Page 71 of Thorn Season
He hesitated, his hand twitching against me. He inhaled. Then he took a step back.
I drew a rushing breath, the stab of cool air scattering the steam of my thoughts. Keil’s mouth was none of my business. I would be a prize fool tomakeit my business.
And even more of a fool to lower my defenses for a man who could only ever be my competition.
So, ignoring the skin-prickle of my fading heat, I weighed the knife in my palm. “Should you really be telling me the best ways to hurt you?”
Keil’s smile grew, that little dimple winking in his cheek. “Go ahead.” He spread his arms as if to embrace me. “I suppose you’ve been fantasizing about this from the moment we met.”
I laughed, astonished. “You’re inviting me to stab you?”
“I’m inviting you totry.”
I couldn’t resist the challenge in his voice. So, I lunged, knife aimed at his stomach.
He shot forward so fast I couldn’t register the maneuver. I yelped as the knife twisted from my grasp and clattered at my feet once more.
Keil chuckled at the look on my face, then bent to recover the knife. I had half a mind to kick him in the head.
“So, was there a point to your little lesson?” I crossed my arms. “Or was it an excuse to show me up?”
“Of course not, my lady. That wouldn’t be gentlemanly.”
“A gentleman would’ve let me stab him,” I muttered.
Laughter danced in his eyes. “You’re welcome to try again. I’ll even teach you more moves.” The knife suddenly hovered above his palm, held by the specter I couldn’t see. “Well,” he drawled. “Perhaps not all the moves.”
I startled, astounded both by his public Wielding and that he’d released his specter so near to eurium. Keil didn’t share my concern on either front; his posture was relaxed, his expression lazy with harmless mischief.
Envy burned a sudden hole through me, my specter bristling. I’d been leashing my power more forcefully over the last few days, and yet Keil’s indifference—his casual freedom—threatened to erode my self-control.
I drew a sharp breath through my teeth. Resentfully tightened those internal restraints.
“As much as I’d like to gut you”—I captured the knife, jolting when my fingers skimmed his specter—“I’ll have to decline.”
I rebundled the knife, shoved it into my pocket, and marched away.
Keil’s footsteps clipped behind me. “I can walk you back to the palace.”
“Because I’m incapable of walking there myself?”
“I doubt you’re incapable of anything,” he said, a grin in his voice. “But youdidlook rather distressed when I found you. Does the king know you’re roaming these streets without a guard?”
“The king is not my keeper.”
“Not yet.”
I spun on him. “We’re not at court now, Ambassador. Say what you mean.”
“I merely speak from observation. Your king strikes me as a territorial man. I doubt his bride will be able to wander farther than he allows.”
“He allowsyouto wander freely.”
“He has no desire to keep me close.”
“Because you would exasperate him to death?”
Keil smiled bleakly, then said with a note of warning, “Because kings only lock up treasures.”
