16. Reyla
16
REYLA
I remained in my suite for the rest of the day, eating the meals Lord Briscalar brought me, avoiding his gaze that was too full of questions. He knew I’d escaped my room and made my way to the top of the ship just in time to see Merrick fling someone overboard, though I didn’t believe any of them realized how I’d escaped. Let them think I could wield enough magic to unlock my door.
Pacing allowed me to think, so I stalked back and forth across my suite. Farris followed me at first, but he eventually got bored and climbed onto the sofa to nap.
I slipped into my bedroom, locked the door, and practiced with a stick I pretended was a sword. I’d held my own during raids from the fortress, but I wasn’t the sharpened warrior like Tempest.
But with a blade . . .
I grabbed one from the closet and threw it, over and over, at the back of the door, hitting the ding I’d selected each time. Few could best me in a knife-throwing contest, something we’d done at the fortress bar to make time fly faster. Nothing tasted sweeter than the whistle of the air after I threw my blade, followed by the thwack when I hit my target squarely.
I also practiced with my magic, though I wasn’t making much progress. The only thing I seemed able to do other than light up my finger and shoot fiery bolts at the water outside my porthole window was will the blade scars in the back of the door from showing. Were they gone? I couldn’t tell. At least I could no longer see or feel them. I hoped no one else could, either.
I did everything I could to avoid thinking about Merrick and our kiss.
“Tell me why he did it,” I finally said as Lord Briscalar was collecting my half-eaten dinner tray that evening. How could I be hungry when all I could think about was Merrick’s mouth on mine, the weight of his body pressing me into the blankets?
“Why who did what, my lady?” Lord Briscalar puttered with the tray, placing the silver dome over the plate and collecting my napkin from the small table, nudging the chair back beneath it.
“You know.”
He said nothing, turning toward the door with the tray in his hands.
“Why don’t you call me queen, like Merrick?” I assumed I could refer to my husband by his first name. The lord’s lack of a flinch or a sharp look in my direction confirmed my assumption .
“It’s merely a formality, and I do apologize.” He dipped his head in a quick bow. “Per court protocol, I’m supposed to call you my lady until you’re crowned.”
Crowned? Lovely. “Please tell me it’s a simple ceremony.”
“Never,” he gasped. “An occasion such as that requires pomp and celebration.”
I winced out a smile. “Merrick calls me queen.” I liked that better than fawn. While I felt timid too often on the inside, I projected a solid front. I was more the wildfire Lore had named me.
“That’s his right, of course,” the lord said. “As our king, he can do whatever he pleases.”
“Such as toss sailors over the side of the ship? I didn’t miss that the man was bound.”
“He tried to kill the king. He could’ve harmed you as well.” Lord Briscalar’s eyes widened with fright. “When he discovered who’d tampered with the boom, the king had no choice but to take quick, decisive action.”
Since behavior like that reminded me too much of my father, I huffed. “No trial first?”
“Would you give your attempted murderer a trial if you caught him in action?” he asked with lifted eyebrows.
“Probably not. I can be as ruthless as anyone else.” Especially those in my family. They called my brother the Beast for a good reason. If I’d discovered a sailor had tried to kill me, would I have acted in the same way?
Yes.
“You’ll discover our king is equally ruthless,” the lord said. “ This isn’t the first time he’s had to act swiftly, and it will not be the last.”
“How does he feel about it?” I asked, my head tilting as I studied his face.
“You’ll have to ask him. It’s not my place to say, though I assume if he felt a twinge, it swiftly departed.”
Also like my brother. Merrick hadn’t come across as brutal, but I didn’t know him well. I doubted he’d show that side of his personality to a new bride.
“Is there anything else I can get you, my lady?” Lord Briscalar strode toward the door.
“No, thank you.”
“Will you be taking a walk on the deck this evening for a bit of fresh air?” His disapproving gaze slid down my leathers. “I could help you don something . . . more appropriate.”
I looked down at my scuffed, well-loved outfit. “I used to battle beasts in this.”
“And it shows,” he said in a blustery voice. “But may I say that you looked quite delightful earlier. I could tell the king was pleased by your appearance in the gown he created.”
