Chapter 7 #3
He just shrugged. The ancient tree was a known breach point, but whatever the “weird shit” at the tree was, he had no knowledge of it, and from the look on her face, neither did Cora.
“I just hope they’re all safe,” Tia said.
Riley nodded. “I know. Me, too.”
Cora’s whole body went rigid beside him, and he knew she was fighting the urge to burst around the hedge and into her best friend’s arms.
He gripped her upper arm, then shook his head, just slightly.
She scowled but stayed put.
He thought of saying that he was sorry. Or telling her they’d find a way to let Tia know that Cora was safe.
He thought of saying any of the things he had said to women across the centuries, the kinds of things that made them lean into him and forget what they had lost. Words that had given them peace in the days or hours or minutes before Chase found them and snuffed out their light.
Instead, he stayed silent.
Cora wiped a tear from her cheek, her eyes still on Tia as she whispered, “She sat with me for hours when I found out that Chase had killed my mom. That he’d killed all the Brides.
She was there for me. Hell, she was there for me that first day at orientation.
It’s like we’re sisters who were separated at birth. ”
“I know,” he said gently.
“She told Riley.”
“Did you expect her not to?”
She shook her head. “No. And I can’t blame her. A week’s passed for them since we left—which is freaky. But, yeah. If I were her, I would have told too.” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “For that matter, I want to tell her all of it right now. Including that I’m sitting right here.”
He started to speak, but she got there first. “I won’t. I just want to.”
She leaned forward, clearly hoping to hear more, but there was only silence. After a moment, he peered around the hedge. “They’ve gone,” he said.
“Oh.” The word seemed too small to carry such a heavy weight.
She stood, then dusted off her jeans. “So what do you think is going on at the Widow Maker?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a place where the veil is thin. Perhaps creatures have been crossing over.”
“From your realm, you mean.”
He scowled at the accusation in her voice.
“From any realm. I know you worry about your friends, but trust me. I have sent no mares, nor has anyone done so on my orders.”
Some of the fight seemed to leave her. “I’m being bitchy. I’m just worried.” She looked at him, then flashed a quick smile. “Thank you,” she said. “For bringing me here. For letting me see her. It means the world to me.”
He inclined his head. He didn’t trust his voice.
Something like frustration clung to him as they continued across the campus. He’d wanted this trip to be a gift. A gesture. Something that would make her look at him the way she looked at Chase—with genuine warmth. Hell, with respect and depth and infinite trust.
Instead, he’d given her a taste of everything she was missing, and the gratitude in her eyes was tangled so thoroughly with longing for home that he couldn’t separate the two.
And yet she’d thanked him. Told him about working for Griffin. About Tia soothing her after she learned what his brother truly was.
She’d given him a part of herself, something neither his court nor his crown nor his thousands upon thousands of years of waiting had ever earned him.
She’d given him a piece of her heart, and he had no idea where they went from here. No idea, that is, other than home.
“We need to get back,” he said, his voice gentle.
She nodded, then took one last look at the campus—the quad, the buildings, the impossibly blue sky—and exhaled.
“I’m happy for you,” she said, and he could tell she meant it. “Being free, I mean. I see the joy on your face from nothing more than being someplace different.”
He shook his head as he took her hand. “It’s not about being in a different place. It is because this is your place.”
Her cheeks turned adorably pink, and she dipped her head to look at her shoes.
“That’s part of it, too,” she said.
“Part of what?”
“It’s just—I mean, don’t you see? This is my world, and I miss it. So much it’s like missing a limb.”
He looked at her for a long moment, cursing the longing in her eyes. A longing that wasn’t for him or for his brother. Instead, it was a longing for something he couldn’t fight.
“I know,” he said. And he meant it, though it cut him to speak those words. He knew exactly what it felt like to ache for a world you couldn’t reach. “Are you telling me you’re staying?”
She shook her head. “I’m going back with you. For now.”
“Are you?” He tilted his head, letting his gaze slide over her as he took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “I’m glad. I would hate for you to abandon me on our betrothal night.”
He saw the smile before she dipped her head to hide it, and a fierce wave of possessiveness crashed through him. She wanted him. She wanted him at least as much as she wanted Chase. Petty, perhaps, but he didn’t care. She was his bride. His. Not his brother’s.
“We’re going because we should be at the party,” she said, tilting her head so she could look straight into his eyes. “And,” she added, “because I really want to see Chase.”