Chapter 13
CHAPTER
13
(Nineteen Days Remain)
There he was, leaning against the large oak tree beside the tavern as I approached, and the sight of him took my breath away. I assessed him fondly from a distance. Admiring the utterly casual state of him. It was a pleasant vision to see him so relaxed. Trace always seemed uptight and tense. Probably comes with the territory of serving in the Kingsguard. This time, he seemed at ease. I was half tempted to not even approach, but that feeling that had called me back to him all along was now burning stronger than ever.
He looked up as I approached on Rain, and I blushed at the small, almost unnoticeable smile in my direction. Relief washed over me with the confirmation that he was happy I had returned. When I stopped by his side, he stepped up to help me off my horse—not that I needed it. Another protective gesture that I allowed with no complaint.
Our faces were positioned closely as I looked up into those intense eyes I had missed, noting the strong cleft in his handsome chin.
“Miss me?” I questioned.
“Like the eels miss darkness,” he replied teasingly.
It did him no favors to remind me of the line he had crossed, and I recollected the promise of payback I had made him.
“What’s the plan?” I tried not to sound overly eager. I was desperate to be alone with him again, but I exercised what little self-control remained and waited for his answer.
“I was thinking, a quick bite to eat and then we ride to our destination. It’s a surprise, so don’t even try to interrogate me.”
My interest was more than piqued by the proposition.
After lunch, Rain and I followed Alcar and Trace. He had warned the ride would take a bit and to yell if I needed a break. I took note that he did not have a large pack attached to his horse like I did mine, and was quickly becoming self-conscious that I had assumed too boldly how much time we’d spend together.
An hour or so passed, and the verdant foliage and russet underbrush of the surrounding forest blurred together like watercolors. As we increased our speed, the once gentle breeze now whipped into a frenzy, and I narrowed my eyes to keep focused on Trace.
When we finally slowed, confusion set in. I did not see any visible shelter. Not an inn, a house, or even a tent. I would have settled for a tent over nothing. I dismounted and began to meander about, seeking any signs of why we were there. Trace stood impatiently underneath a massive tree and ushered me to his side with a gesture.
“Look up,” he said with a twinge of excitement I hadn’t yet heard.
To my utter surprise, above me was a small tree house. Hidden by thick leaves and branches, you had to be standing right underneath to take notice of it.
“How did you find this? What is this?” I questioned in amazed curiosity.
“This is a haven. Left behind from the war.”
My eyes widened. “Like a safe house?”
“Basically,” Trace confirmed. “These are scattered throughout the land and served as a place of refuge for the military when they needed it.”
He reached up, untying a rope that unfolded into a ladder and created an entrance.
He pointed at it. “Ladies first.”
I gave him an uneasy smile but withheld any judgment. I had climbed trees in my youth, but had never been inside any kind of treehouse or otherwise. When I got to the bottom of the structure, I pushed up on a flat door that opened into the main—and only—room. I was grateful I hadn’t worn a dress, even though I toyed with the idea, thinking it might have been flattering for my figure; something I had rarely considered before Trace.
I glanced around the space, taking it in before watching Trace make his way up through the same door on the floor. It was a bit amusing trying to see someone of his size fit through that tiny opening, but he made it work, nonetheless.
On one side was a small stovepipe, a shelf for storage, a small table with two chairs. I took special note of the only bed, no bigger than the one at the inn. The space was plain in every sense of the word. No frills, decoration, or non-necessities. Which made sense given he had said it was a military haven, not some kind of retreat.
Trace waved his hand to encompass the space.
“It’s not much, but it’s why I needed a week. I couldn’t bring you here in its prior condition. Pretty sure you would have killed me.”
I tried to imagine a condition any plainer than this.
“Me? I’m still unsure you’re not the one who’s going to do the killing. Given the fact that you’ve brought me to the middle of nowhere, as far as I can tell. No one would even hear me scream.”
I realized the unintentional innuendo as soon as the words left my mouth, and Trace’s devious smile was a confirmation of that.
“I was tired of the males in the bar gawking at you. Figured we could enjoy some privacy. Plus, I have some other surprises up my sleeve. That is, if you play your cards right.”
