Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Mayah gasps in delight when we come across a small stream.
We’ve finally left Tundrayn behind and ventured into Rebellion territory.
I’ve been waiting for her to announce that we don’t need to sleep pressed together each night, but surprisingly, she hasn’t mentioned it.
Maybe she’s frightened we’ll be attacked. Maybe she feels safer being near me.
Either way, I don’t object, greedy bastard that I am.
A smile tugs at my lips as I watch her gaze at the burbling water, her face almost wistful, hands wavering at her sides. Skies, she must really miss being able to bathe.
She catches my gaze and quickly schools her features into impassivity—I hide the whispers of my smile, too.
I gesture toward the stream. “You bathe first. I’ll stand guard.” I drop my bag onto the ground while Mayah rifles through her satchel for her only spare outfit.
Back turned, I lean against a thick tree trunk, trying desperately, futilely, to ignore the soft rustle of clothing as she undresses, the gentle sounds of water as she wades into the stream.
Think about literally anything else, idiot.
Faramir’s sneering face. The last battle where I sliced off a man’s arm at the elbow. Her friends’ blood on my hands.
Anything except the fact that Mayah stands completely naked, just a few feet behind me, water lapping at her calves, kissing her bare skin as she cups it in her palms and cascades it down her body.
My trousers are uncomfortably tight. I shift my weight, clearing my throat.
“Are you turning around?” Mayah’s panicked voice calls out.
No, but I want to.
An amused sigh escapes me instead. “No, Mayah. I’m not.” I can’t resist adding, “Why, do you want me to?” A slow grin spreads across my face as she sputters.
“No!”
I’m disappointed when my neck doesn’t prickle.
After leaving the stream, we walk for hours, my heavy cloak thrown over my shoulder.
Her faint steps echo behind me in the forest. After the torture of listening to her bathe, I know my eyes will wander if she walks ahead, all swaying hips and loose hair I want to tangle my fingers in. What would she—
Mayah looses a sharp yelp.
Immediately, I spin, hand on the hilt of my sword, ready to impale any threat.
I’m unprepared for Mayah to crash into me. I catch her around the waist with one arm, but the momentum sends us tumbling backward in a jumble of limbs. I cradle her to my chest, curling inwards as we plummet.
My back slams against the ground, the air knocked from my lungs. Mayah gasps, hands clutching my shirt, but otherwise seems all right. She bears her weight against my chest, and fuck, her thighs straddle mine. My hands are tight around her hips, her face buried in my neck. She smells incredible.
Familiar.
Maddening.
My cock stirs in my trousers, and it’s all I can do to quell the surge of desire. Her dark hair cascades around her face, a curtain between us and the world.
She’s not moving.
Neither am I.
Skies, I want to kiss her. Would it be so—
Yes. Yes, it would be catastrophic, idiot.
So I act like an ass. Again.
“Don’t get enough of me at night?” A teasing smirk curls my lips. “I’m happy to oblige, Mayah.”
The coarse words break the spell. She scrambles off me, leaving cold disappointment in her wake.
“Sorry,” she mutters, striding away. The poor girl is limping.
“Mayah!” I call out, still sprawled on the ground.
Slowly, she turns.
“Heal your ankle before you storm away.”
Hours later, we come across a small cottage, hidden between the trees. “Do you think they’re friendly?” Mayah whispers, kneeling beside me in the underbrush.
“Maybe. They could be in league with rebels, though,” I respond, scratching my jaw. “Regardless, they’re definitely not friendly to Tundraynis.”
“So we won’t tell them I’m Tundrayni.”
“Solid plan,” I chuckle, glancing at her. “Too bad your pretty blue eyes will give us away.” The smile freezes on my face, my mouth slamming shut.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t believe I said that.
I watch Mayah through the corner of my eye. A part of me hopes she’ll latch onto my comment and tease me about it. Care about it.
But she doesn’t.
Why would she? I’m taking her to Tundrayn to marry my brother.
Any closeness she feels is platonic at best and only because we’ve been isolated together for weeks.
I clear my throat, avoiding her gaze. “It’s safer to double back and walk around.”
Faramir’s betrothed. She’s Faramir’s betrothed.
I can’t bring myself to look at her. I might do something foolish like profess my maddening feelings.
We head back the way we came.
Five minutes later, I freeze.
There’s something nearby—something big based on the vibrating energy signature.
A low rustle drifts through the trees.
Then we see it.
A massive black bear. And it’s blocking the path ahead.
I don’t think. Only react.
Shoving Mayah behind me, I unsheathe my sword with my other hand. I stretch myself to my full height, up onto the tips of my toes.
The bear doesn’t move.
I think it might run. Just another min—
Fuck.
A new energy signature pulls my attention. There’s someone in the bushes, someone small. I’ve barely turned my head when a boy emerges, perhaps eleven or twelve. Clutched in his hands is a too-large sword.
“Leave them alone!” he shouts at the bear.
My legs move, unbidden, bolting across the clearing.
But I’m too slow. And the boy, too close.
The bear swipes, claws tearing into his belly. I reach them seconds too late, plunging my sword into the bear’s side and yanking downward. It looses a weak roar, turning to swipe at me, but I easily avoid its claws.
Mayah is already there, pulling the boy’s head into her lap. Her hands glow white—
The bear sways.
Another energy signature, darting toward us.
“Georg! Oh, Georg!”
A woman’s panicked shouts ripple through the stillness. She bursts through the underbrush, wearing a long skirt and a tear-stained expression, her eyes haunted with an anguished fear that can only belong to a mother. She kneels beside Mayah.
“I told you not to wander off alone,” she says to the unconscious boy through tears.
Thud.
The bear hits the ground, dark blood seeping into the earth.
“Help me bring him back to my cottage,” the woman pleads.
