Chapter 37
Mora
Howling winds buffeted the ice-coated window, their frozen fingers slipping through cracks in the panes to glide over Mora’s skin. She shivered, nuzzling deeper into the fur-lined blankets Castellan had tucked around her before he’d left.
“I’m surprised your barn still stands,” she said to Eris, eyeing the old structure, peeling yellow paint barely clinging to weather-worn wood.
Eris yawned from his perch on the bed, stretching his long legs over rumpled sheets. “She’s got a few good years left.” Dark circles stained the skin beneath half-lidded eyes, the warmth faded from his honey-beige complexion—Mora was certain he’d fall asleep.
The hay door shuddered against the gale’s onslaught, errant bits of straw torn free by the torrent. “I doubt it’ll last the day.”
“You have little faith, Vicious Thing.” He sat up, peering out at the burgeoning storm, idly brushing his finger over the quill Castellan had left on the nightstand. “It’s survived worse.”
Mora twisted in the sitting chair she’d claimed as her bed, an amused grin on her face. “If I had any coin to gamble, I’d bet it wouldn’t last the winter.”
A half-hearted smirk was all Eris offered while he stared past the barn, to the rolling hills and spindly pines looming in the distance. “It’s empty anyway. I sold our livestock before I sent my family away.”
Her throat bobbed. He’d tried to hide his pain, but it weaved into his tone, an ache etched into the strong lines of his face.
Mora recognized it well. It was close to the grief she witnessed on her own features when she stared in the mirror.
Though, hopefully, one day he’d find his way back to his loved ones; they were only separated by an ocean, after all. “I’m sorry.”
“Careful, Princess”—Eris’s dark eyes fixed on her—“or I may start to think you care.”
Mora held his stare, fingers curling around the smooth cuffs of the oversized black tunic she’d found among Eris’s things.
It reminded her of the meadow. Of him. A delicate touch of mint was somehow woven into the fibers, as if her dreams held onto her long after she woke.
All week, it had grounded her when she needed it, pulling her from the misery in her mind.
Now, however, her heart fluttered and she could hardly stand it. “I—”
Eris lifted a hand and shook his head. “Let me dream, Vicious Thing. Besides, I should be the sorry one.” Castellan’s quill plinked against the inkwell when Eris released it, black bits of ink splashing against the glass interior.
“I didn’t think to keep a few horses. Cas is probably cursing me out as we speak. ”
Mora snickered. “That’s on him for venturing out in the cold to send his letters.
” Tossing her blankets aside, she stood and stretched her arms above her head, Eris’s tunic brushing against her knees.
The Fae’s lingering scent filling her lungs with her yawn.
“Whoever he’s writing to, I’m sure they can wait. ”
“I assume it’s mainly his sister.”
“He has a sister?” Mora pursed her lips, trying to picture a Lady Briar, but she could only think of Castellan’s mother. “I don’t believe I know her.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Eris mumbled, watching her wander across the room to fetch the glass of water waiting on the other bedside table, his focus slipping down her form to the curve of her hips.
Long, dark brown curls swished with every step, grazing her lower back.
There was hardly room to move, gray sheets brushing her thigh as she squeezed through the small space between the bed and the wall—she couldn’t bring herself to sit on the mattress, but its nearness no longer stole her breath.
“Oh?” she asked with a raised brow, lifting her cup to her lips. Cool water splashed on her tongue, soothing her throat and awakening her empty stomach.
Eris’s quiet laugh made her pulse flutter. “Gods be damned, your bright eyes loosen my tongue.” He blew out a breath. “This isn’t my story to tell, temptress, you’ll have to ask Castellan.”
Her mouth twisted into a pout. “I doubt he’ll be in a talking mood.”
For days, their routine had been the same.
Castellan and Imani fought while Jade shared her own misgivings, and Mora avoided the kitchen, uninterested in talks of crowns and revolution.
Eris, thank the stars, was all too happy to bring her food while she hid away upstairs.
When the day ended, Castellan retired to their room—Eris’s room, the poor man sleeping gods knew where—too exhausted for serious conversation.
He’d attempted to discuss their possible union once but learned better when Mora glared back.
Still, his closeness soothed her—night after night, her dreams grew more peaceful, Dother’s haunting eyes lost to an endless forest, the Fae protecting her within his empty meadow.
A growl rumbled in her stomach, and Eris grinned, his feet hitting the floor before the gurgling ceased. “I suppose it’s time I feed you,” he declared, padding across old hardwood, creaky floorboards whining.
It was odd, how he doted on her, though Mora couldn’t be sure of his motives.
Did he truly see her, or was he intrigued by the prospect of bedding a royal?
It was possible Castellan had asked Eris to watch over his intended queen in his absence, though Mora couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Part of her liked having him near, his presence a welcome thing when she found herself craving a glittering onyx stare softened by an adoration she couldn’t understand.
Besides, she wasn’t above using his infatuation to her advantage.
“I’ve been meaning to ask...” Mora took another sip of her drink, glancing at Eris over the rim. “Do you happen to have any chocolate?”
“That depends.” A coy smile played on his handsome face—Eris shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door. “What do you want it for?”
“To eat...”
“Anything for you, Vicious Thing.” He pushed away from his perch, mirthful eyes never leaving her face.
“If you find yourself craving someone to lick it off of later, you know where to find me.” Eris winked, his tongue gliding over his teeth.
Then he pulled the door open and disappeared into the hall.
The air left the room with him, Mora’s body frozen in the crevice between the bed and the wall, heat blooming between her thighs. Her heart a steady thrum. Yet, somehow, she shivered, her fingers like ice as she clutched her glass tighter.
Before she could decide how she felt, a flash of orange tore through a mass of heavy, gray clouds, a ball of flames erupting in the sky.
It lit up the lands, fat snowflakes crashing into the window as if pushed by an errant wind.
Then the fire winked out, the world somehow darker than it had been before.
Magic tugged on Mora’s bones, a sharp ache throbbing in her chest. She swayed toward the window, smoke bubbling beneath her skin, her frigid, vaporous beast pressing against her ribs. Ready to tear her apart.
Halflings were in trouble, and Castellan’s wish demanded she save them. Now.