CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURIn Which the Girl Must Wrestle with (Her Own) Skittish Feelings
Risa decided that to ensure her curse didn’t find a way to totally upend their plans of storming the Madrosian capital and restoring Amina to the throne, she would walk away. From Amina, from Javi. For real this time. Even if it killed her, she would find a way to ignore the pull around her heart and leave.
She started practicing at dinner, breathing slowly through her nose while Javi regaled his great-aunt with stories of the road (“I thought I was supposed to be the knight in shining armor, but it turns out I was more a damsel in distress that first night in the forest,” he said). For dessert in the parlor, she planted herself before the fire, Brunie curled in her lap, while Javi held court with his aunt and Amina on the other side of the room, where he lamented not having flan from the palace. When Risa was finally whisked away to her bedchamber by one of the well-dressed palace porters, she felt readyto survive the next few hours without him and hoped it was enough for a future spent missing him.
There was not going to be a happily ever after for her. It was the cost of being a Bad Thing. She would spend the rest of her days nursing a wound that refused to heal, breathing around the pain and praying she could survive it. She’d done it before. With Barrow, pretending she didn’t miss the sound of rain hitting metal roofs, the familiar patter that accompanied her all her life. With her parents, holding them at arm’s length, building up the walls that would keep them safe from her curse. Javi would simply be one more part of her she’d have to live without. She could do it again.
Javi had been placed in another wing of the Flying Palace because he was family, while she and Amina were relegated to the guest wing. It was vital that tonight she find a way to breathe without him. It would be the first of many nights. Of many days, and weeks, and years, when she would have to learn to be truly alone.
It was already easier. There was that familiar pull urging her to seek him out, and an unfamiliar emptiness she attributed to being beyond arm’s reach from him. But she didn’t feel that same unfathomable pain she had earlier that day, climbing the stairs of the Flying Palace.
She was settled in for the night, the hum of the bedside lamp a comfortable drone that reminded her of Barrow. She surveyed her hollow kingdom from the ornate bed of mahogany, with curtains draped between the four posts in fabric that matched the rug and window shades. Brunie was already curled up at the foot of the bed, wizened whiskers twitching from a dream.
Before she could condemn herself to the long night, there was a knock at her door.
The person on the other side did not wait for her to answer. Javi slipped through, his wild curls out of control, his face drawn tight. He stopped short at the sight of her in bed, the tension in his jaw turning to surprise.
“Oh!” It was strange, after a day of him refusing to meet her eyes, to have them focus on her so intently under the glow of her buzzing lamp. “You’re not asleep.”
Risa was vaguely aware that this was improper. She was dressed in more borrowed clothing: a white chemise and a luxurious robe several sizes too big left with the sheepskin-lined slippers at the edge of the bed. Javi looked far more scandalous in his unbuttoned undershirt and trousers that cut off below his knees, exposing the slick dark skin of his calves and the soft hair he grew there.
Now that she looked at him, he appearedflustered. As if he’d been midway through undressing and thought it was the best time to annoy her further into an early grave.
Though that might not be what finally drove her to her death. Brunhilda’s spell was wreaking havoc on her body. Her heart pounded away, threatening to beat right out of her chest. Something inside her insisted she abandon all reasonable thought and leap into his arms.
What was she supposed to do in his arms?
“I’m trying to be,” she said, willing her heart to stop being ridiculous.
He swallowed, cast his eyes downward, and marched farther into the room. When he reached the foot of the bed, where Brunie had yet to stir, he paused. Took a steadying breath, as if steeling himself for something. As if he needed the extra time to prepare.
“I have a proposition.”
“No.”
Whatever it was would ruin the plans she’d just determined necessary. Javi always found a way to upend her life, and they’d only been on this forced misadventure for less than a week.
Javi struggled with her answer, blowing at a lock of hair that was hanging precariously over his eye. “Hear me out.”
“The answer will still be no.”
He took a seat at the corner of the bed farthest from her. Licked his lips. Didn’t even make a comment or wink or acknowledge the way her eyes followed the movement, transfixed by the brief sight of his pink tongue. Mostly because he still refused to look at her.
It was like he was—
“Please.”
Nervous.
The sudden realization made her nervous, too. Sweat began to line the underside of her arms. In an effort to distract herself, she made a whole show of crossing them with dramatic flair.
Javi took it as a sign that he was allowed to continue.
“After we help Amina restore her throne, I’ll be free of my betrothal,” he started slowly, his gaze focused on the embroidered coverlet she pulled over her lap. “And that means I could probably do whatever I want.”
She had no idea where he was going with this. Frankly, she’d been lost from the moment he stepped through the door, but she was particularly baffled now.
“You already do whatever you want.”