Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“You’re the princess of nothing.” It’s a threat gritted out through clenched teeth. I can taste the rage on his breath when —
A groggy sigh escapes me. My bed is hard—strangely hard—beneath my back. What time is it? By the Tides, if I’m late for another council meeting, Father will—
“Did you get enough beauty sleep, Princess?” a deep voice drawls.
Tides drown me.
My blood turns to ice as yesterday’s events crash through my mind like a raging tidal wave. I yank his cloak off my face, squinting against the onslaught of sunlight.
Zevayr’s leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his broad chest, glaring at me.
“I’ve been awake for hours,” he adds drily. “Hurry up and eat.” He jerks his head toward the edge of the blanket where he’s laid out dried meat and a handful of nuts. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
With slow movements, I throw off the cloak completely and stand.
“You could have woken me,” I snap, smoothing out my tunic.
His gaze rakes me from head to toe, and I try not to shiver under his intense scrutiny. Tides, I’d slept in his arms last night. My cheeks heat, and I whirl and storm through the trees before he sees the damning redness on my face.
Arms crossed against the frigid morning air, I find a suitable spot far enough away from camp to relieve myself.
I might have frozen to death if he hadn’t noticed—and forced me to share his body heat. The thought twists something deep in my gut.
Obviously he needs me alive.
That’s all it is. I’m betrothed to his brother.
I scrub clean snow over my face, then rinse out my mouth, hoping the jarring cold will settle my racing heart.
By the time I return to camp, Zevayr is pacing the clearing, raking a violent hand through his hair. My steps must be louder than I think, because even from a distance he whirls toward me—brows drawn tight, teeth bared and ready to deliver another cutting remark.
He doesn’t disappoint.
“At the risk of repeating myself, I ask again, did they not teach you basic survival skills in Tundrayn?”
“What are you talking about?” I bite out. I wring my hands together because otherwise I’ll strangle him.
“You spent ages in the woods,” he snarls. “What if something happened? What if more rebels are nearby? I didn’t save your ass from freezing just so you can keep endangering yourself.”
“Why didn’t you just come find me, then?”
“I was about to. I wasn’t sure if you’d be … indecent.”
I roll my eyes, turning to hide my flush. I refuse to be drawn into another bickering match with him. I scoop up the food he left out.
“Let’s go, then. I’ll eat as we walk.”
Tides help me, this is only day one.
Snow begins to fall as we trudge between densely packed trees, the light flurry quickly thickening. Heavy flakes thread through my hair and cling to my lashes. My fingers ache from the cold. I blow hot air over the tips, though it doesn’t help much.
At least the snow will cover our tracks.
Zevayr glances back. He’s been single-minded about covering ground, but his gaze snags on my chapped, reddened hands. His brows knit together. “You didn’t think to pack gloves?” he asks, his deep voice laced with dry amusement.
He slows beside me, peeling off his own. The gloves hang between us, like a truce begging to be broken.
“I did pack gloves,” I hiss. “They were probably in one of the other carriages that exploded. Didn’t you think to check after you tied me up?”
His jaw ticks. He shakes the gloves again, sharper this time.
“No, thank you,” I snap, even as my fingers scream.
His gaze pins me in place.
“Remember when I said I’d only touch you if you were being an idiot?” I flinch. His voice is low. Dangerous. “Don’t make me hold you down and put them on for you.”
My pulse skips. My palm itches with the desire to slap him again.
“Unless you want me to hold you down and…” His voice drops lower. “You don’t want me finishing that sentence, Mayah.”
I snatch the gloves from his hand, cramming my fingers inside.
“I sure hope your brother has better manners than you,” I mutter, trying to ignore the lingering warmth and slight dampness inside the fur-lined gloves. My fingers curl into the residual heat from his large hands, and it feels far more intimate than it should.
Zevayr snorts, striding ahead. His shadow stretches long across the snow. I follow, hating how small my steps feel beside his.
The fire crackles pleasantly, warming my fingers—though they’ve been warm all day.
Zevayr refused to take back the gloves, no matter how hard I insisted.
My legs ache, and exhaustion seeps through every inch of me.
We walked until the sun dipped behind the trees, stopping only when visibility became an issue.
“Why didn’t your brother come for the ceremony?” I ask despite my better judgment. I can almost tolerate him when he’s silent.
Zevayr doesn’t respond immediately. He tosses the remains of our dinner—a pitiful hare he’d caught earlier—into the snow.
“Too dangerous. Not worth the risk for the crown prince to venture into … hostile territory.” He finally sits across from me. Firelight catches in his dark hair.
I open my mouth again, but he cuts me off. “Get some sleep. It’ll be another long day tomorrow.”
“It’s my turn to take first watch,” I protest, even as fatigue weighs heavy on my eyelids.
He gives me a long look, one that seems to say I know you’re full of shit. I bristle.
Zevayr exhales sharply. “Tomorrow we’ll alternate. Rest. Please.” He stretches the word, jaw tight, like it burns his tongue. It’s clear he’s not a man accustomed to saying it.
I debate arguing further but decide against it.
“Here,” he says, unfastening his cloak. “Sleep under my cloak.”
I hesitate, eyeing the cloak like it’s a rabid snow wolf.
“And … where will you sleep?”
A beat. Then, with the faintest hint of challenge, “Under my cloak.”
My fingers tremble as I take it. It smells like smoke and pine and him. Wrapped in it, cocooned in warmth, I try to sleep. I really do.
But I lay there, awake. Listening. Waiting.
I’d slept in his arms last night, but I’d been half-frozen and half-asleep. It feels much more dangerous tonight.
Eventually, the scraping sizzle of snow kicked over fire wafts toward me. I can only guess when he’s reached the blanket by the faint sound of his boots unlacing—somehow, his footsteps are always silent. His breath is steady as he peels back the edge of the cloak and lies down beside me.
So close. Tides drown me. Must he nestle in so close? I guess we won’t both fit beneath the cloak otherwise, but does he need to—
“You know it defeats the purpose of me staying up if you don’t actually sleep,” he rumbles, voice laced with amusement.
I snap my eyes open. His gray gaze waits for me in the dark.
“This feels wrong,” I whisper. “What will your brother think … when he finds out we’ve … slept together. I mean not—”
“If you think this counts as sleeping together, you’ve been doing it wrong.”
My breath catches in my throat.
He goes still. Then he sighs, low and tired. “That was … inappropriate.” When I don’t answer, his voice softens. “No one needs to know. The weather will warm up as we get closer to Arbinj. We won’t have to sleep this way for long. It’s just survival, Mayah. Nothing else.”
Just survival.
So why is my heart racing like I’m being chased?
It’s a long time before sleep finally comes.