. “You can’t?”
I force a smile. “Being a conduit makes certain things impossible.”
Mather drops a hand around my bent legs. “I’m sorry I—”
“No.” I push back, angling enough to stay in his arms but look into his eyes. “Don’t apologize, for anything. I wanted this.Wantthis.”
He smiles, but his eyes say he’s slowly coming to terms with the night being over too. “You say that like it’ll never happen again.”
I droop against him. But I can’t make myself repeat all the things I said last night, how this won’t last, how it’ll hurt, how in a few days, he’ll be alone.
He shakes his head and tightens his hold on me. “We’ll figure out something, and we’ll both come out of that labyrinth alive, and we’ll have many,manymore nights like this one.” After a breath, he smiles. “Besides, I need time to actually getgoodat it.”
I snort, gripping his arm. I know he sees the tears rimming my eyes—but I cling desperately to his joke. Maybe because I’m weak and can’t bear the thought of . . . everything. Maybe because I’m strong enough to push past what scares me.
