JACOB
The arrival of the dragon jerked Jacob back to awareness of himself, what he was doing, what he looked like, and where he was. The protective nature of the beast couldn’t be missed, an instinct that the man understood quite well in some regards, but storm-blue eyes watched as it crossed the sandy shore to move closer to Maeve. Had she always had a dragon? He couldn’t remember… But, well, it wasn’t really his business, was it?
Jacob remained stationary, his boots clutched in a trembling hand. Perhaps he should have just stayed home.
Swallowing hard, he waited, but blissfully, mercilessly, he did not have to wait long. The Lady’s return greeting wasn’t what he had expected, either, but… The day had been full of surprises thus far, and it wasn’t as if he and Maeve had ever truly conversed before. Hearing of someone, knowing of someone, was far different from speaking to them yourself. Jacob knew that. He understood…
Yet hearing his name on her lips shook him. She knew his name? They had seen one another a few times in the markets, passing by like ships in the night, a courteous nod whenever he felt bold enough to not just lower his head, alter his path, and walk away. Jacob hadn’t thought such sparse encounters would warrant a curiosity into who he was, but perhaps he was overthinking things.
He usually did.
Clearing his throat, he responded, trying not to wither beneath those sharp-cut jade eyes. “It has, Madam. I only recently returned to Torchline.” A sufficient answer, yes? Storm-blue eyes scanned the contents of the blanket, taking note of the book held delicately in the Queen’s milk-white grasp, the way her finger marked her page. A subtle sense of appreciation crested over him, foolishly, dumbly, for noticing how Maeve refused to bend the corners of a page to keep her place like most might do.
One could tell a lot about someone by how they treated their books. Jacob felt himself relaxing, even though he remained caught in her stare. Filled with a breath of bravery, the man lifted his eyes to catch her own, and he smiled meekly, that familiar, tantalizing kiss of curiosity tugging at him.
“It’s a beautiful evening for a read. Might I ask what you’re reading?”
Jacob remained stationary, his boots clutched in a trembling hand. Perhaps he should have just stayed home.
Swallowing hard, he waited, but blissfully, mercilessly, he did not have to wait long. The Lady’s return greeting wasn’t what he had expected, either, but… The day had been full of surprises thus far, and it wasn’t as if he and Maeve had ever truly conversed before. Hearing of someone, knowing of someone, was far different from speaking to them yourself. Jacob knew that. He understood…
Yet hearing his name on her lips shook him. She knew his name? They had seen one another a few times in the markets, passing by like ships in the night, a courteous nod whenever he felt bold enough to not just lower his head, alter his path, and walk away. Jacob hadn’t thought such sparse encounters would warrant a curiosity into who he was, but perhaps he was overthinking things.
He usually did.
Clearing his throat, he responded, trying not to wither beneath those sharp-cut jade eyes. “It has, Madam. I only recently returned to Torchline.” A sufficient answer, yes? Storm-blue eyes scanned the contents of the blanket, taking note of the book held delicately in the Queen’s milk-white grasp, the way her finger marked her page. A subtle sense of appreciation crested over him, foolishly, dumbly, for noticing how Maeve refused to bend the corners of a page to keep her place like most might do.
One could tell a lot about someone by how they treated their books. Jacob felt himself relaxing, even though he remained caught in her stare. Filled with a breath of bravery, the man lifted his eyes to catch her own, and he smiled meekly, that familiar, tantalizing kiss of curiosity tugging at him.
“It’s a beautiful evening for a read. Might I ask what you’re reading?”
but my peace has always depended
On all the ashes in my wake
On all the ashes in my wake
