Chapter 27
27
“ T he people here do not hate you, Aven. They simply don’t know anything about you. They’ve been pumped full of horror stories about the war, and it’s affected their opinions about mortals in general,” Cillian said. “Once they get to know you, then they will care about you as much as I do. It’s guaranteed.”
She palmed the sun-warmed stone in her hand and sent it flying across the surface of the pond. It skidded and bounced three times before falling beneath the water with a final plunk. “I can live with their hatred, Cillian. I highly doubt the hundreds of thousands of people here are all going to get to know me enough to change their minds.”
She reached for another stone on the rocky bed near the edge of the water. Her mind returned again to the night before and the moment between her and Roran.
Why couldn’t she shake him?
Why did it matter?
“Then what’s bothering you?” Cillian stepped to her side, and when he sent his own stone flying, it skidded seven, eight, nine times before it dropped. “You’re keeping things from me, and that’s not the right way to start off our relationship.”
“Show-off,” she muttered.
He grinned at her. “I have had years of practice skipping stones. You are a relative newbie when it comes to the skill required.”
She’d never be as good as him with his dexterous hands, but she was determined to try. “It bothers me that they made those comments about my family,” she admitted.
“Because you know what happened with your father.”
“In part.” It hurt her to agree.
“No one expects you to be okay with things right away. It’s a lot to take in, especially after being told one thing your entire life. It’s a brand-new way to look at the world.”
For some reason, it bothered her how accommodating Cillian acted. The perpetual voice of reason. It would be better if he raged. If he yelled at her and told her to snap out of it because things were the way they were and no amount of moping would smooth things over.
Aven raged at herself for her emotions, but nothing changed. It didn’t matter how many dates Cillian took her on.
Today, he’d decided a picnic by the pond would be the perfect thing for them. He’d said nothing when she picked up her first stone and hurled it at the pond. Needing to see the way the water changed with the impact. Needing to know that something changed and she controlled it.
Everything else in her life was far outside of her control.
“Your father might not be a good man, but your past is behind you now.”
“I killed?—”
“In the past. You’re on the path to a new life, and because of your efforts, the war has ended.” Cillian rested his hands on her shoulders and bent to place a kiss on the top of her head.
She still hadn’t given him an official yes to the question of their engagement. They took one day at a time, and for all his efforts to woo her, Cillian never pushed.
Part of her appreciated that about him.
The other part hated it.
He was too perfect—too friendly, too understanding, too forgiving.
There should be more action. More discussions outside of this prolonged getting-to-know-you stage. Hell, they hadn’t even had their first fight yet. How could you get to truly know someone if you never argued with them?
She and Roran fought every time they were in close proximity to one another. And yet?—
He’d been kind when he found her in the garden the other day, when he’d seen her scars. No, kind wasn’t the right word. He’d been somber in the face of her vulnerability and understanding in exactly the way she needed. Without pity.
She hated to remember him the way he’d been that night with the wand because it brought her mind down paths she’d rather avoid. Paths where a future might actually be possible… but not with Cillian. With Roran.
The cold younger brother drew her with his wrath the same way Cillian did with his goodness. They were two sides of the same coin, and he had her hooked. Maybe it was the way he switched on a dime and kept her on her toes.
Had the confusion intoxicated her or Roran himself?
Growling, she clenched her hands hard enough for her tendons to strain.
“Where did you go?” Cillian squeezed her to get her attention.
Aven bent and took hold of another stone to break his hold on her. “I’m okay. I’m here,” she replied. “Lost in my head though.” She threw the stone with no finesse, and it shattered the clear surface of the pond and sank.
“Are you hungry? I brought some of your favorites with us. You loved the apple crumble with custard we had for dessert the other day. If you open the basket, you’ll find some.”
She wanted to laugh but knew if she let herself express anything, she’d end up crying. Cillian tried; his offer was genuine and sweet. How in the world could she shift her focus to apple crumble with custard and have everything else fall into place?
It made no sense. There were so many other things to think about and worry over, and he wanted her to eat.
“I’m not hungry.” She felt like a broken record.
“We can go somewhere else if you want.”