“They were not gawk—” he cut off my protest with a kiss.
Grabbing my chin and pulling me into him, suddenly I didn’t care where we were because this was what I had longed for. This was worth the wait of every agonizing day apart. He pulled away first, leaving me breathless and hazy.
“Privacy is good,” I admitted, defeated.
Trace helped me bring up my pack and find places for my things alongside his, like we both lived here. He didn’t have a lot, a few changes of clothing, more weapons than I cared to take note of, and a leather-bound book that caught my attention. I was almost certain it was a sketchbook, and I was going to make it my mission to see what was hidden inside of it.
He had already stocked the place with food and water. The only thing eating away at me was the absence of a washroom. I didn’t want to upset him by making mention of it; so, I kept the concern to myself for now.
It was only a short time before the twilight hour arrived and Trace encouraged us to eat again before he unveiled the next surprise. He was always insistent about eating, drinking water, and taking care of oneself. I don’t know that I’d ever get used to this rigid and regimented behavior that was ingrained in him. On one hand, I felt cared for, and maybe a little controlled, but in a way that I found oddly satisfying.
When darkness veiled the area, he led us by lantern light a small distance from the haven. When we approached the destination, my breath hitched.
Before me was a small body of water, blanketed in moonslight. But it wasn’t the light that stole my breath. It sparkled, actually shimmered, as if lit from within. I had only ever read about springs like this. They were rare, so much so that I had just accepted that I’d likely never see one in person.
From my studies, I knew they were unique hot springs, and that the minerals in the pool created the luminescence that I was now enamored with.
“Surprise,” Trace said nonchalantly, with a smirk I could faintly detect in the dim glow radiating off the water.
Next thing I knew, he began stripping down. I watched as he removed his shirt, as if in slow motion, revealing that body that I craved. My eyes trailed down the length of his tattoo. Without a second of hesitation or doubt, he removed his pants, unveiling a fully naked Trace in all his glory.
There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment on his face, and I envied the confidence. My mouth watered with desire as he strode casually to the edge of the pool and lowered himself into the steamy abyss of the water.
“Just in case you wanted me to prove it, there are no eels.”
He pushed himself back from the edge, casually wading deeper. Waiting for me to join him.
A bath sounded truly amazing, and I was grateful to have fewer concerns about a washroom knowing we had this nearby. Relief set in, and I made my way to the edge of the water where I was certain Trace could see me. If he was going to give me a show, then I was going to do the same.
I slowly began undressing in front of him, removing each item piece by piece until there was nothing remaining, all the while, holding him with my gaze. I could see him lick his lips in anticipation. I stood there for a moment longer, naked, moonslight reflecting off my pale skin, letting him appreciate the sight of me. Letting the want build between us.
I stepped gently into the pool, lowering myself into the warmth, trying to stay focused on him. I had to admit it was hard, being distracted by the magic of the water as I was. Magic was the only word to describe the intoxicating beauty of the shimmer, swirls, and glow. The comfort of the hot spring only made it that much more enjoyable. The pool of water wasn’t very deep, making it easy to wade in some areas and stand in others.
Trace made his way closer to me and, despite the heat of the spring, I could feel goosebumps all along my skin that hovered above the waterline. I tried to think of something cheeky to say, to taunt him with, but before I could, Trace said huskily, “Don’t speak. I missed this.”
His lips crashed into mine with more intensity than the last time we were together. Our bare bodies intertwined naturally as I wrapped both my legs around his waist, feeling his excitement pressing at my entrance. I was frantic and greedy, intoxicated by every sweep of his tongue against mine.
The warmth of the water cradled our bodies, making me tilt my head back toward the night sky, and he ran his lips across my throat with fervor. He gathered my hair at the nape, fisting it in his hands, pulling my face every which way to kiss all parts of me. My lips, throat, ears, neck, shoulders. I could wait no longer to feel him and as he palmed my breasts greedily, I let out a pleasurable gasp of his name, “Trace!”
He answered when I called for him. With one fierce thrust, he was now inside me, consuming me. He pushed me against the edge of the pool as our bodies writhed. His mouth grazed my nipples, gently, teasingly, and then forcefully with small bites. The back and forth of soft pleasure and pain was indescribable.
