“You did?” I unlace my cotehardie and slip out of it.
“I didn’t find these, but I thought of you when I saw them.”
I move to him and take the basket of seashells from him. My heart lightens as I run my fingers over the shells, feeling their smooth texture. Jasce watches me as I examine each one of them.
“Thank you,” I say, giving him a wide smile.
Jasce leans closer and brushes loose strands of hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear.
My throat tightens as I stare down at the collection of seashells. “Do you know why I like seashells?”
“Why?”
“My mother used to collect them. She says they remind her that beauty can always be found, even on the beach where storms arrive with the waves.” Of course, she said those things before she consumed that vile flower. “A few summers ago, she gave me her collection. Asha drew their likenesses, and I hung the sketches in my bedchamber.”
“Is that why you sketched seashells all over my parchment?” he asks, his tone light, teasing.
“I wanted a piece of me here. A piece that was Annora,” I say truthfully.
“Did it work?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks as I continue. “And it allowed you to discover one of my favorite hobbies—collecting seashells.” I stare up at him. “Thank you. How might I repay you?”
“There is no need to repay me.”
“I know, but I want to.”
He moves to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t need anything.”
I set the basket of seashells on the table and sit next to him. “How about I promise to give you something in return? You ask, and I give it. Except…” heat flames my cheeks, “…you know.”
“You know?” He smiles, his lips curling in amusement. “What is, you know?”
More heat rushes to my cheeks as I cross one leg over the other and bounce it back and forth. “Coupling.”
His head tilts back as he laughs, the sound deep and full of humor.
“You’re laughing at me,” I grumble.
Jasce reaches for my hand and molds his fingers around mine. “I’m not laughing at you. I'm laughing at how you blush when you saycoupling.”
“Are you going to ask me for something?”
“Hmm. Let me think. How about a kiss?”
I shake my head. “I meant something of value or importance.”
“A kiss is valuable,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.
“But...” I argue. “I want to give you something you will always remember me by.”
“Are you leaving me?” He stiffens and releases my hand.
My belly clenches as I look away, fastening my gaze to the window, where raindrops slip down the glass.
Someday, I will leave, and his Lyra will return.
Or so…I hope.
