The heavy hatch slammed overhead, but the muted sounds of the storm roaring outside still permeated the dank, frigid space.
It was so dark, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, which was doing nothing for my balance. My body still thought it was floating through the air, the room spinning around me.
There was a curse and a scraping sound before a small lantern flared to life, illuminating the grim lines of Theo’s face. It centered me, and I focused on him until I was some semblance of steady.
“Thank you…for saving me,” I said, rubbing a hand over my very sore and stiff neck.
Theo was silent for several long moments. I looked up to find him shaking his head, pressing his sleeve to the small cut on his chin.
For all that we had just been through, it was nothing short of miraculous that we came away so unscathed.
“I wouldn’t have had to save you if I believed your warning,” Theo responded after a moment.
In spite of the words, he sounded more reproachful than apologetic.
“But?” I questioned him, dropping my hand to my side.
He cocked his head, tension hunching his shoulders. “But I wouldn’t have hesitated to believe you if you didn’t insist on being so ridiculous the rest of the time.”
I bristled. “So it’s my fault that I told you there was a storm coming and you didn’t listen?”
“You told me you had a storms-blasted weather toe, Rowan!” He was closer to shouting than I had ever heard him. “Of course I wasn’t going to believe you, and at least one man died today because of it.”
His jaw tightened and he looked away. I wondered if he was more upset with me or himself.
“You knew I was serious,” I said. I had done everything I could to convince him. “I saw it in your face.”
“I didn’t know what to think when you were making such outlandish claims. But life, death, laws, people, all of it is a joke to you. You make it impossible to take you seriously, then have the nerve to complain when no one does.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. Hadn’t everyone in my life essentially taken turns telling me variations of the same thing? Both of my parents, and, hell, even Avani.
I love you, Row. But sometimes I feel like you’re your own worst enemy.
I sighed. Sometimes I feel that way, too, Avani.
Whatever part of me had been offended effectively dissipated with that memory, replaced by bone-deep fatigue. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
He huffed out a breath of air. “You could have died, Rowan.”
It was the second time he had said my name. Just my name. No title, no pomp, no condescension. Just Rowan, breathed in a tone far more earnest than his usual high-handed manner.
I shook my head, trying for a teasing lilt. “That thought didn’t seem to bother you much when I was in the dungeons.”
“It’s different now,” he said.
“What’s different?” I challenged.
“You’re different.” He clamped his mouth shut, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “You’re just…not what I expected,” he added quietly.
For a moment, there was no sound aside from the whipping wind outside and a clinking from the edges of the small space we were in. I could have asked him how I was different, but I knew as well as he did things had shifted between us these past two days.
And for once, I didn’t want to needle at him. It wasn’t a question he would want to answer. If I was being completely honest with myself, it wasn’t a question I was sure I wanted to hear the answer to.
Not when everything was confusing enough as it was. Not when I might not live long enough for the answer to matter.
So instead, I made a show of looking around. “What even is this place?”
The tension in his shoulders eased, and I knew changing the subject was the right move.
“Ironically enough, it’s a smuggler’s hole.”
“How fitting.” I huffed out a dry laugh.
“Indeed,” Theo added with a nod of his head.
I sank to the ground, fighting back a shiver as I made contact with the freezing dirt. After a stilted silence, I spoke again. “So, if I… borrow one of these bottles, would that make a difference to my sentencing?”
There was a long pause, and I mentally chastised myself for making a joke when he had just gotten upset over that very thing. With a sigh, though, he responded.
“I suppose we would have to add theft to your list of crimes.” He didn’t sound precisely amused, but at least he wasn’t angry anymore.
“Ah, but what is theft on top of the heinous crime of smuggling?” I asked.
The lantern light danced in his hazel eyes as he shook his head ruefully. He surprised me after a moment, though, pulling out one of the dusty glass cylinders.
“There. Now I’ve stolen it, and we’ll never have to find out.”
The corner of my mouth tugged upward as he popped the cork and took a swig before handing it to me. “My dear, Lord Theodore, what will people think?”
He scoffed and rested his head on the wall behind him, flinching when the bottles rattled as the wind howled.
“I didn’t think you were the sort of person who cared about the opinions of others,” he added after a moment.
I shrugged with more nonchalance than I felt. He was right. Usually I didn’t care. So why does everything feel different where Theo is involved?
