Page 89 of Autumn Queens & Shadows

“You never talked small before.”

Shrugging again, I pulled his bowl before me and started eating his barely touched custard.

He leaned forward, giving me an odd look like he was about to offer me a brilliant deal I wouldn't be able to resist. Frankly, it worked a little until he said, “Thora, sweetheart—”

I rolled my eyes. “You whore.”

His laughter filled every little spot in the massive kitchens. Every pot and pan echoed the sound until I felt my cheeks and ears turn red. I’d made him laugh a dozen times before, but this one sounded a bit different. Like he’d given up holding it back. His reactions to me had always been half of what he usually gave others. More toned down. More held back. Tamed.

Not this one though.

“I should be the one blushing, not you,” he said, dragging his bowl back before him and stealing my spoon to eat what was left in there. The stretch of silence grew and grew. None of us would look at the other either. “When did we run out of things to say?”

“We haven’t. You chose to be alone, and I was forced to be alone. I adapted. You haven’t, it seems.”

“Thora—”

“You forced me to stay in this world only for you to leave me alone in it. I wasn’t even ready.”

“You would have never been ready if I had stayed.”

That choking feeling wrapped its hand around my throat and stung my eyes until they prickled with tears. “You think I am now? Truth is I will never be. You just made it a little easier, a little better, a little less alone, a little less haunting. You told me it would be alright, that I would be alright, and when it wasn’t, you gave up on me. I needed you.”

“Thora—”

“You were my friend. You knew things no one knew. You knew how much I needed you.” My voice was small when I added, “I think you needed me a little, too.”

“You didn’t need me, Rora.”

Why did I love when he called me that stupid nickname so much? “I wanted you. How about that?” I asked, scraping the bowl and angrily licking the spoon to distract myself from the way my heart was attempting to see if it could beat up my throat and outside my chest. “And I think you wanted me a little, too.”

Could almost swear that the brown of his eyes was no longer brown, but a deep, endless black. “Are you still hungry?” he asked, his chest falling harder and faster than before.

I shook my head, pushing away the empty bowl with a pair of very shaky hands before I’d start chewing on the porcelain. “You?”

“Depends. Are you offering yourself up?” He grabbed our bowls and stood towards the sink, stopping a little just to lean in and whisper in my ear, “I like it when you blush for me.”

“It’s the irritation.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“You don’t have to do the dishes.”

“And deprive you of the chance to ogle my backside?”

“I’m certain there is nothing inside your skull but two spiders webbing the empty space,” I said, tilting my head to get a better look at him.

“There is another thing.”

“Certainly not a brain.”

He chuckled, putting the wet dishes on the rack to dry. “A little bird.”

He was an idiot. An idiot whose laughter did funny things to my body. “Sounds very painful,” I said, giving him one of my polished smiles which I knew very well had always annoyed him. “Perfect.”

Leaning back on the sink, he began untying the apron, his gaze never leaving mine for a second. “It is.”

“Painful?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes on his upper half of the body.