Page 158 of Split or Swallow

“Very well.”

With a jolt, Tem realized the gesture was genuine. She was so used to Leo’s actions as moves on a chessboard; she almost couldn’t tell when he was being real.

“Wait,” she put her hand on his arm.

Leo paused, still holding his cloak. His eyes searched hers, deep apprehension in them.

“You can give it to me.”

A shadow of Leo’s smile returned, and he stepped closer.

Tem stayed perfectly still as he draped his cloak over her shoulders. He brushed his fingers along the nape of her neck, gently lifting her hair so her curls fell loosely down her back.

He looked so content as he did it—so undeniably fulfilled—that despite the warmth of his cloak, Tem got full-body chills.

Leo looked her in the eye.

“I understand you don’t need me to take care of you,” he said quietly. “But it is my pleasure to do so.”

Tem nodded, her throat suddenly tight.

She knew Leo liked to take care of her. She remembered how he’d paid for her drinks at the Horseman—how he always made sure she had enough to eat. Such gestures were how he built trust between them. But it only worked when Tem let him do it, and nothing could be more difficult.

Tem pulled his cloak tighter around her shoulders as they walked back toward the church. Did Leo wish he was giving Evelyn his cloak instead of Tem? And did Tem wish it was Caspen giving her his cloak instead of Leo? She didn’t know anymore.

When they were once again standing on the main street, Leo looked at her.

“What next?”

Tem looked back at him.

She knew he didn’t want to go home. And normally, neither would Tem. But her mother was tending to the butcher’s daughter, and Tem found she didn’t want to be alone.

So she took the lead, guiding them wordlessly through the cobblestone streets, steadily approaching the edge of the village. Leo’s shiny black shoes were out of place here; Tem found herself blushing as they reached her tiny cottage. If Leo thought her accommodations were depressing, he didn’t say so. Instead he followed Tem as she pushed through the garden gate, asking only:

“Are your parents not home?”

“I’ve never met my father,” Tem said. “And my mother is tending to a child in the village.”

Leo didn’t respond.

As soon as they were inside, Tem pulled Leo’s cloak off her shoulders and hung it on the coat rack before pointing at the kitchen table.

“Sit.”

Leo’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “If you insist.”

Tem knew her mother kept a stash of alcohol in the kitchen for the rare occasion when she needed a drink after a particularly long day on the farm. She searched for it while Leo sat, eventually locating the bottle in the cupboard behind the flour.

She held it up.

“Only if you’ll join me,” Leo said in reply.

Tem found two glasses and poured them full. She handed one to Leo.

“To Kora,” she said.

“To Kora.”