Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"I am not jealous of a human," he sniffs indignantly. "I simply question the wisdom of spending time alone with one who radiates such dangerous heat."
"The heat's not so bad," I reply, feeling my cheeks warm at the admission.
The truth is, I've been thinking about Raith almost constantly since the night outside Voss's office. The concern in his eyes, the roughness in his voice when he said he trusted me, the lingering heat of his fingers on my wrist—all of it repeats in my mind like a song I can't stop humming. And beneath it all runs a current of curiosity about the person he mentioned, this Gareth who mattered so much to him.
I wonder if Gareth is connected to those nightmares that brought him to the top of the academy walls. To the fire that haunts him.
I've seen fleeting glimpses of Raith in the dining hall and during regular training, but except for that moment in tactics class today, he's been surprisingly scarce.
Reaching the training room door, I pause, drawing in a deep breath to steady my racing heart. It's just training, I tell myself. Nothing more.
We've done this dozens of times already, and Raith is always clinical and serious. He's all business, and that's exactly how this session will go, too. And yet my breath still hitches and warmth floods me as I push open the door and step into the familiar empty training room we've used so many times now.
Torches flicker in iron brackets along the walls, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Raith used a trick of his fire affinity to light these, and they seem to burn for days without needing to be lit, even when he's not in the room.
Training equipment lines the edges of the room—wooden dummies, racks of practice weapons, targets for projectile practice.
But I'm the only one in the room.
Disappointment crashes through me like a wave breaking against rocks. Has Raith decided not to come? Or maybe our agreement for this evening wasn't as clear as I thought. I move to the weapons rack, selecting one of the heavier rapiers Raith likes me to train with to improve my strength. I guess I can still work through some forms, even if he doesn't show.
And I can pretend I don't feel a lurching sense of disappointment.
"You're early."
I whirl at the sound of Raith's voice, nearly dropping my rapier. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with casual grace that belies the power in his body. In the torchlight, half of his features lie in shadow, making it hard to read his expression.
"Maybe you're just late," I reply, pleased with how steady my voice sounds despite the sudden swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
He steps into the room, closing the door behind him.
Closing it between us and everyone else, which is exactly how it feels when I'm alone with him—as if it's only us, even when I know Pyrin is likely hidden nearby and I can sense Typhon's presence.
Raith's eyes never leave mine as he crosses to the weapons rack, selecting his preferred training sword. The fire markings that thread through his scars seem more vivid today, the red lines pulsing slightly like the beating of a heart.
"You've been avoiding me," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
This isn't the kind of thing we usually talk about here. I tend to stay quiet and let him lead. I trust him to keep things professional and clinical. But today… Today I'm having trouble holding back.
Raith's brow rises, the unburned side of his mouth curving slightly. "Have I?"
"Two days. Not even a word about when you'd want to train next."
"I didn't realize you were keeping count, Saltcrest." There's something in his voice—a warmth, a hint of amusement—that sends a delicious shiver cascading down my spine. And even if it's a silly nickname, I feel my belly do flips every time he calls me "Saltcrest."
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "Just an observation."
He tests the weight of his training sword, the muscles in his arm shifting beneath tanned skin. "I've been busy. They had the fire affinities working with some of the upper years this week. Patrols and inspections of fortifications."
"Fortifications… walls… actually, yeah, I can see why you would know a lot about those."
Raith turns, one eyebrow cocked. He's giving me a look like he's not quite sure I'm actually saying the words he's hearing. "Meaning?"
"You're good at putting up walls around yourself. I can see why they wanted an expert like you along for inspections."
He walks with a slow, deadly grace through the darkness between torches, sword held low and steady in his hand. Many of the waters in my year like to perform flourishes and practice trying to look like experts. Raith has never bothered with any of that.