This time would be different; I knew how to find my pleasure. To exert self-control and release at the same time. All this time apart had built up to this, and it did not take long for us to find our climax, together. We stayed there in the water, still entwined, chests rising and falling together. As we caught our breath, I could not possibly imagine myself anywhere else than in his arms.
When we returned to the haven house some time later, I was tired. The weight of the day and reuniting with Trace in every way had brought me to a state of exhaustion. We dried off, changed into comfortable loose garments to sleep in, dimmed the lanterns, and crawled into the bed.
Cradled in the nook of Trace’s warm chest, I let myself relax and listen to the soft rustling of the wind and trees like a lullaby. Trace leaned in and whispered, “I have another surprise.”
My eyes were heavy, and I didn’t think I could handle anything more today. Trace sat up, and behind him, near the headboard, he tugged a tiny rope that led to the roof above us. A small skylight opened, creating a view straight to the doorway of the Gods, to the stars. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.
It was magnificent; the view of bright twinkling lights, but none were as bright as the three moons of Demir. Trace ran his finger gently along the back of my ear; I had forgotten about my tattoo!
“I was going to save this for tomorrow night, but then I saw this new addition.” He smirked.
“Oh, yeah,” I replied bashfully. I did not want to talk about Versa, otherwise I might not be able to keep the emotions at bay. Instead, I coyly asked, “Do you like it?”
“There’s not much I don’t like when it comes to you,” he said, nibbling on the tip of my earlobe. I could feel the throbbing ache of desire beginning, but I could not let this go there again. Once was enough this evening; I was still recovering.
“It’s amazing. The view, thank you.”
Luckily, Trace took the hint that I was not going to survive a second round and relaxed back into the bed. We lay there in silence for a long while. My eyelids were heavy as Trace twirled the ends of my hair in his fingers. Such an odd thing to witness, knowing how far I’d come in breaking through that hard exterior from when we first met.
Trace reminded me that if I awoke and he wasn’t beside me, not to worry, he was likely just sitting in the chair or had made his way outside to relax beneath the tree. Yes, old habits die hard, I remembered.
Before he’d let me succumb to sleep, he nudged me playfully. “Cress, five questions?”
Before I could protest he said, “Nothing too difficult, I know I may lose you here any minute.”
I couldn’t fathom how he was still wide awake and I was on the verge of letting sleep take me. I nodded in agreement, unable to deny him almost anything he asked. He proceeded to make his way through a handful of light questions, and to make it easy on my tired mind, he provided them all and we both just answered.
Small insignificant things like our favorite season, favorite meal, and I recollected drifting off into slumber as I told him my new favorite scent was him.
When I woke in the morning, Trace was not there. But this time I wasn’t alarmed. I dressed myself, unaware of what the day would entail, and found my attention drawn once more to the leather sketchbook sitting on the table. I seized the opportunity and began to thumb through it. The whole front half were drawings of landscapes. Trace may not have ever shown anyone, but he was quite gifted.
They were made of charcoal, devoid of color, but I could still imagine the sunsets he had seen, the mountaintops and riverbends; many wondrous places. Signs he was well-traveled, and I was struck with a jealousy I had not expected.
Just as I had planned to set the book down, I turned the page and there it was: a sketch, not of a landscape, but of a female. She was peacefully sleeping, and it was like staring in a mirror. Trace had drawn me . I didn’t know when. Maybe last night, possibly before at the inn? Just like the landscape, it was well done.
I closed the book quickly and set it back on the table, feeling partly ashamed for snooping, but also satisfied at having found myself in the position of being his muse. There were no other sketches of people, just me.
In the days that passed, we enjoyed each other’s company in all ways. Often the silence between us said more than words. This was our language. Everything we could not or would not say, we showed in the way we knew how. Without restraint.
By now, I had memorized every inch of Trace’s body. We’d continued our escapades in the tree house and on our visits to the hot spring. Anywhere, as we often found ourselves unable to exert any semblance of control.
