[TAKES PLACE DURING RECKLESS]

• • •

When I wake, it's to a tendril of silver hair itching my nose. Agitated and half-asleep, I swat at it, refusing to sneeze if only to keep my body sedated another hour.

I'm about to close my eyes again, delirious with exhaustion, when I realize that a piece of silver hair has never been remotely close enough to brush my face.

And that thought has me supporting my head with my elbow.

It's then that I realize silver hair isn't the only thing brushing my body.

Paedyn's head is deposited on top of my chest, splaying hair cast in moonbeams all over my abdomen.

It's almost laughable.

Yesterday — and everyday before that, I suppose — she had a dagger pressed to my throat. And this morning, she's asleep in my arms as though she's been drugged.

And I'm half-convinced she is, because never in a million lifetimes would I have guessed she'd snuggle up to me voluntarily.

It's unnatural, and the worst part is, I wish it wasn't.

Repressing a sigh, I stare up at the darkened, early morning sky.

After a long day of being chased, we climbed up onto a roof overlooking Dor to sleep for the night. Cleverly, I'd stolen several items of clothing from a clothesline and tied them together to form a quilt.

I suppose that's why her body unconsciously curled into mine. She was cold.

And I hate that it bothers me.

Paedyn shifts in her sleep, pulling the makeshift blanket I've crafted farther over her small frame. I pull back, unwilling to let her take the whole thing.

Unfortunately for us, Dor's weather is sweltering in the day and frigid at night, neither of which conditions we're prepared for.

Still unconscious, she pulls back, but the chain securing our legs together prevents her from getting any further.

If she were awake, she'd huff and mutter something about my annoyance. Since she's asleep, however, her body's natural inclination is to seek warmth.

So soon enough, more silver hair is itching my nose.

I swat at it once again, but not without sneezing.

A moment later, the silver head of hair that was innocently lying on my chest shoots upward, her hands reaching for weapons I've emptied from her pockets.

When she realizes it's only me, and that she's lacking her usual dagger, she huffs and lays back down — as far as our constraints allow.

"Your morning breath is rancid."

"Good morning to you too, Gray."

"I wouldn't exactly call it good. We don't have any food."

I smirk. "I would have stolen us something, but it's particularly hard when I'm chained to you."

Paedyn practically growls. "And whose fault is that?"

"Yours, really, since you keep trying to run away."

She mutters what's mostly unintelligible below her breath, although I pick out a few colorful words.

Paedyn finishes out her rage session by untying a shirt from our makeshift quilt and throwing it at me. "Put on a shirt."

The cloth hits my face with surprising force, and I shrug it on before she can start to pelt me with anything else.

She releases a breath. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me? For putting a shirt on?" I can't help my lips curving into an arrogant grin.

At this, paedyn unties another shirt from the quilt and chucks it at my head. I duck, even though it wouldn't have hurt. While I'm doing that, however, she manages to unthread four new pieces of clothing and hurls them one by one at me.

"You're ruining our blanket, darling." I catch one before it can hit my eye and fling it back with such intensity that she's nearly knocked off her feet.

As I begin untying the quilt myself, she says, "And you're participating."

"You started it." I can't help the childlike humor of my voice. This reminds me of fighting with Kitt in the palace, years ago. "And I plan to finish it."

Paedyn and I pelt some poor merchant's balled up clothing at one another, each of us ducking and rolling to avoid being hit. When one soars just over her shoulder, she snatches it, unfurling it in the process, and begins whipping my upper body.

Although it doesn't hurt whatsoever, the stamina in which she does so is impressive. I make a grab for it, but she's too quick. Ducking beneath my arm, she uses the shirt sleeves to tie my hands behind my back.

Grinning at her handiwork, she circles around me. "Looks like I win."

"I wasn't aware that it was a competition." I pull at the confines on my wrists. They're snug, but the material is thin enough that I'm sure I can escape. After I'm sure of my strength, I yank apart my hands with muscles burning, ripping through the fabric. "But nevertheless," I breathe, dropping the tatters of the shirt, "I do not lose." I take two steps back, causing the chain between us to send her toppling to the rooftop, and join her. Much more gracefully, I might add. Then, mimicking her tone of voice, I huff, "Looks like I win."

"I hate you."

"It's funny how you always say that," I murmur, helping her to her feet, "while staring at my lips."

"Ah, yes. Picturing them buried six feet below the earth so that they can't annoy me with any more obnoxious comments."

"I'm flattered that you want to bury me at all."

She huffs, frustrated and flushed. Paedyn tries to separate us with distance, but I pull my leg back, forcing both her and the chain to retract backwards.

"I'll punch you."

"I don't doubt it."

"Why risk it, then?"

"Because I love having your hands all over me."

Instead of throwing fists, Paedyn pulls one of her signature moves and knees me in the groin.

I stagger in pain, and she grins to herself. "My knee," she says, "isn't nearly as nice as my hands."

Through I grimace, I say, "Just as pretty, though."

She glares at me through silver eyelashes. The sun is beginning to rise above Dor, and it's dousing her in light that only amplifies her beauty.

"You can't be serious."

"About what?"

"Flirting with me after I what I just did."

"I'd flirt with you on my deathbed, darling." I offer up a smile, even though I'm still in pain. "Even if you were the one who was causing it."

"I plan to."

I meet a pair of fiery blue eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try."