35. Onora
Chapter 35
Onora
O nora woke to the morning sun, a pair of green eyes staring at her like she was the only thing that existed in the world.
Then she heard the loud and obnoxious clanking of kitchenware.
“Is that?—”
“I think Tannin wants us to wake up and come down for breakfast,” Dryston said with a chuckle.
The sound sent her lower stomach fluttering, and she hid her face in his chest again, afraid he’d see every tender thought now racing through her mind.
Neither made a move to leave. He’d fucked her over and over again throughout the night. The frenzy of it left her sore and aching. She needed a reprieve, but still her body craved his. His every touch and caress had felt like touching a raw nerve and igniting it with a fire of passion.
More clanking sounded through the floorboards and she groaned.
“Should we help him with breakfast?” she asked.
Dryston nodded, taking a lock of her hair and tucking it behind her ear.
The way that made her chest ache wasn’t good. The sooner he left for The Darkened City, the better. She didn’t need to catch feelings for him.
She rolled out of bed at the thought, grabbing a towel from the washbasin and scrubbing herself down before putting her clothes on. She turned to see Dryston watching her with appreciation as he buttoned his shirt and she turned away, unable to stop the grin that slid across her face. Maybe she could enjoy just this—this morning, this last bit of time together. Then she’d lock it away like a keepsake.
Yeah, she really needed him to leave.
She’d seen his look in the forest, the morning after. Like the realization of what they’d done had hit him.
She knew regret when she saw it.
She practically fled down the stairs, desperate to have someone else present to help break up her insanity. She came to the kitchen, breathless, to see Tannin aggressively scrambling eggs.
“Good morning,” he said with a lofty air.
She groaned inwardly.
“Need any help?” she asked.
He shook his head, gesturing for her to sit as Dryston came in and Tannin looked him over, lips pouting.
“Good morning, Tannin,” Dryston said, sheepish.
Tannin narrowed his eyes. “I’m glad you’re having a good morning.”
Onora decided to ignore that statement and instead grabbed the newspaper from the table. It had been ages since she’d gotten her hands on a copy of The High Flyers —a gossip page from Lesern, that somehow found out every sordid detail of obscure situations. Usually, she didn’t care for it at all. Today she just wanted anything to keep her from engaging with Tannin’s madness.
Lord of Shadows still missing as Hunters scramble to find the one responsible for heinous attacks on farmlands.
She swallowed. Dryston had been trying so hard to garner a better reputation for himself and for demons. How far would this set them back? She glanced up to see him chatting amicably with Tannin, who was trying, and failing, to ignore the demon’s charm. Dryston picked up a knife and began cutting vegetables, engaging him in story after story easily.
Onora couldn’t deny that Dryston had a gravity to him. Maybe everything she felt for him was nothing more than that. Maybe it was natural and inevitable that she’d be nursing some faint blush of feelings for him.
He was—aggravatingly—impressive. He’d taken over as ruler so young. He was fair to her, even when he didn’t need to be—even when honor shed the burden of that guilt from him.
He was good. Inarguably so.
How had she ever thought he could be behind those attacks?
He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink and then he halted, staring at her with wonder, a soft smile spreading over his face, and that’s when she realized she was smiling, too. Like a godsdamned idiot. On display for anyone to see.
And she couldn’t stop.
This wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t. He would go back to The Darkened City and find a wife—or didn’t demons call it a mate? Have a brood of kids with her and be a wonderful ruler. Onora’s face and name would pass from his memory like grains of sand out to sea. She would be someone that he’d had a wild time with, that he’d been attracted to passionately for a moment and nothing more.
She feared she’d remember him on her deathbed. And not just the perfect caresses, or the way he studied her pleasure like it were his vocation. No, instead she’d remember this. The way he’d looked at her like she was worth something.
Worth anything.
Are you okay?
The memory flashed behind her eyes, and they shuttered closed.
They’d been fighting the void creature outside Evolis. She’d been cornered, holding her ground, realizing that she would die. Then he came in and tackled her, blocking her from any blows by the beast. He would have died. Surely he had to have known he would die to save her. Enid had distracted it, pulling the fight to her, and that’s the only reason they both survived.
But he’d saved her.
He’d covered her body with his, ready to take the blows and die to protect her.
Why had he done that? He owed her nothing. She’d been brusque at best with him, nasty at worst. She’d justified it because he was a demon. Because his kindness had to be an act. A facade.
But it wasn’t.
It was who Dryston was. He would use his body as a shield to protect anyone who needed it.
And what’s worse? It hadn’t stopped there. He’d seen her later that night, in the hall, and his hand had brushed a stray lock out of her face, concern—true concern—lining every corner of his face as he asked her that haunting question.
“Are you okay?”
Because no one had ever asked her that. She was unflappable, indomitable. She was always fine. And if she wasn’t, they danced around it until she was. She had to be strong—for everyone else.
“Are you okay?”
The tenderness and care of those words had single-handedly wrecked her. She’d hated him for it. He’d found the only chink in her armor, her only vulnerability. It had been a pricking wound that opened her up, bleeding her out like a flood.
She blinked away an odd moisture in her eyes and swallowed a foreign lump in her throat. He cared. And she couldn’t pretend it was special for her. She saw the way he looked at Tannin and others and had helped that little girl. It’s who he was. Maybe that was better. He would always be that way regardless of who he was interacting with.
She wanted to fall toward him like gravity. She wanted to always be near someone so safe.
But she couldn’t. His home was in the Shadow Realm and hers was ...
She didn’t know where. But not there. Not with him.
“You and Onora ... ?” Tannin let his voice trail off, his brows pinched painfully high as he looked at Dryston, his voice bringing her out of her reverie.
Dryston swallowed. “I’m ... I'm sorry. I knew how you felt and I still?—”
Tannin raised a hand. “I understand.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll write a lament.”
Dryston patted his back, giving his shoulder a tight squeeze. “That’s probably the healthiest way to handle it.”
Tannin nodded, then left the room, grabbing his lyre on the way out. Dryston brought two plates of eggs, potatoes, and vegetables to the table and slid it over to her.
“You two are good friends,” she said, taking a bite.
Dryston shrugged. “He’s a nice guy.”
Tannin’s voice rose outside, beautiful and cold, singing the lament of a woman who ripped his heart out. Onora groaned and Dryston chuckled.
“Even if he doesn’t have the firmest grasp on reality,” he said.
She grinned, eating the breakfast and savoring these last moments together. He’d be leaving today. She was a little surprised he was still here, but she wouldn’t complain.
She should say something—anything, about their time together. That she didn’t still hate him. Though she supposed he knew that well enough from the last two nights with him.
“Onora ...” Dryston started, giving her a long, searching look.
“Yes?” she asked hastily, wanting him to say anything, to voice anything that was between them.
They didn’t have the chance. Tannin’s singing stopped and he rushed through the door holding a letter addressed to Onora. She took it, looking down at the seal.
The Hunter’s Guild.
Her blood ran cold.
When she opened it, though, it was Jackson’s handwriting.
Ornery,
I hope this letter finds you alive and well. You told me long ago about Tannin and I haven’t breathed a word to anyone else. But I want you to know that the commander has called off the bounty on both your heads. He realized that you’re not to blame and wants to talk to you. If you’re interested, meet me at midnight by the border bridge. Just you and I to talk.
Love,
Jackson
That odd lump returned, and she swallowed it down again. They weren’t being chased anymore. Their names had been cleared and she could return home.
She had a home now.