Caylus looked from me to the hanging basket and back again. “But then how would I ever find anything?”

“Are you saying you know where everything in this mess is?”

“Except my book on early Illucian technology. I haven’t seen that for weeks.”

I paused, staring at him. “That’s a joke.” He smiled, and I shook my head. “We really need to work on your sense of humor.”

He laughed, and the silence that followed felt comfortable and full, like a cozy room lit by a crackling fire. Suddenly, I became aware of our closeness, of my palm brushing his face, my fingertips touching the soft hairs at his temple. Caylus swayed, as if unsure whether to lean away from my touch or into it. The memory of our kiss hung between us.

I cleared my throat, turning away as a flush crept into my cheeks. Instantly, I felt the absence of his warm skin against mine. “You’ll be fine. It’s already stopped bleeding.”

I grabbed a few more towels and tossed them to Caylus, then fetched a jug of water from across the room, cursing myself as I went. I’d kissed him, and now I couldn’t manage to stand a foot away from him?

When I returned, Caylus had started mopping up the mess, remnants of scarlet lighting his golden skin. He grabbed the water jug without a word and dampened a cloth with it, cleaning quickly.

As he carried the used cloths away, I picked up some papers where the liquid had caught the edges and spread them out in the light of the wide front window to dry. The edge of his sketchbook had also gotten wet, and as I moved it into the sun, two papers fluttered out. I picked them up, careful of the damp edges.

Night incarnate stared back. A crow hovered, its wings drawn up and flared out as it landed. They curved forward, creating a cocoon around a proud figure in flying leathers. My lips parted.

Caylus had drawn my hair in a braid down my back, several curls left loose and caught in an invisible wind. The leathers he’d drawn to the tiniest pleat, and they clung to me like armor. With a bow strapped across my chest and a quiver of arrows at my hip, I looked formidable.

A rush of heat filled me from my brow to the tips of my toes. How had he done this with his shaking hands that could barely form letters? It must have taken him hours. Days.

The wooden floor creaked behind me, and I turned.

Caylus shifted nervously in the doorway. “I, um, hope I got the flying leathers right. The only drawings I could find weren’t very detailed. Makes sense. I guess the people making them wouldn’t want anyone else knowing the design, and no one in Illucia cares. But I didn’t know how accurate they were and—”