He looked down at me, the colors of his eyes just visible in the low light. “What if I did?”
“I’d say that’s quite disturbing.” My tone was firm, because I meant it. Itwasdisturbing.
“I didn't mean to disturb you, Petra.” His lips formed around my name like honey on a silver spoon. I closed my eyes and shook my head, ridding myself of the fog that had settled over my brain. “Is it okay if we walk to the waterfront?” he asked.
I stopped in my tracks. “Why are you asking me that?” I spat the words with venom, brows furrowed. He turned around to face me, a strand of dark hair falling over his forehead. “Why are you always asking if I’m okay?”
“Because of…what happened,” he murmured. “Because it may be a place you’d rather avoid. Because I want to make sure that you’re okay.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I’m fine,” I said firmly, picking up the pace again. “You asked me if I was okay once. I told you I was fine. You don’t need to ask again.”
He was quiet. I considered apologizing for my tone, but I kept quiet. We passed the street where the Painted Empress sat, music and screams billowing from the open windows. The torches mounted outside revealed his contemplative expression, the thoughtfulness resounding through me.
“What’s your favorite animal?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“What’s your favorite animal?” He repeated and looked at me expectantly. “It says a lot about a person.” I furrowed my brows at him and he offered me a slight smile, innocence on his face.
“A ciakoo,” I said without thinking. The answer came out of nowhere, and a small rift began to open in my heart.
“A ciakoo? Really? I haven’t seen one of those in ages,” he replied.
“Very rare,” I added flatly. We walked in silence for a few strides. “What does that say about me?”
His face turned introspective as his gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead. “Well, the ciakoo looks to be solid black at first glance, but the closer you get, you can see that it’s not. It’s like a painter’s palette if they were to try to paint the night sky. Not the canvas, but the palette, where they mix the paint together to try to get the perfect color. It’s always a mess but it’s always more interesting to me than the actual painting. Blues and purples, even some emeralds if you look at the palette in the right light. I think it means that there’s a lot more to you than what you see at first glance.”
I rolled my eyes. “Wow, all that from my favorite animal?” I said sarcastically.
He laughed and I swore the night sky lightened a shade, revealing the colors on the painter’s palette. “Make of it what you will.” He shrugged.
“What’s your favorite animal?” I asked.
A half smile revealed a single dimple. “A kelpie.”
I scoffed. “Kelpies have been extinct for a hundred years.”
“Doesn’t mean they can’t be my favorite,” he quipped.
“Okay, and what is that supposed to say about you?”
“I embody a kelpie. They’re soldiers of Katia. I’m a soldier of the Kingdom. Strong. Elusive. Mysterious.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes again and laugh.
“You’re not doing a very good job at being elusive or mysterious. I thought you said you had no further business in Inkwell?”
“So you think I’m strong?” he retorted.
“Answer my question, you prick.”
He chuckled. “I have no further business in Inkwell.”
“So why are you here?”
He laughed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He inclined his head slightly, then looked down at me. “Why do you think I’m in Inkwell?”
Heat rose in my cheeks and I was grateful to be away from any torches that could reveal my blush. I didn’t answer. Larka had always been the one to catch the male gaze, not me.
The harbor yawned in front of us and the familiar chilly breeze wrapped itself around me. We walked in comfortable silence under the cloudless night. Stars dotted the sky as if a needle had been poked through black silk and a candle lit behind it. The air was cool enough to feel crisp in my lungs, the bite a welcome feeling.