Page 100 of Split or Swallow

Tem frowned. She had no idea why he would demand this of her. But it wasn’t a hard question, and she easily answered:

“Your knowledge. Your patience. I have neither.”

“My knowledge I have gained over centuries. My patience likewise. Those things do not make me extraordinary, and you should not measure yourself against them.”

Tem was surprised at his tone. He almost seemed angry.

“I meant to compliment you,” she said.

“You complimented me at the expense of yourself.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how to do it otherwise.”

He shook his head.

“You are the extraordinary one.”

“No. I’m not. I’m utterly ordinary.”

Caspen sighed.

“That is patently untrue. But I do not expect you to believe me.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” he said, the gold of his eyes flashing in the dim firelight. “You do not see yourself as I do.”

He spoke calmly, as if his words were the ultimate truth. Yet Tem could not believe him. Years of cruel taunts ran through her mind—Vera’s, the other schoolchildren’s. Tem knew what other people thought of her; she knew how she felt in comparison to others. She hoped to one day see herself as Caspen did, but she doubted that day was today. Still, she asked:

“How do you see me?”

His eyes remained on hers for a long moment.

“It would be easier to show you.”

Before Tem had time to wonder what that meant, Caspen was pulling her to her feet. He positioned her so she was in front of the full-length mirror with him standing behind her. Gently, the motion so slow she barely noticed it was happening, he unlaced the linen shirt and slipped it from her shoulders. It fell to the ground. Then he brushed her hair back so she was completely uncovered.

Despite herself, Tem blushed. She rarely used the mirror at home, and when she did she never looked at herself naked—certainly not for any prolonged amount of time. Her body had changed, she realized, since the last time she had really seen it. The awkward angles of her childhood were long gone. She had curves now, and rather impressive ones, thanks to the additional meals after her training sessions with Caspen. Her skin was tanned from hours spent outside on the farm, and her hair had lost its tight curls as it lengthened, framing her face with soft, graceful waves.

Caspen’s hands were moving again, tracing lightly up her arms to the base of her neck. His fingers covered, then squeezed, her throat before brushing over her breasts and continuing down to her waist. When he reached her hips he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his body. His chin rested on her head.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Perfection.”

Tem stared at the two of them in the mirror. She supposed it was possible someone might consider her pretty. But it took only one look at Caspen to dispel the notion that he could believe anything of the sort. His muscles were perfectly toned, his arms flexed in rigid precision around her waist. His jawline stood out in sharp contrast to the soft lines of her face, and his hair was somehow perfectly styled. Tem felt an insistent jab of jealousy as she looked at him. She would never hold herself the way he did—with such easy elegance—she would never look that effortless. She felt herself retreating inward, to the place where she’d learned to hide from the bullies at school. Caspen’s voice was suddenly in her mind.

Do not do that.

Do what?

Do not compare yourself to me. I already told you I am nothing to aspire to.

It was so deeply false that Tem actually snorted. She tried to pull away, but Caspen only held her tighter.

I am not letting you go until you grasp this.

Then we’re going to be standing here a long time.

Caspen’s annoyance surged, then retreated. In its place came a gentle wave of understanding—a beam of pure empathy that seeped right into Tem’s heart and warmed her to the core.