He’d put careful thought and planning into these dates he planned, and with each of them, she knew the bond between them grew stronger. Cillian was the best friend she hadn’t had since childhood. He listened to her, spoke to her, and yet always seemed to keep some integral piece of him at bay. Hidden behind an impenetrable barrier he wouldn’t allow her to pierce.
Aven didn’t take it personally.
She had the same barriers inside of her and the same secrets she kept. Her growing fascination with Roran, for one.
“This has been really great, thank you,” she murmured. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
The last thing Aven wanted to do was have Cillian think she didn’t want to spend time with him. She did nothing but spend time with him, and when she needed someone to bounce ideas off of, or get something off her chest, she turned to him.
Exactly the way he wanted since they first met.
She needed to figure out, truly figure out, what to do. Before it was too late. Before she said yes to Cillian and they progressed like a shooting star toward matrimony.
That was where they were headed. She felt it in her bones. Any more of these dates, and she’d cave like a straw hut. Cillian would wear her down with thoughtfulness. There were worse ways to be convinced of something; she knew it from experience.
Roran.
If she didn’t talk to him now, she’d lose her chance forever.
Marriage to Cillian wouldn’t be a bad thing. He proved it to her, showed her with his good deeds and the way he cared for the people here.
He showed her now when he took her hand in his and tucked her close to his side. As he made idle chit-chat to try and bring her back to the moment while not really minding how her mind had shot off in a different direction.
He carved time out of his very busy schedule as heir apparent to have these dates. He was a good man.
What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she jumping at this chance? A decent match, a fine partner who lived his life with humor and compassion, and an end to the war she’d dedicated her life to fighting.
Was something wrong with her?
She worried the inside of her cheek, bit down on her lip, too lost to do anything except assure Cillian that she’d see him for dinner.
He didn’t try to push her when he gave her a fleeting kiss on the lips.
Didn’t try to push her as to where she scurried off to in a hurry.
She had to find Roran.
This was a mistake, surely, Aven thought, as she jogged through the halls of the palace. What did she really know about him? Nothing. Only his temper and the prickly way he interacted with everyone.
Aven knew the way he fought. The way he’d started to hold himself back at the last minute when they sparred together to make sure she learned what to do and what not to do. She knew how he’d looked at her the other night and instead of taking her wand, he’d given it back to her, telling her to be careful.
He wasn’t in their workout space. She didn’t expect him to be, but it was one of the first places she thought to look. She’d never been to his room, or Cillian’s for that matter. Had never stepped foot in the private wing of the royal family before.
But she doubted Roran would be in his room.
He always seemed to find her when she was outside. Wouldn’t that be the best place to start her search rather than this? And how nice would it be to sneak up on him for once rather than the other way around?
Aven swallowed over a groan, halfway disgusted with herself and halfway excited for the hunt. Skills she’d buried since coming here dusted themselves off inside of her. She stalked her prey through empty rooms and out toward the gardens closest to the palace. She found only a few fae nobles lounging near the main fountain, and they looked at her as though she’d bothered them with her bumbling presence.
The sky grew darker overhead with night on the horizon, and soon the lanterns would burst to life without any help, illuminating the grounds in a golden glow.
She finally came across Roran near the base of a staircase leading up to the open doors of a second-story space. He crouched on the lowest step with a book hanging loosely from his hands and didn’t look up from it at her approach.
Aven skidded to a stop to catch her breath.
The flowers here were all varying shades of white. Like someone captured the stars, the moon, and turned their light into flower form. The blossoms in this garden, unlike many of the others, were large and each one of them in its prime. There were no signs of decline or brand-new buds ready to burst open.
“What do you want, little princess?” His voice came out low, rough, before he forced it into a drawl.
“I was looking for you.”
He slowly lifted his head, and those blue eyes speared her to the ground where she stood. Aven couldn’t lift her foot even if she wanted to, or her life depended on it. “Why?”
A single word spoken in a bored tone, but she knew she’d stoked his curiosity. Roran smiled in a way that did not extend up to his eyes.
“It’s about the other night,” she began, unclenching her jaw. If she was to do this, she had to get the words out before she lost her nerve.