At dinner, we’d play a game of five questions and, for the most part, I could be honest. Now and then I’d have to change an answer ever so slightly to avoid giving myself away as someone more affluent or educated than I was pretending to be. We’d hunt, and I’d act like I was a worse shot than I was. Granted, I had never needed to hunt, but I knew how to hit a target, even a moving one.
If I were being honest with myself, these days of playing house with Trace were perhaps the most normal I’d felt since the news of the Offering. The importance of the list was unusually far from my mind.
(Thirteen Days Remain)
I sought out my revenge on Trace’s prank about a week into my visit. When I was young, I learned a trick with Rain that sent my parents into a near panic. It consisted of pretending I had fallen off my horse and hurt myself, when in actuality, it was an acrobatic feat that I’d practiced many times with Versa as my audience.
We were riding together, with me trailing a short distance behind Trace and Alcar. Close enough, though, that they’d hear a commotion and stop. As planned, Rain slowed a little, stood on his hind legs, let out a deafening squeal and I “fell” and rolled to the ground. Like clockwork, Trace turned just in time to see enough of the act that looked real from a distance.
I lay there, not moving, pretending to be completely knocked out when Trace galloped to me, lunging to my side. I could feel the horror emanating from him. I reveled in his fear, remembering the exact moment I had tried to escape the flesh-eating eels.
He held me in his arms, cradling my face, asking over and over again, “Cress, Cress, are you okay? Wake up!”
When I finally decided he’d had enough torture, I opened my eyes wide and smiled directly up at him. Now that my eyes were open, I could see the concern and fear settled deep in his brow. He was scared. Had I truly rattled him that badly? The look on his face when he saw me smile and knew what I had done in jest was a mixture of relief and an inexplicable anger that I’d never encountered.
Before I could respond, Trace had lifted me like I weighed nothing, hoisted me over his shoulder, and began carrying me toward a nearby tree.
“You want to play damsel in distress?” he said with an eerily calm ferocity.
“You deserved it!” I tried to sound playful to offset the intensity radiating from him.
Trace set me down and turned me toward the tree, facing away from him. My body was limp and pliable as I let him have his way, unsure of exactly where this was headed. I began to look over my shoulder to peer in his direction. “Don’t look at me. Don’t move a muscle,” he ordered.
I heard him rip the fabric from the sleeve of his shirt, tear it in two, and suddenly, a strip of cloth was being wrapped tightly across my eyes, blindfolding me. Another piece quickly found its way across my mouth. I had been so distracted by the urgency of his actions, I didn’t have time to process if I was scared or turned on.
I trusted him completely, but this was all truly surprising. After some brief rustling noises, I felt the feeling of worn leather binding my hands tightly behind my back. Now the nerves were setting in as bit-by-bit Trace rendered me helpless.
The forest seemed still and silent. I could feel the hot, heavy breath of Trace’s lips near the back of my ear, hovering close to my neck. He used his knee to nudge my feet into a wider stance.
“That was a very big mistake, Cress,” was all he said in a low, almost predatory manner.
My body was becoming hot with desire; the suspense of not being able to see, speak, or use my hands was alluring. Trace reached his arm around my waist, taking no time at all to plunge his hand down the front of my trousers and run his long, rigid fingers along my slippery heat.
I arched my body into him, seeking more. He began to draw pleasure from me in rapid circles, my ragged breaths inaudible through the gag. I could feel myself reaching a climax, as he did not relent, and just as I was meeting my end he stopped and removed his hand, leaving me practically aching for him. Why would he do this to me?
“Are you distressed?” he asked, toying with me.
I whimpered with a nod. He turned me around so I was now facing him, but alas, I could still see nothing beyond this blindfold. My fingertips itched to touch him. He yanked my boots from my feet, removed my pants swiftly, and if it weren’t for the absolute certainty that we were utterly alone in the middle of nowhere, I’d have feared for my propriety.
Trace was now clearly on his knees before me as he swung one of my legs over his shoulder, forcing me to balance on the other. A near-impossible task as I was still trembling from minutes before. And then his mouth was consuming me.
