with a page. His lips occasionally formed silent words, as if he were reading the text to himself. At one point he frowned. Turned the page. Smiled.
He was entirely engrossed, and the lingering hesitation I harbored after our previous encounter ebbed away. How could he be so different? Warm, intriguing, approachable. Was that what it meant to be an assassin? Able to flip a switch with a moment’s notice? Making a wide circle so as not to draw his attention, I moved closer.
Noc continued to read, his gaze visibly tracking the lines of the story.
Late-morning sun softened the harsh edges of his expression. It was so jarring to see him like this. Relaxed. At ease. A complete and total juxtaposition to the man who’d cast me out of the kitchen with nothing but harsh words and an even sharper glare. This man was almost…endearing.
I inched closer, trying to catch a snippet of text. I wanted to know what he was reading. What story made his lips shape words of their own accord. What pulled him in and gave him such peace.
A snaking thread of frost licked my exposed arm. I glanced down, startled, to find a shadow curling around my bicep.
“You’re not very quiet.”
Noc didn’t look up from his book. I expected his expression to harden, but the only recognition I got was a slight tremor in his jaw. He turned another page.
I swallowed. “Guess not.”
The shadow continued its lazy caress of my skin. It was surprisingly gentle. Gooseflesh followed in its wake, and I suppressed a full-blown shiver. Finally, Noc glanced up. Obsidian eyes burrowed into me, and with a minute flick of his finger, the shadow dispersed.
“Do you need something?” The same question from last night, and yet it held none of the icy sting of before.
“Just passing the time. We could’ve been on our way to Ortega Key by now.”
He closed the book. “Kost is gathering supplies. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” He made a move to stand, and I found myself searching for a reason to keep him seated. My gaze slid to the bold silver title printed across the navy cover of the book.
“A Chalice of Lies?”
His feet touched the floor, but he didn’t stand. “You’ve read it?”
“No.”
He looked disappointed. “Pity. It’s good.”
“What’s it about?”
A glimmer of warmth bloomed in his dark eyes. “A young man who finds a box of letters left for him by his late father. They contain information about the reigning queen. Some are true, some aren’t. It keeps me guessing. The best stories do that. Make you search for the answer. Leave little clues.”
I felt myself smile. “Kind of like a puzzle.”
“Exactly like a puzzle.” His expression lightened a fraction.
This assassin I could work with. We didn’t have to like each other. After all, I’d barged into his home making threats and demands. I’d hurt Kost. It wasn’t exactly the most welcoming of introductions. Noc’s icy demeanor made sense when put into context. Maybe I’d misread him. All things considered, I wouldn’t trust me, either.
Trust was exactly what I needed to spark, at least on his end, if I ever had a chance of securing what I needed.
Noc tilted his head and pressed the book flat between his palms. “Something else on your mind?”
“I’m just interested.” I rotated the ring around my finger.
His eyes tracked the motion before he returned his gaze to my face. An almost-sweet smile started to tug at the corners of his lips. “In the book? Or something else?”
Heat simmered down my neck. Before I could answer, a plume of black blossomed beside me, and Kost emerged with several bulging bags tied tight with string. He glanced back and forth between us, jaw set and green glare damning. He gave me one quick appraisal before turning so I was just shy of his line of sight. Dismissed.
Irritation spiked my pulse. “Hello.”
He didn’t dignify me with a response. “Noc, we have some things to discuss. Immediately.”
Standing, Noc set the book on the window bench. “All right. I’ll be in my study. No need to bring the supplies; I trust you got what we needed.”
“Good.” Shadows swallowed Kost before I could get a word in, and he was gone. Noc angled his chin in my direction, his face once again devoid of warmth.
Then, he slipped his hand into the back pocket of his trousers and extracted a folded piece of parchment. “Here.”