Chapter 18
18
N one of the villagers made any disparaging remarks, but the braided updo left her all-too-curved ears on display. Aven felt each one of those stares and noted the myriad narrowed eyes as she passed. The silence was suffocating.
Cillian paid no mind to the reaction of the crowd slowly forming. Rather, he held out a hand to get her to stop and then tossed his reins to her, hopping down from horseback to address the villagers personally.
She took the time to look around, marking the proximity of the houses and the number of people on the street. Not that she thought any of the information would be useful to her. Her fight wasn’t with these people who wanted to eke out the best life possible for themselves and their families.
Her fight was with the monarchy who ordered their soldiers into her territory and slaughtered innocents. Like the people who had been hers to protect—and she failed.
Now she rode with their crown prince.
Her gelding dragged his front hoof through the dirt, eager to get going again. Cillian spent only a small amount of time here before he finished his business with another male who looked like he’d come out of the church. Once they finished their conversation, Cillian remounted his horse, and they rode to the opposite end of the village.
Within twenty minutes, he guided them away from the buildings and toward a small open space in the field. The grass turned to clover, and the babble of a stream grew louder with each step.
“I thought we’d stop here and have a little bite to eat, if that’s okay with you,” Cillian said at last. Whatever he’d spoken about in the village made lines form at the creases of his eyes.
“There’s no need for you to ask. You are the one in charge of things.”
Seeing him with his people, the way they clustered around him with open expressions and wide eyes, reminded her of the fact. They trusted him to lead them, and they all knew of his victory against her. She’d been sure of it.
Whether they knew her as a fallen princess or a spoil of war, Aven wasn’t sure.
“It pays to go out and let them see you,” Cillian explained. He stopped at the center of the clearing a few paces away from the stream and its clear water. “If I can bring a smile to their face and see what they need on the same trip, then I’ll do it. I’m sure you understand. And we’re here not because you have no choice but because I thought you would appreciate being out of the palace.”
Cillian dismounted and undid the straps of his saddlebag with deft fingers. From their depths, he drew out fresh fruit and hard cheese along with what looked like a fresh loaf of bread. Aven took her time before she dismounted and found her legs to be a little unsteady.
Too many hours of training and not enough time back in the saddle. She’d have to rectify the situation.
If Cillian noted the way she wobbled, he said nothing about it.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said as she left the reins loosely draped across her horse’s neck. “I’m not one of your people.”
“On the contrary.” Cillian turned to study her. “You are absolutely one of my people now, and I’m as responsible for you as I am for any of the others.”
She scuffed the toe of her boot against a particularly fluffy patch of clover. “I don’t want you to be. I preferred it when you were a distant figurehead.”
“You mean when I was someone you needed to cut off at the knees and make pay for every terrible thing you suffered,” he corrected.
“Yes. Exactly.” Aven refused to be embarrassed, either.
She hadn’t known any personal information about the fae in charge, but she’d known her hatred of them intimately, like a stain across her heart.
Cillian brought a small blanket out of the saddlebag and spread it on the ground between them. The horses were content to graze and appeared in no rush to get back to the stables. Cillian finished setting up their picnic breakfast before he stood back and gestured for her to sit.
The stream and the peace of the little clearing seemed to drown out her logic. That was her excuse, anyway, when she folded herself down on the blanket and grabbed a piece of hard yellow cheese.
“It’s something I admire about you, you know.” Cillian sat close enough for their knees to touch. “Your love for your people.”
Aven shook her head. “Please don’t act like we’re the same.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dare think we’re the same. But you are the type of person who would throw herself on the sword for others. I’ve seen it in you, and I’ve read it in the reports of your fierceness in battle. I like to think we’ve managed to get to a point in our own friendship where we can be real with each other. Right?”
He had to know about the Fae King’s decree, didn’t he? It was the only reason to be here with her. Trying to convince her he was a nice guy .
“I’m not comfortable with your scrutiny.” She shifted her weight, unable to get comfortable. “Not to mention your emotional analytics. You don’t know me, and we’re not friends.”
“Is it really hard to believe that I’d like to be friends? And I actually admire you?”
