Chapter 17 #2
“Me neither,” Corrin says. “But I think a stiff drink is precisely what you need right now.”
I throw him a glare, but it’s halfhearted. I’m not angry at him. He was only being smart, stopping me from intervening. It’s me who nearly lost control. I’m just annoyed he witnessed my lapse.
“I’m sorry,” I say, letting him lead us toward the pub. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not normally so…undisciplined,” I admit through gritted teeth.
“I have no doubt about that,” Corrin says. “But I’ve watched you getting more and more tense with every reminder of the Temple we’ve passed. It started with that attack at the duke’s, didn’t it? I saw how it shook you up.”
I pause just outside the pub door, glancing around us to make sure no one’s nearby before I answer.
“I’ve been a soldier longer than you’ve been alive, Wadestaff. I don’t get ‘shaken up’ by fights.”
He tilts his head at me like he’s asking me to be serious.
“Not usually,” he says. “But that one did.”
“Let’s just get this drink,” I sigh, passing by him to stride into the pub. I order something strong and caustic, and we find a dark corner away from the other tables, made even darker with the subtle help of Corrin’s shadows.
“Was it your cousin?” he asks once we’re partway through our drinks. “Is that the reason the attack at Ribold’s hit you so hard?”
“Corrin, I’m not doing this,” I say abruptly.
“Doing what?” he asks, raising his eyebrows innocently.
“Pouring my heart out to you.”
“Ah, so you admit you have a heart,” he says with a wink.
I don’t allow myself to be baited, too distracted by something else he said.
“Most people would just assume watching my cousin die was what upset me,” I say, my eyes firmly on my drink. “But you asked about it like it’s not the obvious answer.”
“Because nothing is obvious when it comes to you. I believed you when you said he was better off dead. My guess is that’s not what bothered you about it all, but I wanted to make sure.”
I stare at him. This man has gotten so good at reading people because he’s made a career of manipulating them. So why do I find myself wanting to trust him?
“Finish your drink,” I say, downing my own. I get up and go to the bar, returning with two more glasses. He has the good sense to accept his without another word, waiting for me as I sit down and take a gulp. Then I start to speak.
“As you’ve probably guessed, most of my family are Morelium.
They’re important people in western Filusia.
The Rhymis estate—my father’s house—holds incredible strategic significance.
That’s why when they started to fall foul of strange ideas creeping over the border from Trova, no one did anything.
The king didn’t want to risk losing the Rhymis family as allies. ”
“Strange ideas?” he asks lightly.
“About discipline and sacrifice. About how anyone who didn’t worship Ethira was a blasphemer doomed to the Gloamlands.
There were rules—a lot of them—about what we could wear and what we could eat and when.
My father liked to make us fast whole days sometimes before we were allowed a drop of water or a crumb to eat.
Eventually, we were only allowed to speak at certain times, and even then it was usually to pray.
It was all part of the sacrifice we made to show our devotion to the great Ethira. ”
I look back down into my drink, remembering how the air in my father’s house grew harder to breathe as our freedoms were stripped away.
“And if you refused?” Corrin asks quietly.
“Anyone who argued was punished, of course,” I say with a bitter smile. “Sometimes I was lucky, and my father let me choose the manner of my punishment. Sometimes…I was less lucky.”
I briefly close my eyes, trying to stave off the image of the cold, dark room I was left in for hours, naked. I can still hear the whistle and crack of my father’s cane on my skin.
Something warm touches my hand, and my eyes fly open. Corrin’s fingers gently entwine with mine, and I don’t fight it.
“So how did you get out?” he asks.
“They weren’t just content with knowing the heathens we were surrounded by would end up in the Gloamlands eventually.
They started talking about sending them there.
My father wanted to build an army to fight for Ethira here in the mortal realm.
I saw my chance. I threw myself into training, telling him it was so I could become a soldier for his precious god.
He was impressed by my dedication and provided me with all the training I wanted—giving me the tools I needed to walk away for good. ”
I pause, taking another big gulp of my drink. I’ve started this damn confession, so I might as well finish it.
“By the time I came of age, the war in Trova was just starting. It wasn’t long before the king pledged his troops to Palquir.
The army marched to Trova. My father was furious, of course, that the fae were going to war against the Ethirans.
” I smirk. “And even more furious, I imagine, when he found the note I left explaining I was enlisting. I never spoke to him again.”
“And that’s where you met the prince,” Corrin says, nodding. He’s released my hand now, reaching to take another sip of his drink. I tell myself I don’t miss the warmth of his fingers, downing most of my own drink to distract myself.
“The day I joined Filusia’s army, I had no one,” I continue.
My family had disowned me. Everyone I knew was Morelium, and they would never speak to me again.
And it wasn’t exactly easy to make new friends.
My name made me a pariah in the military camp.
No one wanted to fight beside a member of the Rhymis clan.
Everyone knew they were a bunch of crazy cultists. ”
I smile at the memory.
“Then I bumped into the captain, and he made me an offer. He’d heard we Rhymis folk were fierce with a blade.
If I could beat him in a fight—weapons only, no magic—then I could be a part of his unit.
When I had him on his knees with a knife to his throat, I asked him if he regretted the decision.
But he just smiled and told me it was exactly the outcome he’d been hoping for. ”
Corrin gives me a look like now he understands something he didn’t before, but he doesn’t interrupt me.
“I’m telling you all this because—well, firstly because I’m a little drunk,” I say, examining my glass.
Whatever they put in this Trovian liquor is strong.
“But also because running into the Morelium again…it reminded me how easily I could’ve ended up like them.
