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Natheran Reiks’s.
My mouth falls open, because he and I don't exist in the same spheres. We don't mesh. We certainly shouldn't collide.
“Are you all right, Reiks?” a pretty woman dressed in royal blue asks, approaching the giant and fussing over him.
I’m the one on the ground, but I might as well not exist. Which is fair, given that the incident is entirely my fault.
I sit up painfully, bracing to get to my feet on bruised legs covered in shallow cuts.
Reiks shrugs off the woman’s help and strolls to me, to offer a steadying hand. “Careful, there. We wouldn’t want to add blood to this mess.” His voice is so very deep, from up close. I don't think I heard it accurately in the chapel at the start of school.
I take his hand. It would be rude not to. I immediately regret it.
It feels wrong.
I don't like touching anyone if I can help it. It gives me too much of them. I sense what they're made of beneath the surface, and well, I quite simply don't care to have such insight on anyone here.
Especially him.
The contact is strange. Strange because I don't gain any unwanted knowledge at the touch. Strange because he feels too cold. Strange because a current of energy burns my skin, jolting me more than my fall did. I want to push him away and take three steps back. Before I do, Reiks bends to wrap one arm under my knees and secures the other around my back. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all. I'm as tall as some city lamp posts, not exactly a delicate flower. Though I suppose that compared to him, I could be.
With ease, he carries me to one of the benches littering the courtyard, sets me down and remains at my side, his large hands gently applying pressure on my foot, to test its flexibility.
I want to tell him to stop. I should. But he happens to be good at this. His soft manipulation soothes my aching limb.
“Reiks!” the woman shrieks, clearly offended. “We’re late, and the relic’s destroyed, thanks to that idiot. We have to—”
“Go." His voice is flat, without intonation, but the order doesn't leave room for argument. "I’ll handle this.”
“This” being me, presumably.
The woman doesn't look happy at all. She also doesn't have a choice. Given her silver and blue uniform marked with the Reiks emblem, she's one of his servants—or at least his subject. The crown prince has spoken.
Although she continues to huff, she leaves the courtyard, entering the university through the arched doorway I just burst out of.
“Do you make a habit of walking around Five naked?” he asks
Dammit. I'd completely forgotten the fact that I'm wearing a tiny towel. Thankfully, it's still secured around my flat chest.
I’m not shy. I dance naked in the woods several times a year. But the Cs were right to guess that I would find this humiliating. I don’t like standing out.
“Someone took my clothes in the rec center. I was going to get some in the common dorm," I rush to explain, then I mentally kick myself.
It's none of his business.
One of my weaknesses is that I pay attention to what people might think about me more than a Frejr should.
“I see.”
I don't like being this close to Reiks. I don't honestly enjoy proximity to anyone at all. It makes me feel vulnerable. But Reiks? His presence is unnerving. It was when we were yards away. Now, it's worse.
The prince glances back at the broken pieces and sighs. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“Sorry," I say, maybe too late. I'm not accustomed to apologizing. I don't typically do anything that necessitates it. “I heard—” He won’t care what I heard. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. It’s my fault.”
“I suppose it is.” He tilts his head, watching me with rapt attention, just like he did the Strejaday of his fiancée’s funeral.
“I can pay for it,” I offer, not entirely confident that's the truth.
