CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Yes, he loved Ilain. He felt all the things a man should feel for his wife. He would live and die for her. But could he Bond with her? Could he go through that terrifyingly intimate exchange of his inmost self and accept the role of . . . what exactly? Ruler of a country that didn’t yet exist?
Ethenn shut himself in his room, the darkness pressing into him.
The cold air nipped at his face and hands, the only parts of him exposed.
Though his ceremonial uniform wasn’t as elaborate as Deckard’s or Evylin’s, it was on the stuffy side.
He undid the cravat, ready to be free of its choking grip.
It was only the second one he’d worn in his life—the first being at Renaul’s.
Of what use were cravats to Ethenn? He was a hunter, a fighter, not suited for society’s frippery.
So how could he be what Ilain needed him to be?
Ethenn was a fool—a blind, wishful, idealistic fool. This was why he’d never said anything about his potential powers. He knew he wasn’t made for this life, so why pretend? Why act like a Warrior when all he’d ever be was a town boy with broken dreams and blood on his hands?
Ethenn tossed the cravat angrily at the open wardrobe. It hit the back wall, right where he’d aimed. Then he wrestled off his coat, throwing it in next. Everything he’d been given to wear tonight was black—the garb of a Warrior, he’d come to understand. It all felt wrong.
He couldn’t become the leader she’d want him to be.
After lighting the corner stove to heat the room, Ethenn went to the bedside. He turned on the oil lamp and sat down to pull off his boots. And then he stayed there, staring into the darkness for untold minutes, trying to puzzle out just what he was supposed to do.
Should he break off the betrothal just as it began? That’s what an honorable man would do, wasn’t it? It’s what Colonel Deckard would do. He would let her be with a man who loved her and was the leader she desired, not some damaged brute who burned with an inner rage.
But then again, Deckard had advised Ethenn to be honest, to love Ilain with his whole soul. Could that be his redemption, loving her? And wasn’t that what Bonding was intended to be? Loving someone so much that you gave them a piece of your soul.
Ethenn blew out a heavy breath. He was too tired for these thoughts, too confused to adequately weigh the right and wrong of them. So he stood, kicked his boots out of the way, and untucked his shirt when a knock sounded at his door.
Pausing, Ethenn stared at the door, sure he’d misheard.
A second, more insistent knock came.
Ethenn lifted his eyes to the ceiling, realizing that Thom hadn’t been successful, and Rafferty was here to collect him. Well, he wasn’t interested in getting plastered a second night.
Letting his shirt hang loosely about his waist, Ethenn crossed the room, preparing to tell Rafferty to go away. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Rafferty on the other side.
In shock, Ethenn couldn’t quite process her presence until she was already pushing her way into his room. “Ilain?” he said, bewildered. “What are you doing here?”
“Shut the door, would you?” Ilain said. “It’s letting in a draft.”
Dumbfounded, Ethenn did as requested. Ilain strode into the room, a small carpetbag in hand. The moonlight caught on her white dress, making her look like a beam of light herself. She turned in a circle, surveying the small space, before looking at him. “Our rooms are identical,” she noted.
Not sure what else to do, Ethenn just gaped at her.
“You look like a fish,” she said.
He shut his mouth. “What are you doing here?” he asked again.
Ilain gave him a look that said it should be obvious. “Well, it’s night, darling. And as you said a short while ago, we have an early morning.” She dropped her bag onto the foot of the bed. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Sleep?” Ethenn repeated. “In here?”
“Yes, of course.”
“This is my room.”
“If you want to be technical about it.”
Ethenn shook his head frantically. “You can’t—Ilain, you need to go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We aren’t sleeping together.”
She regarded him thoughtfully for several seconds before crossing her arms. “Ethenn, I told you this morning that this is expected. Husbands and wives share a bed, so we will too.”
“We aren’t married,” he argued.
“We’re betrothed,” she returned. “Which means we’re in a trial marriage, which further means we ought to try and give this our best shot, hm?”
Ethenn stared at her, incredulous.
Ilain muttered something under her breath, then gave him a placating look. “Don’t worry, dearest. I’ll keep your honor intact.”
“It’s not my honor I’m worried about,” he admitted.
