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“Battlefield indeed…” Suddenly, my chest pumps hard. I douse his deeper frown with my jolt of comprehension. “And battlefields…belong inwars. And sometimes, wars pit even close friends against each other.”
Thoughtful furrows press over his eyebrows. “You think Hecate had some kind of premonition about your mom being on approach?”
“I wouldn’t write it off.” I’ve only known the goddess for two days, but her perceptive abilities are nearly an enchantment of their own. “Maybe not a full-blown vision, but she probably sensed it. Maybe she wasn’t sure about the timing and didn’t want to scare everyone prematurely. But grabbing Circe for an early augury would make complete sense.”
“And they locked horns about what the game plan would be?”
I study the faraway glint in his gaze. “It doesn’t look like you’re buying that theory.”
“Probably because I don’t.”
“Why?”
“No idea. But I’ll work on getting over it while you sleep. Sometimes you have to stand back from a puzzle to stop obsessing the minor grooves.”
I scoot down and nestle deeper beneath the cloud of covers. I know he’s going to attempt just that. He’s not letting go of something here—some strange perception of what he saw earlier in the sala or the mystery beneath Iremia’s own War of the Roses.
All the things we still can’t see…
I want to tell myself that the same thoughts don’t hammer at me. Whatever history exists between my mother and the witches should probably stay shrouded by the past. Poking the veil will only lead to things I don’t want to know, about people I want to keep on trusting.
People who don’t try to tie me back down. Who tell me I’m a diamond.
“A…diamond…”
Why does it sound so different out loud? Like I haven’t had a sip of water in days? Worse, that my brain is crash-landing back to reality.
Or maybe just consciousness.
Oh, wow. How long have I been asleep?
“Good afternoon, beautiful.”
I look across the room, to the big easy chair in which Maximus has camped himself with a book. Sure enough, beams of September sun slant in through the panes, giving away the midday time frame. There’s a mild breeze that flickers the rays across his head, turning his hair into a gemlike collision of tawny colors.
I prop my cheek on a pillow and hitch my shoulder into the sultry move. “Well,nowit’s good.”
He closes his book with a frown, and again my stomach flips in all the good ways. The look reminds me of simpler days in his lecture hall, when a random student’s question would inspire him to deeper levels of contemplation. Usually that random student was me, which made those moments even sweeter to savor.
It all feels like so long ago. And I want it back so badly.
“You sure?” he finally murmurs. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Oh?” Somehow I avoid blushing to my roots. “Ermmm…what was I babbling about?”
“I think you’re more worried about Kell than you’re willing to admit.”
That takes care of stressing about a blush. Instead, I push against the pillows until I’m upright. “Oh, I’m fully willing to admit it.”
He cants his head, still thoughtful. “Your mom said she was okay.”
“Yes, she did. With Arden by her side.” I roll to my feet and cross toward him. “When he’s around,okayturns relative.”
“Solid point. But I don’t want you wearing yourself out again. And you’ll do that by worrying about it.”
I don’t resist as he leans forward, hooking an arm around my waist to pull me from my stressed pace. After another little pull, I land gently in his lap. The chair is roomy enough for both of us, so it’s not a hardship to settle in.
“Okay.” I sigh as he combs those addictingly long fingers through my sleep-mussed hair. “But I also think you’re trying to distract me.”