“Wait,” Mayah says, placing a hand on her arm. “He’ll lose too much blood.”
Lightning blind me—I see the resolve in her eyes. What she means to do.
“Mayah.” It’s a warning.
Her blue eyes meet mine, determined and beautiful. And I just know she’s not going to listen, and Skies damn me, it makes me fall harder for her. I can admit it to myself now, in this moment.
I’m in love with her. Every part of her.
Her defiance. Her fearlessness. Her goodness.
Mayah’s hands glow with gentle light, and the woman gasps. I don’t blame her. I would’ve gasped, too, the first time I saw this magnificent woman heal a wound into nothingness, if I hadn’t been surrounded by my enemies.
Within minutes, the boy is healed. Mayah looks at me, eyes filled with wariness.
Does she see the admiration in mine? The love and respect and adoration and utter yearning? Does she see that I’d willingly impale myself on my sword to keep her safe? That I can scarcely take a breath without her pretty blue eyes haunting me?
She must, because she can’t hold my gaze. Turning to the woman, she murmurs, “He’ll sleep for a while. But your Georg will be just fine.” The woman’s eyes are wide, riveted to her son’s healed belly. Slowly, she turns to Mayah.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. Then she pulls the princess of Tundrayn into a tight embrace.
I carry Georg to their small cottage, his weight almost nothing in my arms, and tuck him into his mother’s bed. Mayah gently blots the sweat from his forehead with a washcloth, while his mother, Georgaina, lingers in the doorway.
Skies help me, I can’t tear my gaze from Mayah. She saved that boy’s life without a second thought—without concern for who she is. Where she is.
And I know, I just fucking know, if she had been there on that awful, skiescursed night, she would’ve healed Lev—enemy or not. Crown princess or not.
But Mayah doesn’t look at me. I ignore the sharp pang in my chest as she walks past me toward Georgaina.
“Stay and eat. Please,” the woman insists.
Mayah finally gifts me with her attention, shooting me a questioning glance.
I want to say no. It’s risky. We’re in Rebellion territory. If they knew the princess of Tundrayn and the Commander of Arbinj were here in this cottage…
But I know Mayah wants to stay—it’s evident in the hopeful slant of her lips—and I find myself nodding.
My greedy hand finds her lower back as we follow Georgaina to her modest kitchen.
Mayah doesn’t flinch or pull away and, for this fleeting moment, for the short distance from bedroom to kitchen, I pretend she’s mine.
Mine to care for.
Mine to protect.
Mine to love.
Georgaina bustles around the kitchen, feeding us roasted hen and potatoes.
I don’t even taste the food. My focus is reserved for Mayah, who moans softly after every bite, finishing her first portion within minutes.
I hide my smile behind my hand, wishing I could feed her better than unseasoned rabbit.
“We don’t have much,” Georgaina says in apology. “But you’re welcome to anything you like.”
“This is perfect.” Mayah gives our host a warm smile, taking another bite.
“Where is Georg’s father?” I ask casually, eyes flicking between Mayah and the door.
Georgaina shakes her head, fingers tugging at the checkered tablecloth. “He was summoned to the front lines a few years ago. His sword came home. He never did.”
Mayah’s face falls, and my heart lurches in protest.
Skies, this woman has the power to destroy me.
“Georg carries the sword everywhere,” Georgaina continues. “Says he wants to be a soldier like his Pa. I want something more for him, though. Something better. But … we’re commons.” She shrugs, eyes wet. “If the war doesn’t end, in a few years, he’ll leave me, too.”
Guilt churns in my gut, acidic and heavy. Georg’s father was under my command. Not directly, but I’m still responsible.
I clear my throat. “Is that a garden you have out back?”
She nods. “It’s doing all right. Could do with some more water, though. Well’s empty. Soldiers came through a few weeks ago. Siphoned it dry.”
I clench my teeth. My men are forbidden from stealing resources from villagers. What has Sulon been allowing in my absence?
“And the Rebellion?” I continue. “Any trouble with them?”
Georgaina eyes me closely. “They stop by from time to time. Not friendly, but not hostile either. Sometimes they bring food.”
No prickles, but my shoulders tense anyway.
Our host glances between us, adding, “Last I heard, Prince Zevayr was delivering the Tundrayni princess to Arbinj. But they were attacked. No one’s seen them since.”
My hands clench into tight fists.
Skies damn her—she shouldn’t have said that.
Now, I’m left with no choice. She knows who we are.
Slowly, deliberately, I move my hand to the pommel of my sword. My grip tightens around it when I catch Mayah’s gaze—she’s pleading with me with those bright, blue eyes.
Please, she seems to say. Please don’t.
It would be incredibly foolish to leave this woman alive—someone with ties to the Rebellion, someone who knows who we are.
But I’m a fool, it seems, for I can deny Mayah nothing.
“We heard something similar,” I finally say, eyes locked on Mayah’s. “Except he isn’t delivering her, like bartered goods to be traded. He’s safeguarding her. Like a treasure.”
Mayah’s lips part in surprise. If I keep looking at her, I’m afraid I’ll confess my feelings right here.
“We’ll be on our way,” I say instead, rising from the table.
Mayah follows, giving Georgaina instructions about how to care for her son when he wakes.
“Thank you,” the woman murmurs, pulling Mayah into another embrace. Envy sparks in my veins at the ease with which this woman—this stranger—can just hold her. “I wish I had something to offer you in return.”
“You do.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “Forget you ever saw us.”
The woman nods solemnly, then tries to pack food for the journey, which Mayah gracefully declines.
At the door, I summon a gentle raincloud. Rain drizzles steadily—it’ll be enough to fill their well.
And it gives me a reason to draw Mayah against my side, canopying her with my cloak as we leave.