Quinlan didn't answer right away.
The sounds of the battlefield drifted up around them. Distant shouting. The clatter of metal. The steady hum of mana strained to its limits below.
Then he extended his hand.
Ria paused.
Her gaze dropped to it, then lifted to his face, then fell back again. When she took it, her grip was a little too fast.
His hand was warm. Solid. Steady.
Her shoulders locked as she observed.
'This is fine. Completely fine. Very normal. Why is his hand like that? Why is everything about this man built like it's unfair on purpose?!'
Those thoughts were something the girl would take with herself to the grave, she decreed inwardly. Many of the more observant girls were grinning at her slyly.
"I'm glad to have you," Quinlan said.
Hearing his words of acceptance, heat climbed up Ria's neck and settled in her face. She looked away at once with her lips pressed tight, ears burning as Felicity squinted at her with open suspicion.
