anything
but
fine. Not if she wanted the
winikin
to follow her lead. “How are the others?” They had still been muttering over their forearm marks—and her lack of one—when Dez had called her to the royal suite to give her report on the attack.
“They’re rattled. Scared. Wondering why the ward didn’t stop those things and what the hell else is going to go wrong next.”
Was it a good thing or bad that he didn’t mention the marks? She tried to tell from his expression, but saw only his concern and a questioning empathy that silently prodded,
Are you sure you’re okay?
“I’m fine,” she said again, then realized he hadn’t asked the question aloud.
Shit
. Flushing slightly, she added, “Should we do a Bud-’n’-bitch?” The officially unofficial gripe sessions were held once or twice a month in the Nightkeepers’ old training hall, which the rebel
winikin
had appropriated and renovated into a rec room. Part town meeting, part drinking game, and with no weapons allowed, the sessions gave the
winikin
an opportunity to blow off steam in no-Nightkeepers-allowed privacy.
He shook his head. “I think you should give it a day or two, see what the brain trust comes up with, and go from there. Besides, tonight might not be the best night to stick everyone in a room and throw alcohol in the mix.”
“Yeah. Probably not.” Edging back a step, feeling beyond awkward with a pound of hot dogs stuck down her pants, she made a
gotta go
gesture. “Well, I’m going to—”
“He was right, you know,” Zane interrupted, and the sudden set of his jaw said that this was what he’d come to tell her.
She stilled. “He who?”
“The coyote mage.” That was Zane’s name for Sven and was said, as always, with a faint sneer, but the bulk of his anger seemed self-directed as he said, “I should have sent you ahead with Lora. I should have had your back.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t realized he had been close enough to overhear, wondered what else he’d picked up from her and Sven’s exchange. Carefully, she said, “I gave you an order and you followed it. You did the right thing.”
That squared-off jaw got squarer. “Not this time. And, yeah, I know that following orders isn’t optional in the military but this”—his gesture encompassed all of Skywatch—“isn’t just an army; it’s a community. And you’re more than my superior officer, Cara. A hell of a lot more. Which as far as I’m concerned gives me the right—and, hell, the responsibility—to call bullshit on bad orders. I should’ve done that today. The
winikin
need you. And I… Shit.” He lifted a hand as if to touch her, but they were too far apart. “I wish I’d been the one. Not him.”
A harder, hotter flush hit her and she almost blurtedthat it wasn’t like that with her and Sven, that he wasn’t the one, that
nobody
was. But just in time she caught that he was talking about being the one to rescue her. “You saved Lora and Sven saved me. It was teamwork, Zane, just like we practiced.”
“Teamwork.” His lips twisted. “Is that what you call it?”
Okay,
she thought as a quiver worked its way through her stomach at the sudden heat in his eyes. He wasn’t entirely talking about the rescue, after all. “Zane…”
“Is it because of him? The coyote?”
“No.”
Yes
. “Absolutely not.”
Maybe a little
. “It’s because of
me
.” Which was true. She wanted more than she’d gotten in her life so far, and she was smart enough, disciplined enough, to know she couldn’t go looking for it while struggling to piece the
winikin
together.
He took a step closer, narrowing the gap between them as he searched her eyes. Suddenly she was very aware that they were alone and off duty—or as off it as either of them ever got—and he was close enough to kiss her. Heat stirred, but it came from embarrassment rather than excitement. All she could think was,
Please don’t try it
.
He reached out, took her hand, and raised it