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Logan laughed, the sound loud and joyful and full of vibrancy that she didn’t know he possessed. It was infectious and warm as he flourished his arms and enthusiastically demonstrated the maneuver he’d seen Cody perform in the tournament that day. He brandished his invisible sword with gusto and poised himself just as his brother had done that afternoon in the blazing summer sun.
“I wish you could have seen it, Gan,” he said as he parried a phantom opponent. “I wasn’t expecting his guarding technique or how tenacious he would be,” Logan reflected, undoubtedly successful in his attempt to thwart his unseen adversary. He set up again and Gan watched him, drank in his stance, the beauty in his practiced posture, the severity of flexed muscles, collected, and ready to react to whatever it was his eathral challenger would present him with. “He’s much better than he used to be. I always bested him,” Logan relaxed a little, softened his pose, then struck. “Now I wonder how we’d really fair against one another at arms,” he relaxed completely, the imaginary sword was gone, as was the contender that only Logan could see.
“That depends, is headbutting allowed?” she asked, Logan absently touched his nose. The injury had healed long ago but there was still a ridge there, subtle, but there.
“No headbutting,” Logan stated and Gan pursed her lips together in thought.
“If Cody was as brilliant as you say he was today. I might have to bet on your nicer half,” she grinned and Logan blinked down at her, taken aback, and she chuckled. “Don’t look so offended, Sir Garrin,” she teased and Logan’s face softened into a smile. It’s warmth touched his eyes and Gan felt her face flush, her stomach flutter, and her fingers busy themselves with the hem of her sleeves.
“That’s a fair assessment,” Logan conceited, then turned and walked farther into the garden, his posture a little too gleeful for Gan to feel comfortable. Had he seen her blush? She had certainly felt it. The garden was dim, she reasoned, illuminated only by the moon and sparsely lit lanterns. This had not been a place that the Leagivers had intended for their guests to visit during this evening's festivities.
“Odd of you to give into my fair assessment so easily,” Gan retorted as she caught up with herself as well as him. Her attempt at goading him had been countered beautifully.
“You are keen of eye and of mouth, Gan, and I, a noble Garrin of Soulford. I cannot deny someone the truth. It goes against all my moral code,” he mocked and Gan rolled her eyes despite the lopsided smirk that pulled at her lips.
“Far be it from me to lure you away from your moral code,” she laughed and fell into step beside him. It was quiet as they walked in comfortable silence and Gan wondered when their dynamic had shifted. Their dialog was no longer combative with words drawn like blades with the intent to disarm and dismember. Now, it was different. Now, their conversations were equally measured and matched, never intended for malice or for mortal wounds. They were kinder, somehow, but no less dull. Perhaps, Gan thought, it was because they had come to an understanding. They were no longer pitted against one another. She wondered how long this truse would last. How long would it be before the destruction she was trying to outrun came back to haunt her again?
Gan looked down at her feet as they peeked out from under her cornflower blue dress as she walked. Felicity had found one for her and altered it to fit without her knowing and Gan had fallen in love with the simple linen garment. Mostly because it had been Felicity who had gifted it to her and also because it had been a gift .
“I really love it here in Soulford,” Gan confessed, without context, just as her dress snagged in a rosebush. She turned to free herself from its snare. Logan paused. She imagined she could feel his stare at the back of her neck, boring into her, wanting to know more as he always did. A thorn pricked her thumb and she yanked her hand back. A small bead of blood bloomed, nearly black in the soft glow of the nearby lantern light, on her work-worn digit. She frowned and looked back to where her dress was still tangled.
“Here,” Logan knelt by her, down on one knee, and began working to free her. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and watched him in silence as he worked. “Do you plan on staying here?” he asked her and Gan let her finger drop from her mouth in thought. Questions made her uneasy and though she knew Logan’s query was an honest and simple one, it made her stomach knot. The silence must have given her away as he looked up to her, her dress half freed. “I’m sorry, no questions,” there was a longer stretch of silence and Gan felt the tension coil in the air like a white hot spring. She wanted to answer him. The unspoken response made her eyes sting and her throat constrict. “I…” he sighed and pulled the last of the briars from her dress. “I would like it, if you stayed,” he confessed and Gan felt the world stop.
She could hardly process his proclamation. Had he, Logan Garriford, just admitted that he wanted her to stay in Soulford? The well of emotions he’d uncovered with that simple, honest, admission threatened to overflow and she knew she would drown in them. He’d disarmed her, totally and completely, for the second time tonight. His words and actions, as he knelt before her pulling burrs from her dress and tugging the fabric into place, had brought her to her knees. Why had he ever been kind to her? It would have been easier if he had never reached out to her, held her hand, and thanked her.
“You would have me stay?” she whispered, the thought on the air before she could stop herself. He looked up to her and she was pinned in place by the intensity of his eyes. Always his eyes.
“Yes,” he exhaled and she felt her chest tighten.
“Even knowing what you do, you would still have me stay?” she asked, the question more a statement of disbelief than a true query.
“Yes,” he said and she wasn’t sure what to say or to think as he knelt before her, garbed in his regalia, screaming of strength and virtue and blinding loyalty as the Garrin he was; as he was. Carefully, she reached up and traced the scar on his brow. He didn’t move away from her. The images from the forest played in her head and she recalled the bloody tear he’d bore, the injuries he’d sustained, and it reopened wounds she’d thought she’d mended. It was painful to think about, as so much of her past was, but Logan wore constant reminders. She could not escape them any more than he could. She wanted to apologize for it, to wish it away, to correct the mistake that couldn’t be undone. Then, before she could dismiss the impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his brow.
His cheeks were warm under her touch. A blush that was felt but not seen. His hands found rest on her waist and she pulled back to look at him. His face in her hands, she brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, and met his eyes again. She had been expecting surprise, with a bit of annoyance, to greet her but his gaze was revenant and sincere. Had he understood her meaning? How she had no words to say what she wanted to convey? A smile touched his lips for a breath before it was gone and he acted on an impulse she wasn’t aware he, Logan , even had.
He tasted sweet. His kiss was soft, warm, and welcomed as, all at once, every emotion, every conflict, every concern she had ever possessed faded from existence. Logan filled her every sense, consumed her, and she relinquished herself to the enchantment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he enveloped her in his arms, pulled her closer, fit her against his broad frame. If she could have, she would have drowned in him, allowed herself to be pulled under by his current, never to be seen again. Logan would be the end of her and she would have it no other way.
He parted from her too soon. The loss of connection was nearly disorientening as he stood and lifted her onto a short retaining wall, two steps away from the rose bush she’d been tangled in. When she realized what he’d done, she laughed. Logan looked bashful now though he didn’t pull away from her, he held her nearly as close as they had been before they’d parted. She was only half a head shorter than him now and he was, no doubt, much more comfortable standing than kneeling. Gan looked up to him, met his sweet gaze, and then looked back to his flushed mouth. Absently she reached up and brushed a finger along his bottom lip. He released an arm from around her, took her hand in his, and kissed her palm. Gan felt her chest warm and her ears grow hot. The gesture was simple but it stirred something in her that no other kiss had.
He placed her hand on his cheek, closed his eyes, and leaned into it. His features relaxed and she felt a torrent of a thousand emotions rip through her body in a single, gut wrenching, moment. She hated knowing where this would likely lead and how it would end but this moment was beautiful and wonderful and she didn’t want to relinquish it.
Not yet.
Not ever.
Gan smiled, fought back the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes, and brushed her thumb against his cheek.
“Will you kiss me again?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.
“Yes,” he answered, and he leaned down to meet her and, again, she was consumed by him.