Page 24

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rhydian watching me.

He has a little smile on his face. A knowing, amused, deeply suspicious little smile.

Like he knows exactly what I was just thinking.

Which is impossible. Obviously.

At least, I really hope it is.

5

Elara

I'm starting to feel human again. My fingers work. My toes work. My brain is slowly crawling out of the snowbank it's been buried in since yesterday.

Which is exactly when I notice the draft.

It's coming from under the blankets. Specifically, it's coming from places on my body where a draft has no business being.

I glance down. Slowly, I lift the edge of the covers and peek underneath.

Chemise. Bare skin. That's it.

No dress. No cloak. No petticoat. Not even the wool vest I'd pulled on over everything before I left the cottage. I’d realized that in all the chaos, but, somehow, I hadn’t processed what it meant.

I drop the blanket and look up at the three men.

"Where," I say, very calmly, "are my clothes?"

Rhydian's eyebrows go up. Kaelen looks at the fire. Zarek, of course, doesn't so much as twitch.

"They were soaked through," he says. "Every layer. If we'd left them on you, you'd have kept losing heat, and you were already in danger. We had to get them off."

"We," I repeat.

"We kept you covered," he says. "As much as possible. Blankets the whole time. We were gentlemen."

I look at him. Then at Kaelen, who is still very interested in the fire. Then at Rhydian, who's leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed and looking far too pleased about my expression.

"Gentlemen?" I say.

"Complete gentlemen," Rhydian agrees. "Nobody peeked. Not that it would've been a hardship, mind you."

I narrow my eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You're beautiful." He says it like someone else might say the soup is hot. "Even half frozen, soaking wet, with mud up to your knees and a dagger in your fist. We're admiring you right now, if I'm honest. We didn't need to undress you to do it."

Heat rushes into my face.

That's annoying.

"Flattery isn't going to distract me from the question," I tell him.

"I'm not trying to distract you." His grin goes crooked. "I'm just stating a fact."

Somehow, that's worse.

I yank the blanket a little higher and clear my throat. "Fine. Where are my clothes now? And do you have anything I can wear while they dry? Because I'm not spending the whole day under here like a turtle."