Chapter Two #2
“I owe you this much, my lord, and so much more.” She bowed her head, then turned to Naia. “I am pleased that the blockade posed no particular challenge for you. Though I should have realized, after last time, that it would not.”
Naia returned the woman’s tentative smile with equal hesitation but said nothing. She merely dropped into a curtsy so deep that her hair swung down to obscure her face, almost as if to hide her reaction.
Odd.
Gwynira didn’t notice, simply turned her attention to Einar next. She nodded her welcome and said, “Your quarters remain as you left them.”
Best to get that out of the way as soon as possible. “Thank you, but they won’t be needing those rooms,” Aleksi told her.
Her tension returned in an instant. “I beg your pardon?”
“Mmm. You can have their things moved to my suite.”
Understanding dawned on Isa’s face, but Gwynira did not yet catch his meaning.
She drew back, then squared her shoulders and spoke with urgent gravity.
“I swear upon my word as vassal of this land, my lord—I will keep you safe this time. That oath includes both of your companions. I—I will set a contingent of guards for each of them, ones personally and thoroughly vetted by Arktikos—”
Aleksi grasped her hands in his and hummed to stem the desperate flow of her words. “Relax, please. They won’t need their rooms because they’ll be sharing my bed.”
“Oh.” Gwynira blinked, then arched one eyebrow. “I see. That’s quite a development. Perhaps you are the one who owes me.”
“I would not go that far.” Aleksi bowed and backed toward the door, intending to take his leave.
“Wait.” Isa stepped forward. Everything, from her breath to her gait, was made unsteady by nerves. “What happened to the three of you may not have been Gwyn’s fault, but guarding your safety was our responsibility. We will make it right.”
The things Sachi had told him about Sorin’s court, combined with what little Aleksi had seen for himself, painted a picture of full and abiding sadness.
All Sorin’s makeshift replacement family had were obligations that served only him and his whims, along with duties they were pressed into service to attend.
There was no joy in any of it, only fear.
“I understand acting out of duty,” he told her carefully, “but I would much rather be a friend than a responsibility.”
She swallowed hard and simply stared at him for a moment, then lowered her gaze as she inclined her head. She said nothing, but Aleksi could feel her disbelief, spiky and metallic, shot through with wry, almost morbid humor.
“If you need us,” Aleksi murmured, though he let the rest of the sentiment lie.
“Rest,” Gwynira answered just as quietly. “We know where to find you.”
Naia and Einar followed him out into the hall. By tacit agreement, none of them spoke as they made their way toward the large guest chamber that Aleksi had been assigned.
The room was relatively open, with privacy screens and alcoves rather than separate rooms for dressing and bathing. Aleksi had thought the architecture odd at first, but now he appreciated that it offered few places for an intruder to lie in wait.
The bed dominated the space, large enough for a dozen to sleep comfortably, and laden with heavy velvet and furs.
A sizable sitting area completed the living space, with chairs and a sofa arranged around a low marble table.
Woven rugs and embroidered tapestries broke up the unrelenting chill of the stone walls, floor, and vaulted ceilings, and a merry fire had been laid in the hearth.
Aleksi’s belongings were much as he had left them. If the room had been searched in his absence, it had been done with care—either to preserve his possessions or conceal the intrusion.
None of that mattered as much as the question he now had to ask of his companions. “Are you angry with me?”
Naia had lifted a wine carafe from the elaborate shelf along one wall, and she paused now in the act of sniffing its contents. “Angry? Whatever for?”
“For unilaterally deciding the two of you would be sleeping here, with me?”
Her mild frown melted into a secret smile. “Sleeping, you say?”
“Naia . . .”
She relented. “No, Aleksi. I would rather stay here.”
Einar’s mood was far less teasing. “I didn’t care for being separated from either of you last time. Now? I’ll not even consider it.”
Aleksi hesitated. What he had to say next would not be welcome.
He wasn’t even sure it was the right strategic move.
Naia and Einar were here for reasons, very good ones that had only grown in importance.
Naia’s nature and power had been meant to elicit respect, but the islanders had hurtled straight past that and into fervent belief in her divinity.
And Einar, while he and his ship had been meant to serve as a quick escape route, had turned out to be the local people’s long-lost crown-prince. The two of them had purpose here. Use.
And Aleksi still wanted to send them back to the Sheltered Lands.
He had to try. His heart could not bear anything else. “The two of you could head back—”
“No.” Naia capped the decanter and placed it back on the stone shelf with a sharp clack that was as firm as her denial. “I know you’re thinking it—how could you not be? But don’t. Please.”
Einar stepped up behind Naia and embraced her as she leaned back, cradling her with a familiarity that belied the budding newness of their relationship. “You said we had to do this. And you were right, Aleksi. We have to do this. We won’t let you go it alone.”
Aleksi wanted to press the matter, for Naia was right.
How could he not? Their safety meant more to him than the undeniable pleasure of being close to them.
But the words dissolved on his tongue as they stared back at him, determined and a little challenging, as if they both anticipated his continued argument.
So he relented. “Fair enough, loves. Whatever we face, we will do it together.”
“Together,” Naia echoed with a smile, holding one hand out to him in invitation. “I like the sound of that.”
Aleksi went to them, helpless to resist. He could not bear to send them away to safer shores, and he could not stand the thought of any harm coming to them, so his only path forward was to keep them close and protect them.
Even, perhaps, at the cost of his own life.