Pleasing the king was this lord’s first duty. I needed to remember that.
“If I go up on deck, I promise to change.” I had no intention of going up on deck where I might run into Merrick. Or Lore, for that matter. When I met him . . . I didn’t want to remember the feelings that had churned through me, that still flipped around inside me when I pictured his face. I needed to focus on Merrick, my husband, not my husband’s bodyguard.
“Very well, my lady.” With that, the lord opened the door .
“Do not lock me inside again.” My voice came out sharper than the blade I’d flung at the back of my bedroom door for over an hour.
“Not unless the king makes that specific request,” he said brightly, carrying the tray into the hall and magically shutting the door behind him.
I gave him a moment before testing the knob, finding it unlocked. Good.
However, someone had tried to kill the king today.
I locked the door on the inside, adding a touch of magic, though I wasn’t sure it would hold for long or keep anyone out.
Farris padded behind me, into the bedroom.
I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. While I didn’t want to delve into what happened with Merrick, I wasn’t the kind of person to ignore things. I’d consider it rationally in my mind, give what happened perspective, and put it aside.
The bed felt soft beneath me, and it was funny how quickly I’d become used to such comfort. This bed, like the one I’d slept in at Lydel Court, felt nothing like the rough wooden cot with its thin mattress I’d slept on at the fortress. My gaze lingered on the ceiling, tracing along the hewn wooden beams supporting the deck overhead, but my thoughts flew far from here.
Merrick's kiss dangled in my mind, a haunting mix of sensation and emotion that refused to let me free. His kiss should’ve been easy to ignore. I should dismiss my reaction as a distraction from the pain, from the loss of the man I’d loved, but it clung to me as well as my leathers.
My lips still tingled as if he’d just now pressed his mouth against mine. They’d seared away any thought of distance, of the propriety I thought I’d find with the kind, somewhat sweet-mannered king.
There’d been something more to our kiss, something dangerous in his touch. He’d kindled a spark inside me that flared to life, telling me my heart hadn’t died along with Kinart. Even as heat pooled low in my belly and a treacherous thrill wound through my veins, his face flashed in my mind, bringing with it a fresh wave of guilt. It buried the desire I’d felt with my new husband.
The betrayal was sharp and clarifying. How could I feel like this, want like this when I was still in love with someone else? What kind of woman ached for a man she’d just met?
Farris hopped up onto the bed. He circled a few times before curling into a ball beside me, tucking his snout beneath his bushy gray tail. His eyes lagged before closing, and even when I stroked his soft fur, he didn’t stir.
Tugging my hand back, I rested it on my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, reaching for the thread of a memory to pull me back to what I’d lost. The warmth, the laughter, everything that had been pure and good in my life. It had been much more than physical with him; Kinart had been my best friend, my first love, the man who’d made me believe in a future where we could be happy. A future that was stolen from us both.
How could I let that slip away as if it was nothing?
As I lay there, letting my guilt churn through me, the grief began to slide from my grasp like fabric fraying, threads loosening one by one. Unraveling like the image of his face I could barely hold onto.
The memories, once so vivid, were beginning to fade rather than remain bright. Pain had become my constant companion but somewhere between holding him in my arms as he died, to scattering his ashes, and to running from the fortress to start a new life, the pain of my loss had started to drift away.
This terrified me more than anything.
I pushed up from the bed, unwilling to lie here any longer. I needed something tangible to hold onto, and I knew where I could find it. Slipping from the bed, I slowly approached the closet. Too much pain waited there for me. I hadn’t dared face it yet.
For the first time, I felt nearly ready to look.
Time did heal, there was no doubt about that. But time also stole. A few memories here and there. A wisp of the pain. It slowly tugged more and more away until you woke up one day and realized you could breathe without your chest cracking, think of that person without breaking down in sobs.
I didn’t like it. I wanted to cling to Kinart, feel the pain of his loss forever.
“Why did he have to die?” I asked, my voice one big croak.
Farris looked up, his tail flopping on the bed, before he tucked his nose down again and slipped back into slumber.
I creaked open the closet door and stared at my pack. I’d carried only a few precious items away from the fortress, ones I couldn’t bear to leave behind. I hadn’t looked at them since.
