Page 113 of Ravenrose

I narrow my eyes. They dart between his face and my blade in his hand, calculating just how fast I’d have to be to swipe it off him.

I thought the river took it.

Gods, starting the day already this pissed off is really a less than auspicious start.

“Give it back,” I growl venomously.

“Ask nicely.”

The audacity of this man. “No.”

“You could at least say please.” He tilts his head expectantly to the side as if waiting for me to say it.

“Fuck that.”

The captain’s eyebrows lift at my colorful language.

“I thought I lost it.”

“I know.”

“You let me think I lost it.”

“I did.”

“You’re a monster, you know that?”

He laughs, and I don’t know what to make of it. A genuine bona fide laugh spills out of the man who wouldn’t know a smile if it bit him. I want to slap him. Hard.

“It’s not funny.”

He chuckles again. “I never said it was.”

I can only glare at him—pointedly.

“To be fair, you did try to stab me with it.”

“No, I didn’t!” I shout in exasperation. The man has already succeeded in getting under my skin. “I was actually in the middle of saving your life, but you’re just too dumb to notice.”

He frowns; the blade spinning in his palm goes still.

“It’s mine,” I say softer this time, my eyes fixed on the blade, on the intricate rose carved into the handle.

“So you’ve said—a few times now,” he replies flatly.

“Gah, you’re insufferable, do you know that?” I’m pacing the room now like a caged animal. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much.

He smirks. The bastard is enjoying this. Ayer twirls the knife once more, tossing it up, flipping it mid-air so that he catches it by the blade before holding the hilt of it out. Offering it to me.

I freeze.

I don’t take it yet, eyeing him with suspicion. A trap, surely, knowing him. But to what end? My eyes dart around nervously, marking the exits. The door is clear now. The bureau Ayer dragged in front of it last night—a makeshift alarm should I try to escape—has been pushed back into place.

As if reading my thoughts, Ayer sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. I notice the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. He looks… tired.

“Just take it.”

I hesitate for another few seconds before reaching up slowly, watching him, watching the blade. My fingers close around the familiar handle. It’s warm. The feel of it in my hand is an unexpected comfort. I wait for Ayer to pull it back, to twist this into something else, but he doesn’t.