Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“So many. Maybe even you will have that someday.”
He slides his gazes to mine sideways with the shake of his head. “You could at least sound like you meant that.” He returns his focus to the canal below, and after a moment, clears his throat. “Why were you on your own? Shouldn’t you be spending this night with someone?”
“They left.”
“Did he?”
He. “How did you know . . .”
“So he abandoned you.”
“It’s not like that. He was summoned by the—by his brother.” I sigh and it clouds into the cool air. “My potential future brother-in-law will be the worst.”
Quin glances at me, one eyebrow lifting.
I laugh. “I’m sure you’d give him a run for his money. Why were you riding the streets alone?”
“I wanted to sneak a look.”
“At the lights?”
“My brother has fallen for someone.”
“Love. Must be in the water.” I throw him a bright smile. “Were they happy? Were they sharing their lights?”
He sighs, feigning grief. “I lost track of him and found you instead.”
“By all means . . .” I gesture to his horse below.
He doesn’t budge. “I’ll have my curiosity sated soon enough. This way you get your thankyou gift. For saving me.”
I nod. “I absolutely love sitting on this icy roof with you. You, too, excel at gift-giving—”
Sharp laughter. Quin curls an arm around my shoulders and pulls me atop his extended cloak, soft and immediately warming under me. He says, “I haven’t given you anything yet.”
My gaze jumps to his. The subtle weight of the gift I’m carrying for him shifts against my thigh.
His eyebrows quirk and he pulls back, admiring another dazzling spray of lovelights below. “Tell me about the exam first. Were you nervous?”
I let out a shuddery breath as I think back on the day; how much has happened. “There were a few questions where I feared, for a moment, I’d let everyone down.”
“It’s by no means an easy examination. I fear they made last-minute amendments to make it especially difficult.”
“Especially?”
“Knowing you’d be taking part.”
“A self-taught commoner with a measly magic root.” I laugh coldly.
“You represent change. That’s what many of them fear most.”
We stare at a couple on a boat, their hair swirling around their heads, tangling as their lovelights whirl around them.
“If you hadn’t taught me how to leech magic so I could wield the pen, I would have failed at the first diagnosis.”
He looks at me blankly. “If you’d failed over a technicality like that, I’d be up in arms, demanding a redo of the whole thing.”
“Nevertheless, it’s thanks to you I passed.”
“Thank yourself. You’re the one who has come up against, and overcome, every possible obstacle.”
My throat aches and I swallow thickly. With a shaky finger, I poke Quin’s arm. “Where’s my gift?”
From an inner pocket of his cloak, Quin draws a rolled piece of fabric. It shimmers blue and silver in the moonlight. The colours of river pearl; the colours that border my soldad.
His fingers slide over my wrist and mine jump. He pauses, fractionally, then tugs my hand toward him. The fabric unfurls, breaking into two fingerless gloves. He slips the soft, thin fabric over my hand, steers the thumb into its neatly sewn slit, and unravels the glove up my wrist. My palms are instantly warmer. My head snaps up. “Mountain pearl-reed?”
He hums, and I curl my fingers tight over the rare fabric. Exceptionally strong, lighter than silk. “This is far too precious.”
“Not more than your hands. These”—he picks up my other hand and my skin tickles as he carefully slips the second glove into place—“will protect your skin from the backlash of spells. They’ll keep you warm in winter and cool in summer.”
His marble face is turned toward the glove he’s carefully adjusting. The whole capital is ice and snow and magical silvery lights, but the foot between us is shimmery turquoise pearl that radiates heat through my whole body. I wriggle my fingers and smile at him.
Abruptly, he lets me go and casts his gaze towards the capital, frowning. “It’s simple gratitude.”
I bump my shoulder against his. “Do you want to see my gratitude?”
“Not if the last time is anything to go by.”
I laugh and feel along my belt, knuckles bumping Nicostratus’s beads. I open the pouch that holds Quin’s gift and draw out the wood.
Quin stares and stills, and I’m hit with a sudden nervous flutter. I hope it’s right this time. Heart jumping, I open my mouth to speak.
Quin murmurs first, “Violet oak.”
“Someone gave it to me.” I slap the gift against his chest and retreat. “There.”
He catches it before it tumbles to his lap and holds it up to the moonlight. “Someone gave you . . .”
“I didn’t steal the wood,” I say, trying to snatch it back.
He moves it away from me. “You carved this yourself?” His voice is deep and curious, and my stomach jumps again.