I set the pack on the bed and crawled back onto the surface, crossing my legs and gnawing on my thumbnail while studying the simple canvas sack. Was I ready?
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready, but I felt I needed to look now .
After opening the flap with trembling hands, I dug deep to the bottom, past the odds and ends I’d brought with me from Lydel. At the bottom, my fingers reached the small leather pouch I’d hidden there months ago. I tugged it out and laid it on my lap, brushing my fingertip across the scuffed, soft leather surface. Undoing the simple knot, I slowly removed one item after another, placing them on the blanket beside me.
A necklace with a blue stone pendant that caught the light in a way that made it dance, a delicate chain that had never tangled, no matter where I stuffed it or how much I wore it. Fae-made, I’d bet. He’d bought it for me at a village fair during one of the times we’d snuck out from the fortress in our finest to walk through the market and dance until the stars faded from the sky. I could still picture him presenting it to me with a flourish, the laughter in his warm eyes as he’d teased me about my pink-stained cheeks. I hadn’t cared then. Those playful moments were more precious than anything, even more than the pendant I’d always worn after he’d secured it around my neck.
I removed it as his funeral pyre burned and stuffed it inside my pocket, then added it to the things he’d given me, packing them away forever.
Looking at it now reminded me of him blushing like a fool when he told me how it gleamed against my skin. How he’d traced his fingertip across it. How sweet his kiss had tasted as he’d slipped his hand around to the back of my waist and tugged me near. He’d kissed the tip of my nose and made me dance with him along with the villagers.
It hurt to see the pendant, but not as much as when I’d stuffed it in with the other things, hiding it from view.
And that was yet another betrayal.
I carefully picked up the worn book of poems, its edges softened from all the times he’d opened it. Kinart had adored these poems. Whenever we had a moment of peace, he’d gather me close, his breath warm against my cheek as I sat on his lap with my back to his chest. He’d read them aloud, his voice full of gentle inflections and quiet passion.
I’d enjoyed his enthusiasm more than the words themselves, though I’d pretended otherwise for his sake, letting him believe that I was as captivated by the lines as him.
Yet another betrayal, one I’d stabbed out with while he was still alive.
I traced my fingers across the cover, the worn fabric feeling like an old friend. Opening the front, I swallowed hard when the lavender flower I’d pressed between the pages as a memory of the first time we were together slipped out, falling on my lap. Lifting it by the stem, I spun it while letting my mind fall back.
I could still feel the warmth of the sun on my face, the soft rustling of the meadow grass as we’d laid together after, talking about everything and nothing, before he’d threaded this flower into my hair with a smile that reached deep into my heart and anchored itself there forever.
We were sixteen and maybe too young for what we did, but it had been wonderful. Virgins, we'd bumbled around, finding a way to do it. It wasn't anywhere close to perfect, but that time had meant everything to me.
Kinart had warmed me from the inside out, but he'd never ignited my fire in the way one simple kiss from Merrick had. And thinking that, realizing that, was an even worse betrayal than allowing it to happen.
There was only one more thing inside the sack, but I couldn’t bear to touch it. Not yet. Maybe never.
Kinart used to hide little notes where he knew I'd find them. Then he'd watch me with that silly, sappy smile on his face I'd adored, waiting for me to find them in the most unlikely places. Under my pillow. Inside the front pocket of my favorite leathers. And one time, he’d somehow gotten the kitchen staff to put one beneath my breakfast plate on my tray. He’d sat beside me at the table, laughing and smirking before finally suggesting I peek.
Whenever I’d read one of his notes, he'd swoop me up after and reinforce his sweet words with kisses.
After he was killed, I found his last note in the aerie, tucked among my grooming gear.
Waiting. Forever waiting.
I hadn't dared read it. I’d hidden it away in this pouch and tried to forget it existed.
I should open it.
Read it.
But then I suspected I'd have to say a final goodbye.
I still wasn't ready.
I didn’t go up on deck. I packed up my precious things and stuffed the pack back into the closet. Then I stood by my open porthole and sucked in deep breaths of air with tears etching paths down my face.
Finally, when the moon started sliding toward the horizon, I dropped onto my bed and slept, my body curled around Farris.