“Yes.” She answered as honestly as she could, although it might not be wise to be so brutal with him. “We are always going to be on opposite sides of the issue.”
Except it wasn’t quite true anymore.
Cillian flashed her a wide, open smile. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you? You’re not going to relent until I’m on my knees in front of you.”
As lovely as it might be to see such a powerful man on his knees, now wasn’t the time. Her facade of apathy may collapse if they kept up this way.
It didn’t matter how King Donal tried to maneuver her into choosing one of his sons. She’d hold out until the bitter end.
She might end up forced into a relationship, but she would not make it an easy process. She’d be no one’s toy.
“Where else would you go, then, since it’s unbearable to be here with me?” Cillian played with a strawberry, his long fingers turning the fruit with deliberate slowness. Aven found herself tracking the movement, the way the red juice stained his fingertips. “It seems to me you were out of options even before we brought you here.”
“Out of options because you killed my family.”
He only stared at her without blinking, and his face remained impartial when he leaned forward. “I will not apologize for it again. My hand didn’t wield the weapon.”
“You gave the orders,” she insisted, forcing herself to meet his intense gaze despite the way it made her pulse quicken.
“Which would not have been carried out if my father hadn’t agreed with me. Now, the peace treaty can be put in place. There will be no more fighting.”
She hated this argument, hated how his presence made her skin prickle with awareness even as grief and anger churned in her gut. They’d been over this before as well, too many times to count, until she wondered if she’d become a machine herself. Only capable of a few certain thoughts and movements and nothing else.
Aven set the hunk of cheese aside and groaned. The sound shifted into a sigh and disappeared entirely when Cillian moved. Faster than her eye could follow until his lips pressed against hers. He took her face in his hands, holding her gaze through the touch even when she reared back. Her teeth caught his bottom lip in defiance, but the small act of rebellion only made his fingers tighten against her temples. Fire blazed in his eyes, turning that steady gaze into something raw and hungry. Then he brushed his mouth to hers a second time, claiming the kiss, his tongue brushing against her lips. Her mind screamed to keep them sealed, but her body betrayed her.
Shock had her opening for him until his tongue swept in to tangle with hers. The taste of strawberries lingered as Cillian tilted his head to deepen the touch. His hands branded a path down the side of her neck, along her shoulder, toward the dip of her waist. Each touch scattered her thoughts further, made her forget why she shouldn’t melt into him.
Her senses slammed back when his fingertips tickled her hipbone, and she pulled back, more shocked at the wanting coiling in her belly than at his boldness.
So much more at herself than at Cillian. He stretched back. “I’m sorry. Aven, I’m sorry.”
He reached for her, and she pushed back, gulping down cooling air, wondering if she’d have to duck her head in the stream in order to get back to herself. She must be out of her mind. That was the only explanation.
“I moved too fast. I’ve just—” Cillian broke off, pushing his hands through his hair. Shifting so that he mimicked her posture with his long legs folded in front of them. There still wasn’t enough space between them.
Aven felt him on her skin like a brand, and her lips tingled.
“I’d hoped that one day we could put our rivalry aside, but I should have been more tactful,” he continued. He lifted his gaze to hers with a sort of hangdog remorse that Aven had to look away. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you want from me?” The words came out in a whisper.
“Honestly? I just want peace. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is peace.” Rather than focus on the kiss, he finally took a bite of the strawberry, but she was captivated.
She tracked every movement of his lips, tongue, teeth. And wondered about the kiss long into the night when she lay awake, dressed in silk. Aven swore she still tasted Cillian, a combination of masculinity and sweetness.
The kiss hadn’t been unwanted, exactly ; it had simply taken her by surprise. The speed at which he’d moved and the flash of desire inside of her, as sharp as a knife slicing through her belly? Those were a surprise as well.
She was awake when the door to her room slid open. When a shadow separated itself from the darkness and Roran perched on the foot of the bed, staring down at her with eyes that glowed like a predator’s in the darkness.
“So,” he began, knowing full well she watched him in return. “You liked kissing my brother. Did you?”