“I’m sorry, but I can’t. This kind of rampant criminal behaviour is what is wrong with our kingdom!”
Before I can reply, I feel a shadow fall over me, and I glance up to see Rylan approaching us. His presence changes the air immediately, like a gust of cold wind, and his eyes flick between me and Mathis.
“It’s time for me to take over the watch,” Rylan says, his voice low and firm. “You should get some rest, Mathis.”
Mathis drops my foot but doesn’t move. “I’m good. I’m not tired. You should get some more sleep.”
Rylan stares at him, unspoken words flicking between them. After a moment, Mathis loses the nonverbal discussion, sighing dramatically as he stands. “Alright, alright. I know where I’m not wanted… unlike some people. I’ll leave you two to your cringingly awkward silence.” He bows to me. “Milady, please let me know if this miscreant causes you any trouble. And I guess I shall have to be happy with seeing your beautiful face in my dreams.” Ignoring Rylan’s narrowed eyes, he pats him on the shoulder, whistling as he wanders over to his bedroll.
Rylan stares at the spot Mathis just vacated, as if wondering whether or not to take his spot. “You’re not sleeping.”
I shrug, threading another needle. “Hard to sleep when you’re not sure where you’ll be this time tomorrow.”
Rylan says nothing, just watches me with that intense, calculating look, before finally plopping down onto Mathis’s seat. Then, without a word, he reaches for a needle and gestures for the thread. His fingers brush mine as he takes it from me, and a jolt of warmth shoots up my arm, leaving me momentarily breathless. The firelight flickers between us, and for a second, the world narrows to the small space between our hands.
I pull my hand back quickly, feeling a heat rise in my cheeks. “You know how to darn?” I ask, trying to distract myself, as I watch him fold over the frayed hem of my skirt before pulling the needle through the worn fabric.
His lips quirk in an amused look. “Why does that surprise you?”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You just seem more like the type to tear holes, not fix them. Or is that just with people?”
He chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling. And it warms my heart. “Sometimes people need the holes fixed… so I can cut more later.”
I laugh, and the tension eases a little. “He jokes,” I point out, shaking my head in mock disbelief.
“In the right company,” he replies, his voice softer now, almost warm.
“And I’m that company?”
“It seems so.”
We fall into a comfortable silence again, heat emanating off his close proximity, his arm brushing mine occasionally as he works on my skirt, his fingers deftly stitching the fabric. My heart races for reasons I can’t quite explain, and I find myself glancing at him, stealing looks when I think he’s not paying attention. The firelight casts shadows across his face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the sheen of the scar running down his neck.
After a few minutes, I break the silence, unable to stop myself from asking. “Tell me something about you.”
Rylan glances at me, then back at the fabric in his hands. “What do you want to know?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t have to be some grand secret. Just… something. So that when I say goodbye tomorrow, I can say, ‘That was Rylan. Other than being tall, dark, and emotionally constipated, he liked eating banana pudding.’”
He wrinkles his nose in mock disgust. “I absolutely donotlike banana pudding.”
I laugh, watching him closely. “Alright then, tell me something else.”
He hesitates for a moment, his needle stilling as he thinks. “Hmm, I have two sisters.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Two sisters?”
“Yes. Younger ones.” He focuses on his stitching, his voice quieter now. “I love them both, but… one more than the other.”
I blink in surprise. “Oh my, playing favourites, Lord Grumpypants?”
He glares at the reminder of his nickname. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do. She’s easier to love. Which..is a terrible reason.”
“But I suppose they both utterly adore you?”
Rylan huffs. “Hardly. I’m not sure they like me much at all. One maybe slightly more than the other, but that’s not saying much.”
“Why?”