Firm brushes of his tongue, light flicks across my center, his fingers working me into a frenzy. I had nothing to steady myself. My hands were rendered useless. I leaned into the amazing feeling of his mouth against me, and in minutes, I was chasing that climax again. I could feel the intensity of it building and once more, as I thought I would topple over the edge—he stopped.
Once more he deprived me of his touch, of the sensation. All of my muscles tightened, building with the anxiety of being taken close to release and then denied.
“Are you distressed?” he asked again.
If only I could see, I was more than certain there would have been an absolutely sinister look on his handsome face. I was unbelievably distressed—so much so that the aching was borderline painful, and I could feel the beginning of stinging tears hovering below my lashes beneath the blindfold.
Once more, Trace turned my half-naked body to face the tree, away from him, and wedged his knee between my legs to spread them. I heard the unbuckling of his belt and the sound was that of salvation. I yearned to feel every inch of him inside of me, to set me free from this torturous build-up.
Trace forcefully bent me over, taking me abruptly and without warning. His thrusts, short and rapid, had me taking deep breaths through my nose, as I could not get enough air with the cloth gag in my mouth. The lightheadedness caused by this created an unnatural, almost euphoric sensation.
He punished me with a vigor I had never felt from Trace. If he did not bring me to an end soon, I was going to fully collapse. I had already been bracing most of my weight into the tree in front of me, the rough bark irritating my skin, a sensation that could only be ignored by the countering force of Trace. His pace edged me toward eruption and as I tightened all around him, the bastard did it again.
He stopped. Standing completely still, unmoving, but inside of me and he began to slowly pull out.
“Are you distressed?” he panted the words in my ear.
I nodded yes, anything to get him to stop this cruel madness. I felt him untie the fabric gagging my mouth and when it fell to the ground, I took in deep heaping breaths for the first time since this all had begun. He spun me around, facing forward now, but still blinded.
“Say my name,” he commanded.
My dry lips rasped, “Trace.”
When I did as he asked, he gripped my leg, wrapping it around him. Trace placed himself at my entrance, holding himself there. He teased me with a fraction of his length, refusing to push past the threshold.
“Again.”
I licked my lips. “Trace.”
He pushed himself into me just a little farther. I wanted more, all of him. I craved the true fullness that I had seconds ago.
“Are you sorry?”
Yes. Yes, is all I wanted to scream, because never had I imagined pretending to fall off a horse would have led me to this game of unrelenting, sensuous torture. But I knew what he wanted.
“I’m sorry…” I paused, letting the silence fill the air between us, “Trace.”
The sound of his name once more drew him to me, fully filling me, and he pounded into my core with a rapid pace, carrying me with him to a climax that he finally allowed both of us. It culminated with his lips pressed against mine for the first time since he had rendered me helpless. I collapsed into him fully, unable to hold myself up any longer.
In contrast to his earlier intensity, Trace gently removed my remaining bonds and dressed me carefully and slowly. He took note of my exhausted state and brought me water. He pulled my disheveled hair back and tied it with the ripped fabric that had previously veiled my eyes.
Once we were somewhat presentable, I looked at Rain, and the mere thought of having enough strength to ride seemed unfathomable. Trace let out a small laugh and shook his head in disbelief.
“You’ll saddle with me and I’ll tether Rain. I’m not letting you fall off your horse for real this time.”
I didn’t have the will or energy to argue with him. Not after what he’d just put me through. He hoisted me up onto Alcar and saddled behind me, holding my body tight and close to him the entire way back to the haven house.
“You need a good warm soak this evening, you’re going to be very sore.”
That night we lay in bed together staring out the skylight at the stars. This was our usual activity after dinner and a game of five questions.
“I’ve always loved the stars, they’re one of my few constants and bring me solace.” There was an air of sadness in Trace’s admission.
“The stars are like seeing something that’s already gone, it’s terribly sad,” I said before realizing it was highly unlikely someone who was less educated would know anything about the astronomical sciences. They believe the light we see is actually from stars long dead, only just now reaching us. I changed the subject immediately.
The days with Trace blurred together, and if I could, I would have bottled up that brief time of happiness for eternity. As my freedom dwindled, I tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling that I awoke to each morning. More pictures of me appeared in the sketchbook, but he never showed me directly. I only ever saw them when I had a chance to sneak a glance.
