“ Story-telling is what a man is supposed to do when he has a woman in his arms?” Sicarius’s eyes glinted.
Heat scorched her cheeks. “Well, I… Uhm.”
Sicarius laid a hand on the side of her face, being careful not to touch any of her bruises. “You have enough horrors of your own in your head now. You don’t need to add mine.”
Amaranthe swallowed. “I was surprised that, after what you endured, you didn’t make Pike suffer more in the end.” She knew it was little of her, but she couldn’t help but feel that a “master interrogator” not only deserved death, but a painful one at that.
“After seeing what he did to you… it did occur to me to prolong his death.”
“And?”
“I did not think you would approve.”
“Oh.” Amaranthe didn’t know what else to say. Somehow he thought her a better person than she was. “I wouldn’t have begrudged you some degree of… comeuppance to avenge your past.”
“Actions taken in the present cannot change those received in the past. Hollowcrest was the master smith, forging my destiny. Pike was merely one of the many tools he employed.”
Amaranthe dropped her chin. It seemed strange that an assassin was giving her a morality lesson, but there it was. No, not morality-that had never been a concern for Sicarius-but practicality. A lesson in practicality and moving on with one’s life. She hoped she’d be able to put Pike behind her as effectively.
“Was anyone kind to you as a boy?” Amaranthe asked.
“That was not encouraged.” Sicarius used his hand to lift her chin again. He brushed his fingers across the skin of her forehead, as if to remove the furrow of disapproval there. “Not everyone was like Pike. Tutors came and went, so I wouldn’t form attachments, but most were tolerable.”
Tolerable. What an accolade.
Heaviness weighed upon Amaranthe’s eyelids, and keeping them open was a struggle. But she found herself reluctant to sleep, to miss the moment, the fact that Sicarius was stroking her face and, for once, answering her questions. What if his reserve returned in the morning?
“Amaranthe?” Sicarius asked softly.
She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them. Sicarius had lowered his hand, though he was still watching her.
“Yes?”
“I must speak to you of one more matter.”
“Oh?”
A twinge of concern ran through her body. Such a preamble could only signal bad news. Indeed, wariness had entered Sicarius’s eyes. “It is in regard to Sespian. And you.”
Amaranthe sat up, a jolt running through her body. Meddling ancestors, he wasn’t going to offer to step aside or some other nonsense, was he? She remembered that he’d seen them together on the dirigible, that brief second when she’d grabbed Sespian’s hand. He must think… Emperor’s warts, who ever knew what he thought? Now that he was finally showing her warmth and affection, she’d be burned at a funeral pyre before letting him disappear over some misunderstanding.
Amaranthe planted her hand on Sicarius’s chest, fingers splayed. “If this is about the dirigible, I wasn’t holding his hand out of any romantic notion. He’d brought up the fact that he might have a shortened lifespan because of that drug, and I was expressing sympathy, the same way I would if Books or Maldynado had that problem. Let’s be clear on the situation here. He’s a sweet kid, but nothing would happen between us even if you weren’t around.” Amaranthe, realizing she’d been rattling words off quickly, forced herself to slow down and take a deep breath before finishing. “I love you, Sicarius.” Odd how saying things like that to him made her feel more vulnerable than lying naked beneath Pike’s knife had. “You’re stuck with me,” she added doggedly.
“I had already decided that while I was coming to find you.”
Amaranthe watched him through her lashes, wary but hopeful as well. “That… you’re stuck with me?”
Sicarius’s eyes were half-lidded as he gazed back at her. “That I was unwilling to let someone else have you.”
The blunt statement sent a little shiver through her. The words, “It’s about time,” floated through the back of her mind, but the intensity of Sicarius’s eyes squashed any inklings of flippancy. “All right,” she whispered.
“When you have recovered, and you are ready, come to me. I’ll be waiting.”
Amaranthe didn’t move a muscle, but her heart was beating against her ribs so hard Sicarius must’ve felt it. She wasn’t sure if he’d made a request or issued an order, and she didn’t care. She was suddenly hyper aware of his body next to hers, the honed steel of his torso, the fact that she was almost in his lap. Her body had to be crazy to respond this way, after all it had endured. She doubted Sicarius would accept an entreaty then, even if she made one, but it was with the squeaky hoarseness of a titillated teenager that she uttered another, “All right.”
Sicarius brushed the backs of his fingers along her jaw, and his gaze drifted to her lips. Amaranthe held her breath. A kiss? Was that what he had in mind? A little promise that there’d be more later? Yes, after the pain of the last week, it’d be nice to experience something pleasant. More than pleasant, she thought, cheeks flushing anew at the memory of the single kiss they’d shared in the Imperial Gardens that summer. She parted her lips, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes.
“You should sleep,” Sicarius said abruptly.
“Huh?”
He removed his arm and slid away from her, leaving Amaranthe alone on the hard, poky boughs. He tossed a few branches onto the fire. “I will stand watch.”
Before she could object, he disappeared through the cave opening.
“ Sleep?” Amaranthe said, not caring if he overheard. Though she might have been weary a few minutes ago, sleep was the last thing on her mind now. She swatted at one of the roots dangling from the ceiling. “How am I supposed to sleep when you took my pillow? Impossible man.”
Only the drone of cicadas answered her. Amaranthe flopped onto her back on the boughs.
At least he’d offered something more definite than the “later” on the dirigible. Once she’d healed and they’d finished the mission-or at least made sure the others were safe-she’d pounce on him. And she’d make sure she kept him too busy to think of fleeing the cave. No, not a cave, she decided. The baths perhaps. A private bath overflowing with bubbles. Or maybe the training ring after a particularly sweat-inspiring workout, one that encouraged the removal of shirts. Yes, she liked that idea.
When Amaranthe finally dozed off, she slept well, the nightmares of the previous nights replaced by more pleasant, if rather erotic, scenarios.
Chapter 15
Brynia tried to seduce Maldynado three more times on the way to the wheelhouse. Had it not been for his current interest in Yara, he might have propelled the woman into a closet and given her what she was asking for. She was a beauty after all. But what she was asking for probably involved distracting him long enough to yank out his knife and stick it in his belly.
Raindrops splashed onto the damp deck and pattered onto Maldynado’s reclaimed hat. Though he should have appreciated the warmer climate, Maldynado found himself homesick for his haunts back in Stumps. He wondered if the first snow had fallen yet and if Yara would find it romantic to stroll along the canal on Third Avenue, listening to music flowing from the numerous waterfront hotels, dance halls, and drinking houses.
“You don’t really want to take me to see that boy, do you?” Brynia purred.
Maldynado chastised himself for letting his mind wander. The woman might have wriggled free and escaped again right there. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re hesitating.”
“I was thinking.” Maldynado pushed her toward the stairs leading to the rooftop and the wheelhouse.
“I was given to understand that you didn’t do that much.”
“Good.” He hoped she’d been flummoxed when he hadn’t walked into her trap. “Why’d you kill my sister-in-
