Chapter 32
For a solid fifteen minutes, Cara and Berendir whisper and giggle about God only knows what under their blanket.
Meanwhile, Daerios and I lie in total silence, stiff as boards.
I’m careful to maintain at least two inches of space between us, but the blanket is only so large.
At one point, as I roll over to lie on my side, back to Daerios, my fingers accidentally brush his arm.
That small touch is enough. Warmth trickles up through my fingertips, spreading out along my palm.
Warmth that I could feel all over my body, that could lull me straight to sleep.
No. I’ve been in this position before, back in the cabin, and look how that turned out.
Even as I think the words, heat pools at the center of my body. I can’t help it. Remembering what we did that night, the way he made me feel…
Well, crap. Now I’m all hot and bothered, but I’m also freezing, because this blanket isn’t doing shit to keep me warm. Explain that.
“Warm enough?” Daerios murmurs from behind me. I realize with a jolt that his voice is the only one in the cave now. Cara and Berendir must have drifted off to sleep.
“Yes,” I lie.
He chuckles. “Right. You’re shivering so hard they can probably feel it in Indonesia.”
“Indonesia doesn’t exist on this planet, smartass.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause. Then, softer, “I was glad to see you eat a full dinner.”
Something lurches in my chest.
Don’t. Don’t let him know how that makes you feel.
“Yes, well.” I sigh. “I really tried to start starving myself again, but there was this obnoxious elf prince who wouldn’t let me get away with it.”
“He sounds extremely considerate. And handsome. And muscular.”
“He certainly thinks so.”
“And you don’t?”
“I try not to think about him at all.”
He hums. “Shame. He thinks about you quite a lot.”
My stomach flip-flops.
I can think of nothing safe to say back, so I say nothing at all. I let silence settle over us. Unfortunately, it feels quite a lot like the silence of that night in Spot Pond. A heavy quiet. One filled with the weight of everything unsaid, of unsuitable thoughts and impossible desires.
My heart picks up speed. I need to change this line of thinking. Now.
“Daerios?” I whisper.
“Hm?”
“Who was it?” I ask. “The person you knew who struggled with eating. The reason you were able to recognize the signs in me. Who was that?”
He’s quiet for a long time. I’m not surprised; it’s a personal question, and he hadn’t seemed keen on sharing its answer with me even before everything went wrong between us.
I’m about to turn over and try to fall asleep when he whispers, “My mother.”
I inhale sharply.
His mother. He’s never spoken about her to me. In fact, the only time I’ve heard anyone reference the Queen of Elaerion was King Varrith himself, and what he’d said was brief.
Most of us long to return home.
To the resting place of my beloved wife.
“Really?”
“Yes.” His voice is so soft. “It was just after the shadows flooded Elaerion. I told you about Uian, my youngest brother. How we fled to a network of caves and tunnels to escape the monsters that had descended on the palace, but he didn’t make it.
” He shifts on the ground beside me. “His death destroyed my mother. She blamed herself for not reaching him in time. So, even though we sent out hunters almost every day to keep ourselves stocked with a steady supply of food, she wouldn’t touch it.
Not a morsel. Not when my father begged her to eat.
Not even when her children begged her to eat.
She wanted to feel nothing. To lose herself in the fog of starvation. So, she did.”
By now, I’m holding my breath and digging my fingernails into my palms. What he’s saying feels as if it could have been pulled straight out of my own mind. Torn from the pages of my journal in those months following the loss of my dad and brother.
“Bit by bit, we watched her wither away. Turn from a strong, healthy elvish woman into something frail and ghostly. And my father…” There’s a brushing sound that I assume is Daerios shaking his head.
“He lost it. His realm had been destroyed, his youngest son was dead, his wife was disappearing before his eyes, and he had no idea how to fix any of it. The healers told him that what Mother needed most was time and compassion, but he didn’t listen.
He hadn’t won the Elemental Wars with time and compassion, had he?
He did the only thing he knows how to do: he forced Mother to obey. ”
Daerios’s laugh is harsh.
“Threatening her life wouldn’t be enough. He knew that. Mother didn’t care about being alive any more. He tied her to a chair, put a plateful of food in front of her, and then he grabbed me around the chest and held a knife to my throat.”
My whole body goes cold.
