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was becoming more and more attracted to this wild woman.
    “I think it's time to take Duke for his walk.” And clear my mind , he added to himself.
    She looked out the window. “In that weather?”
    “Why not? It's not like I haven't been out in the snow before.”
    She smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking but said nothing and returned to her book. It irked him that she seemed to know so much about him—or rather, enough about him to know how to taunt him.
    The wind was bitter cold outside, but the walk in the woods cleared his mind and cooled his body. He laughed at himself. He’d retreated to the woods to escape other people, to be a hermit and devote himself to his studies without the distraction of others. Now he desired her company because he’d found someone who understood him better than any human ever had.
    When he returned from his walk, Ranealya was standing at his desk, leaning on her uninjured leg. She was reading his notes again.
    His jaw tightened, and he swept the pieces of paper up in his arms. If his notes fell into the wrong hands, he was a dead man. “Do you mind not prying into my personal things?”
    She cocked her head to the side, not the least bit embarrassed that he’d caught her. “I always read them when you're not here.”
    Perhaps he’d formed his opinion of her company too quickly. The last thing he wanted was a snoop. “That will remind me to lock them away every time I leave the room then.”
    She laughed again, irritating him even more, and sat in her chair at the table. “If you have questions, perhaps I can answer some of them.”
    After straightening his papers, he sat behind his desk and scribbled a reminder to himself to secure his notes. “I've seen where that gets me—on the wrong side of your foul temper.”
    “Am I always that disagreeable?”
    He removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Not always.”
    She leaned back in her chair, her lips pursed tightly together. Now he felt like the one being studied. He tried to ignore her, but prickles of sweat formed at the base of his neck.
    At last, she broke the silence. “The word you're having trouble translating is ‘sepharium’. There is no human equivalent for it, mainly because you humans don't know of its existence.”
    Gregor knocked over the inkwell. The thick liquid seeped across the papers on his desk, and he struggled to remember the simple spell to clean it up in his excitement. “Sepharium, you say?” He wrote the word down in his notes. “What exactly is sepharium?”
    The corners of her mouth curled up, reminding him of a cat that had cornered a mouse and was trying to decide how long to play with it before eating it. “A stone,” she replied after a moment, obviously enjoying the control she had over the conversation.
    “A stone? What kind of stone? What does it look like? What are its properties? Where can I find it?”
    “Why should I tell you?”
    Gregor threw his quill across the room, narrowly missing her shoulder. Always teasing him. Always giving him a hint of what he wanted and then turning it against him. He dug his fingers into his hair to resist the urge to wring her neck. He’d always prided himself on being calm and rational, never letting his feelings get the better of him. Then she came into his life.
    “So you can feel emotions—other than embarrassment, that is.” Her voice remained smooth and low, and his fingers relaxed in response to it.
    “What kind of game are you playing with me, Ranealya?”
    “I'm not quite sure yet.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching him with concern. “Have I pushed you too far?”
    He slid down the back of his chair. “Perhaps.” He stared at the ceiling and tried to collect his thoughts.
    She was smiling when he lifted his head. “No, I haven't pushed you too far yet.” Then she laughed again. “But I like playing with fire.”
    She pushed away from the table, her attitude becoming