Lord of the Night

Chapter 8: Attraction

In the hallway, Fraschkit scrubbed her eyes. "This is pathetic, isn't it? Why do I always fall for people who will break my heart?"

"You'll find the right person in time," I said, "And it's not pathetic."

Not like falling for a Demon.

I berated myself for the thought. I wasn't falling for him; it was just basic compassion. That was the only reason I didn't want to see him die.

Fraschkit sniffled and forced a smile. "Thanks, Remgar. See you at the entrance in half an hour?"

"See you then."

When I started toward my room, I forced my attention on the task at hand. But as I changed into the full Guardian regalia and packed a small sack of necessities for the night, my mind drifted back to how Isalio had begged me to stay; how his head had fallen onto my lap, so trusting.

If I left without seeing him first, would he spend the whole day and night thinking I had abandoned him? Waiting for torture or death?

Before I could stop myself, I started toward his cell.

I paused before entering Isalio's cell. What if I walked in on him still half-naked, still sponge-bathing with the bucket of water I had left? And the darker recess of my brain asked, 'Or what if he's strung up and mutilated?'

I knocked on the door.

Isalio replied immediately, voice brightened by a barely withheld laugh. "Remgar? Do you need my permission to enter?"

Relief flooded me, drowning out the embarrassment I should have felt. I cracked open the door, sidled through, and dropped my knapsack on the floor. To avoid his eyes, I fixed my gaze on the floor in front of the table. I feared seeing his reaction to what I was about to say. If he looked disappointed or afraid, what would I do?

"I'm leaving." When he didn't immediately respond, I cleared my throat and continued. "They've ordered me to go see my father, so I'll..."

But then I looked up, and what I saw stole my breath.

Isalio's hair was still damp from bathing, and tousled a bit unevenly, softening his sharp facial features. Silky raven locks brushed the collar of the sweatshirt I had given him. The forest green dye brought out his amber eyes like pine trees beneath the setting sun. And First Guardian, the way my clothes fit him...oversized, of course, but in just the right way, with rolled-up sleeves, a waistband tied snug over slim hips, and loose-hanging fabric that somehow looked intentional.

I should never have given him my clothes.

With a rush of shame, I realized I had been staring at him far too long, and I yanked my gaze back up to his face. I was certain I would find him laughing at me, another teasing line already prepared. However, he did not appear to notice my transgression. Instead, he was busy doing a slow scan of my body.

He breathed a whistle. "Sweet dominion, Remgar, that uniform is...do all Guardians look like this?"

I glanced down at my uniform. Aside from a few gold badges decorating my chest, I saw nothing noteworthy about it. The tailored suit coat and matching pants still fit me well, but the navy-blue dye had faded a bit, and the cuffs of the sleeves were fraying.

"We all wear this uniform, yes," I said.

He took a few steps closer and lifted a hand to draw my outline in the air. "But do you all wear it like this?"

The heat in his gaze warmed my skin, both unsettling and enticing me. Several seconds passed before I croaked, "I suppose we each look slightly different."