She laughed and turned to her bag. “In Wauld,” she said, pulling out a small pile of items, “you have every right to my womanly virtue, Ethenn. Should anyone question our liaisons, my reputation would remain beyond reproach regardless.”
Though Ethenn wanted to tell her that she was missing the point, the words escaped him when she promptly sat down and lifted her skirts. “Ilain!” he exclaimed, whirling around to avert his gaze. “You can’t just undress in front of men like that.”
“I’m removing my stockings, you prude,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Besides, I’m not undressing in front of men. I’m undressing in front of my husband.”
“In Ephria,” he said, glaring at the wall, “women don’t undress in front of any man unless they are intending on . . .” He cut off, his imagination rampant with images of that white dress pooling on the floor.
“On what?” Ilain prompted.
“Seducing him,” Ethenn said through clenched teeth.
She let out a feminine chuckle. “Perhaps I am intending to seduce you.”
He scoffed.
“You think it impossible?” she noted.
“I think it improbable,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
“Mm.” The bed creaked as she rose behind him. “Well, I need you to get over your puritanical Ephrian notions and help me.”
Cautiously, Ethenn began to look over his shoulder. Seeing that she was still fully dressed, he felt safe to turn around. “Help with what?” he asked.
She angled so he could see the back of her dress, lined with buttons. “I can’t reach.”
Ethenn blushed. “You want me to undress you?”
She smirked. “I want you to unbutton my dress,” she said, then mockingly added, “There’s a difference.”
“Oh.”
“Unless, of course,” she added, raising her brow, “you want to undress me.”
Unsure if she was jesting or not, Ethenn shook his head. “Do I just—?” He stepped closer, inspecting the small buttons. He didn’t quite have the confidence to touch her yet, so he merely stared. “Unhook them?”
“That’s usually how you undo buttons, yes.”
Ethenn met her gaze. “Don’t make fun of me,” he said flatly.
Her grin slipped for a second. “I’m not.”
“You just did.”
Taking a deep breath, Ilain shifted to face him.
“Ethenn, I’m not making fun of you,” she said.
“Though I understand how it might have sounded that way. Believe it or not, I’m rather nervous too.
However, I believe getting comfortable together is the best course, as we’ve promised our lives to one another after all.
And I can’t get out of this dress by myself.
So it’s either having you help me, or I interrupt Isla, Vayden, and Reyana’s last night together to have my sister-in-law spare us this little moment of awkwardness. ”
She turned away, her back angling toward him.
A twinge of guilt went through Ethenn. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Ilain feeling nervous. He’d never known her to be anything but unerringly confident. But she was right; if they were going to be together, he had to learn the signs of her true feelings, especially in moments like these.
Cautiously lifting a hand, Ethenn reached for the top button. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I—sometimes, I have a hard time reading people.”
Ilain pulled her hair out of the way, making the work easier for him. “That’s all right,” she said softly. “I’m known for being hard to read.”
Ethenn kept talking to distract himself from the thin line of ivory skin and gauzy chemise revealed by the unhooked buttons. “You always seemed open about your feelings to me,” he said.
“Oh, no,” Ilain said, a hint of humor in her lilting tone. “I’ve always been quite the skilled liar.”
Ethenn grinned wryly as he struggled with the tiny buttons. “You admit to being a liar?”
“The best liars are always honest.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if you’re dishonest.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Just ask Rafferty.”
“If you’re saying that I’ve gotten myself attached to the female version of Rafferty, then I’m afraid this union is at its end.”
“Nonsense. I’m vastly superior to the female version of Rafferty. For one thing, I have scruples.”
“And,” Ethenn added, undoing the last button at the base of her spine, “you can’t do sleight of hand.”
She shot a suggestive look over her shoulder. “Oh, I have my own ways of making things disappear.”
The innuendo slammed into Ethenn like a ram, knocking the wind out of him. He was certain his whole body had flushed red at the thoughts her words conjured. “Who the hell taught you to say things like that?” he asked.
“No one,” she said. “I’m just a desperately lonely forty-three-year-old woman.”
Ethenn grimaced. “I don’t like it when you say stuff like that, Ilain.”
“Self-deprecating comments?”
“That you’re forty-three.”
She smiled. “But I am forty-three.”
“And I’m twenty-one,” he replied. “It makes me uncomfortable knowing that you’re—you’re . . .”
“Older than your mother?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes.”