Page 194 of Of Kings and Kaos
“I’m not sure how this will taste,” I admitted as I moved a kettle over the low-burning fire. “My father preferred coffee, but I never acquired the taste for it.”
“So why start now?” Torin asked as he settled into the corner of the couch. Cotton jumped from his perch to land lightly on Torin’s lap, purring as he kneaded Torin’s leg in a desperate bid for more attention.
I rolled my eyes at his antics and shrugged my shoulders. “Why not? We both could use the excuse for company right now.”
Torin hummed, and I set to boiling the water and rummaged around for two clean-enough mugs. Silence hung between us as I worked, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eventually, the kettlewhistled and I dumped a scoop of coffee grounds into each cup before filling it with the hot water.
“Here you go.” I offered Torin a steaming mug before sinking into the opposite end of the couch. He blew across the top of it, the steam fanning around his face with the motion, before taking a small sip.
“Holy shit,” he coughed, his face red from the effort and nose scrunched.
“What? Is it too hot? I just poured the water—I thought you were smarter than that!” I exclaimed before setting my mug down on the floor to find him some water.
“Uh, it’s not the heat, Fay.” He coughed again before making ableghnoise in the back of his throat. Torin took the proffered canteen of water before chugging nearly the whole thing.
“Did you filter the grounds at all?” he asked, wiping tears away from the corner of his eyes.
I frowned at him. “Filter?”
Torin chuckled at my bemused expression and ran a hand down his face.
“You’re supposed to filter it so that the liquid portion stays separate from the grounds. You’re not actually supposed to consume those,” he laughed.
“Oh.” I felt embarrassment rising in my cheeks before forcing it down. “Maybe that’s why my coffee always tasted . . . different.”
Torin laughed again—it was a nice sound, free of worries and full of humor. “Hmm, I’d say that’s probably why.”
I chuckled lightly with him before dumping both of our cups in the fire and stacking them on the table near the door.
I really need to clean this place.
“So why do you have so many books in here? Isn’t there a library in the Academy?”
I nodded. “Yes, but something about it sets me on edge—like there’s always someone watching from the shadows that I can’t see.”
“That sounds ominous and terrifying,” Torin admitted dryly, and I nodded my head in agreement.
“Yes. I much prefer the chaos and solitude of my room over whatever is happening there.” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the Academy.
“What are you researching?” he asked, but at my hesitation, he held his hands up. “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just interested.”
I bit my lip, debating how much to actually tell him. There was an openness in his expression that I trusted, and I had a vague sense that I’d seen him before. Narrowing my eyes, I studied his face.
“I’ve seen you before,” I hedged, avoiding the question about my research entirely.
Torin grimaced slightly before dropping his hands to his lap and blowing out a breath.
“Yes, you have.” His response was curt and laced with exhaustion, and I cocked my head in interest.
“How?”
“You don’t remember?”
I sucked at my teeth as I reluctantly shook my head.
Torin sighed. “You should read that letter”—he nodded to Sharol’s letter tucked into my belt—“then I’ll tell you everything.”
“How do you know about my letter?” Instantly my hackles raised, and Torin put his hands up in a placating gesture again.