I had planned to spend at least a week with Trace, but now, one week didn’t feel like nearly enough. I wrestled with the desire to stay as close to him for as long as possible and the need to see my family. Before I left, things at home were manageable, but that didn’t mean there weren’t hard days. My father withered more each time I saw him, his appearance falling further into disarray. My mother remained distant, unless it involved wedding plans, allowing her to placate herself with a semblance of normalcy. Keeping up the lie in front of Versa was the worst of it all, though.
As my feelings for Trace intensified, I found myself daydreaming in bouts of jealousy of what my sister would get to have with her betrothed. Sure, there were moments where we all successfully pretended like it wasn’t eating us alive…but there were others where any one of us appeared as if we were about to crack. I was keeping it together for them, they were keeping it together for Versa, but I was the one who was keeping it all together for me. Here, with Trace, it was much easier to ignore. I loved them dearly, and maybe I’d spend the rest of my life missing them, but I relished in this escape where I was the center of attention for all the right reasons, instead of for what awaited me at home.
I had made it known to Trace when I needed to part ways, noting that I had a fair distance to travel to meet up with my new crew. He reluctantly acknowledged that he, too, would need to return to his post soon. Together, we set a date, knowing that in a week this would all come to an end, and I could tell leading up to that we were both eager to ignore it as much as possible.
There were days where we spent more time locked in one another’s embrace than doing anything else, hidden away under the canopy of the treehouse, fugitives from sunlight. We teased each other to the brink of madness in the pools of the hot spring, creating swirls of luminescence with each passionate exchange. We were determined to defy time; too certain our nights were endless; too foolish to know it wasn’t true.
The night before we departed, there was no way to hide from reality, to delay the coming of the dawn.
“I think I’ve been falling for you since the moment I saw you, how could I not?” Trace said.
It was unexpected. He was just offering up his truth from seemingly nowhere. The candor of it caught me off guard. I remembered when Trace said he had been watching me all night at the tavern when we first met. Though our first interactions were not the smoothest, I replayed them often in my head to remind myself of how far we’d come in such little time. How oddly connected I felt to him. Unable to accept the weight of his words, I remained silent.
He half joked, half pleaded, “We could both just run away from our obligations, but there would be consequences.”
“Yes, consequences…” I said, dismayed, thinking of Versa and what would happen to her if I made such a selfish decision.
“Wherever you’re going…I want you to be happy. Don’t wait for me, Cress. Kingsguards’ wives make for lonely widows. Just promise me you’ll go and be happy.”
He had no idea how much I reciprocated that sentiment. I was leaving to Gods-knew-where or what, and I wanted to be mature enough to believe that if I couldn’t have Trace, then I wanted him to be happy as well. I think we knew now was the time for words, because in the morning there would likely be none.
Tomorrow we’d say what we needed to, without words. That night we didn’t sleep. Beneath the stars, surrounded by the sounds of tiny woodland creatures, we made passionate love to one another over and over. It felt different than all the other times before. It felt like goodbye.
I dreaded the orange and yellow hues of sunrise peeking through what little light the tree branches allowed into the haven house. I looked around the tiny room, at all its simplicity, grateful for the memories he and I had made. He made me breakfast and packed my things for me, giving Rain a few gentle encouraging pats along his mane. I was lost in thought for much of the morning. Staring at Trace, trying to commit every possible detail to memory.
He kissed me deeply, neither of us wanting to be the first to pull away. He hoisted me up to the saddle, though by now he knew I did not need the help. But he liked doing it, so I didn’t protest.
I sat there, gazing down at him, trying to keep the tears from falling. He grabbed my hand and placed a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
“I put something in your bag for you, for when you get wherever you’re going, Cress.”
He said my name as if he just wanted to hear himself say it one last time in my presence.
I gulped in the air to give myself time to say anything without my voice cracking, but it was impossible.
“Wherever you’re going, think of me. When you’re lonely or alone. I won’t be forgetting you any time soon.”
It was obvious the last remark broke me, and I kicked Rain into an urgent sprint as tears streamed down my face, unable to glance back even once.