What if the opportunity never came to leave?
If the war didn’t happen, I don’t know if I would’ve had the guts to leave.
Not with nowhere to go. I could’ve been one of those people attacking us that night, if things had gone differently. ”
Corrin shakes his head. “No, you couldn’t have. You’re too brave, Damia, too good. You wouldn’t have let them break your spirit.”
I laugh. “I’m not sure good is the word people use when it comes to me. Death on two legs, yes. Mean bitch? Sure. But not good.”
Corrin grins at me. “Maybe not to those with narrower definitions and narrow minds. But I have a broader perspective. You live as I have, and you learn everything is relative.”
He moves in a little closer, and I lean in too, until our shoulders are brushing against each other and our legs are side by side. The spirits have left me warm inside, despite our topic of conversation, and my skin feels unusually alive as my wrist brushes against his palm.
“So come on then,” I say. “Fair’s fair. What was your father like?”
“Never knew him,” Corrin says cheerfully. “My mother was a laundry woman in the slums. I suspect she turned to other work when she couldn’t make ends meet, and I was probably the result of one of those liaisons.”
“So you were born in Hallowbane,” I say.
“Lived there my whole life. I started on the outskirts, in the north, but slowly worked my way into the center. My mother died before I really made it big. It would’ve been nice if she could’ve seen some of the places on Grove Street,” he says wistfully.
It’s such a simple, normal wish, it blindsides me. My throat catches, and I look away.
“That’s where you met Marina?” I ask quietly.
I remember her name. Of course I do. I could never forget the day we argued with Corrin about using his employees as spies—the day I learned that someone he loved had already walked that path and died for it.
I’d been shocked by the raw pain on his face, like a mask had suddenly dropped, and the suave, charming crook was revealing a truth he never intended to.
Now, with his face just a few inches away, and the warmth of his body beside mine, I want to know more about what’s under that mask. My question doesn’t startle him, but it is enough to make him pause.
“Yes,” he says eventually. “I did meet her there. We were friends—and nothing more than friends for a long time. Of course, she made the first move.” A ghost of a smile lights up his face, but then it falls away. “And then she got herself mixed up with the Hand.”
I don’t ask for specifics on what it was like when the Temple murdered her. There’s no need. I’ve seen enough death in my time to picture it clearly.
“That’s why I have to go back,” he says, looking up at me with a steely shine in his eyes.
“No one gives a shit about Hallowbane. But that’s my people in there.
Good people. Those bastards in red could be ripping the place apart piece by piece, person by person.
I need to protect them. It’s my job to protect them. ”
I see it now, the unbreakable loyalty that runs through him and the hatred of the Temple that burns alongside it. For all our differences, I’m coming to realize we’re actually quite a lot alike where it counts.
“We’re stuck waiting for a reply from our bearer friend now, anyway,” I murmur. “We might as well check on your people in Hallowbane in the meantime.”
I don’t think I imagine the shadows darkening around us a fraction more. When he meets my eyes, his gaze is nearly as dark.
“Thank you,” he says. “Although I confess I had some rather intricate plans to convince you to come around.”
His voice is an invitation, one of so many he’s offered me over the last few weeks. Each time, I’ve batted them back, telling myself I shouldn’t, that it will only distract me, that I can’t trust him.
But in this moment, all those protests melt away. Why shouldn’t I have this? Why shouldn’t I have him? I’m not too proud to admit I’ve wanted him for a long time now, with his sharp wit and irresistible smile, and the way he’s never once shown the need to make me smaller so he can feel big.
“I can still put up some resistance, if you’d prefer,” I say, turning into him and sliding a hand up his thigh.
I remember doing the same thing in Elmere, and how tempted I was to take it further, feeling his muscles stiffen and twitch under my touch.
“Then you can show me exactly how persuasive you can be.”
His eyes light up with a mix of hunger and excitement.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” he murmurs, reaching up and taking my chin between his fingers. He tilts my face toward him, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. Just that simple touch sends heat pooling at my core, and I push his hand aside to close the gap between us.
It’s just like the kiss on the boat, the one I’ve been thinking about constantly, except better. Because this time I know I’m not going to pull back. For tonight, at least, I’m all in.
He kisses me deeply, our tongues fighting for dominance, neither one willing to give ground.
He wraps his arm around my waist so he can pull me against him and then dip me slightly, giving him leverage as he claims my mouth.
I respond by hooking one leg up over his knee, until I’m almost straddling him, pulling his tied-back hair loose so the dark strands fall across his face and brush against my cheek.
“Gods, woman, you’re going to be the ruin of me,” he breathes heavily against my lips.
“Maybe not total ruin,” I reply wickedly, shifting so my thigh brushes the hardness between his legs. “But I will break you in a little.”
I look around, peering through the shadows to a set of stairs.
“This place has rooms to rent,” I say.
“Does it, now?” Corrin smirks back, but he doesn’t give me anything more. Frustration rises in me. I’m too turned on for him to play hard to get now.
“Wadestaff—”
“Oh no,” he interrupts, then leans in to kiss me again, slow and sensuous. My muscles relax one by one as he unravels me with his tongue.
“If we’re going to do this, you’re going to call me by my first name,” he murmurs against my lips. “That’s what I want you moaning when I’m inside you.”
I narrow my eyes, though my pulse is galloping now.
“Big talk, Corrin, but are you sure you could keep up with me?”
A low sound rises from his throat, as if my challenge is the most enticing thing he’s ever heard.
“There’s only one way to find out,” he says, taking my hand.
Black shadows swirl after us as he leads me up the stairs.