Spearing an enemy through the gut? She could handle it. She could handle so much more than people gave her credit for. She’d handled her family’s deaths, hadn’t she? Being stolen away to this place and forced to parade in front of the royals like their toy for pure amusement.
Aven was completely capable of speaking to a man from the heart.
Or maybe she couldn’t. What kind of practice did she have with this kind of thing? Absolutely none.
“What about the other night? Or maybe you wanted to distract me while I’m reading.” He sounded as bored as he looked. “Either way, get to the damn point.”
She forced herself to shrug. “Let’s be honest. You’re not reading. You’re putting on an act because I don’t see any pictures on those pages.” She offered up the remark blandly.
Roran, mercifully, chuckled at her joke. “There is a lot you don’t know about me.”
Which was what she wanted to change. Aven shifted from foot to foot, and her chest swelled, heart whapping painfully against her ribs. The thought of going through with any engagement to Cillian, without talking to Roran first, didn’t sit well with her. She’d shoved the idea away for much longer than she would have normally done, but she was out of time now.
She blocked out everything else except for him. The night, her worries, her anxiety. Everything .
Roran stood in one fluid motion, his height forcing her to step back. His gaze burned despite his carefully controlled expression. “My brother is waiting for you, I’m sure.”
A long pause stretched between them, but rather than allowing herself to crumble in the quiet, Aven stood up straighter.
“I want to know—” she started.
Her chest clenched, and her next inhalation felt a little too difficult to draw into her body. Something was about to happen. She felt it in her blood and her bones. A gigantic shift and a step she’d be unable to take back.
“There’s something between us. And I’m not sure exactly what it is, but I feel it. I think you feel it too.”
Roran’s entire body went rigid. “Is that what you think? I feel something for you?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I believe so. There’s a palpable current between us.” She took a risk by stepping closer. Every inch she closed between them had the current she spoke about growing stronger until she felt it like a physical caress along her skin. “Maybe you hate me. Maybe you don’t. But I’d like to know. I can’t go through with any engagement until I talk to you.”
His eyes dropped to her lips before he jerked them away. “You’re basically my brother’s property. It’s the end of our connection, Aven,” Roran replied, his voice tight with something that turned her insides to soup. “I’m not sure what you’re even doing here.”
“I’m trying to talk to you. Apparently, I’m not doing a very good job.”
“This chat is unnecessary and annoying. Go back to Cillian, where you belong. Whatever you think is between us is nothing but an imagined scenario in your head.” His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Poor mortal.”
He launched an invisible punch to her gut, and it landed there. “You’re being wretched on purpose. Don’t you think I see when you’re playing a game and when you’re being serious?” He hadn’t moved away from her, either.
Not like there was anywhere to run unless he chose to climb the stairs to get away from her.
“Playing a game with you?” Roran stepped forward in a movement as smooth as velvet. His hair glowed underneath the stars above, the same color. The same inky coldness and alien power. “That requires interest. I have no interest in you besides what you bring to the table with the peace treaty. The sooner you understand, the better it will be for everyone. Resign yourself to your fate. You’ll get nothing out of me?—”
“Lies,” Aven interrupted. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”
“Nothing I care to explain to you. Now run along. It’s almost time for you to go to bed, isn’t it? To tuck yourself in and dream those pretty little dreams of yours?”
“Fine.” Her chest rose slightly, breathing hitched. “If that’s the way you want it to be. I’ll have to take your word on it. My mistake.”
“Little princess, you certainly do know how to put your foot in your mouth. The best thing for you to do is to stop with these fantasies,” he crooned, his eyes trailing down her body. “Even if the prospect of me between your legs is so much more enticing than Cillian.”
His filthy mouth didn’t bother her anymore. She’d gotten used to it and expected it.
He crossed his arms over his chest, muscles straining with tension. “Anything else you want to talk to me about?”
“No.” She forced herself to shake her head rather than slap him. Knock some sense into him, or rage and insist he tell her the truth. Roran held himself back. She was sure of it.
She didn’t need to stand here and take his abuse, however.
“We’re done.”
Aven spun on her toes and strode away without a backward glance, the sound of Roran’s laughter trailing behind her.