“’You will eat,’ he told her. ‘You will eat, because if you don’t, another one of your sons will die.’”
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“At last, she picked up her knife and fork. As she did at every meal thereafter. And to my father, that was enough. My wife is eating, he seemed to think. That’s all that matters.
But he wasn’t looking. Not really. He didn’t see the way she pushed the food around her plate without ever putting it into her mouth.
Didn’t see her slip cubes of steak into her napkin or drop them onto the floor.
Didn’t think twice when she excused herself immediately after every single meal.
He didn’t see.” Though Daerios’s voice is still low, it’s infused with an unmistakable rage. “But I did.”
I want to reach for him. To take his hand or pull him into my arms. To do something.
“A month after Uian died, so did my mother. She collapsed to the cave floor, and she never got back up.”
I can take it no longer. I reach across the space between us and brush my fingers against his. He doesn’t hesitate, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly.
He takes one deep, steadying breath. “I blame him,” he says at last. “I blame my father. For not listening to the healers. For treating my mother like a soldier to be subdued, rather than someone sick who needed treatment.”
There’s a lump the size of a boulder in my throat. “Daerios—”
“I’m tired,” he says, cutting me off. “And it’s a long journey on foot tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”
With that, he turns over, and the subject is closed.
I’m lost. In the thirty minutes since I crawled under this blanket, I’ve been confused, aroused, annoyed, and now, absolutely and utterly devastated.
My heart is breaking for Daerios. I’m still furious at him, but I’m now also furious for him.
For the boy who had a knife held to his throat by his own father.
For the son who watched his mother wither away.
I want to find King Varrith and slit his throat in his sleep. I want to set the world on fire.
How the hell am I supposed to fall asleep?
Not to mention that it’s still freezing. Daerios wasn’t joking about trying to fall asleep in a land cloaked in permanent shadow. Even with the blanket, it isn’t enough. All I can do is lie here and fume.
After a few minutes of this, Daerios sighs. “You’re still shivering.”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
“Are you sure you don’t want some of my body heat?” he presses, shuffling closer under the blanket. “I’ve been told it’s quite soothing.”
“Who told you that? Some girl in Mykonos who just wanted to sleep with a prince?”
“Maybe.” Dirt crunches as he turns back over to face me. “Most people want to sleep with a prince. Especially this one.”
“Congratulations.” I coat my whisper with a thick layer of sarcasm. “You’re officially the cockiest asshole I’ve ever met.”
“I know,” he whispers. “Now scoot back.”
“No.”
“I’m serious, Quinn. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
Then I feel an arm wrap around my waist and pull me roughly backward. My butt lands against Daerios’s firm pelvis with a muffled thump.
“What the hell?” I hiss, wiggling furiously in an attempt to escape his clutches. “Let me go.”
“Nope.” His arm pulls me in tighter, so that my back is pressed flush to his chest. “I like having you in my arms. I think I’ll keep you awhile longer.”
I like having you in my arms. At those words, something within me thaws.
My insides don’t turn to putty, nothing ridiculous like that, but the block of ice that I’ve carried around in my chest since I learned about Daerios’s betrayal melts a little.
Just a little. Not enough that he could reach inside and split it open with a light touch from his deft fingers, but enough to make a difference.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But only because you’re, like, a thousand degrees, and I can’t sleep unless I’m wrapped up like a burrito.”
“Is that so?” he murmurs, his lips pressed close to my ear.
“Well, then. Let me wrap you up some more.” His bottom arm snakes under my torso and wraps around my chest so that he’s holding me in a warm hug.
One of his feet gently lifts my top ankle and threads itself in between my legs.
In the span of a breath, our bodies become tangled together.
My breath turns quick and shallow. I can feel Daerios’s heart thumping against my spine, and each beat sends a shock of electricity down my back.
His fingers run up and down my arms, causing goosebumps that have nothing to do with the chill.
Despite myself, I snuggle in closer, wiggling my backside into his pelvis, which elicits a shocked intake of breath from Daerios.
I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t get a thrill from the reaction my touch has on him, but I can’t help it.
I do it again. His hands clench my arms as I feel his erection push up against my backside.
“Someone’s not very sleepy after all,” I whisper.
“How in the gods’ names do you expect me to sleep when you keep doing that?”
“Mmmm.” I wiggle once more, just to torture him.