Chapter 48
Mora
Flames reached for the night sky, crackling embers drifting toward the stars, doomed to burn before they found a place in the heavens.
Mora lifted her hands toward the blaze, stretching her fingers and searching for her own fire.
She could feel it, somewhere, beneath a mass of glittering onyx.
A tiny, fragile thing suffocating in the dark.
Slipping further away whenever she reached for it.
A sad smile rose on her face—Mora gave up, running her empty hand along the spongy carpet of moss cushioning the old log she’d settled on, bits of ice melting beneath her palm.
Across the fire, Halflings laughed together with the few humans who’d joined them, drinking the last dregs of wine Eris had packed weeks ago when they’d left.
Imani and Jade dancing giddily to a song only they could hear.
They were somewhere between Galdon’s Crossing and Syldith, deep in the woods—it was no Forbidden Forest, but they’d found a place to settle, walls of ancient evergreens holding them safely in their bosom.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Mora startled at the sound of Castellan’s voice. “You know better than to scare me.”
He lifted his hands in supplication, but Mora didn’t miss the wicked amusement glittering in his gray stare.
“That wasn’t my intention, Princess.” Castellan stepped over the log, settling beside her, before dropping his bag between his feet.
“I’ve returned from Galdon’s Crossing and wanted to speak with you. ”
“Did you send another letter?”
Shadows darkened his eyes. “She stopped writing back weeks ago, and I’m worried.” He sighed. “You must think I’m overbearing.”
Mora hesitated before placing her hand on his shoulder, Castellan’s breath stilling.
Was this the first time she’d initiated touch since they’d met?
Her first attempt at gentle reassurance?
A light tremor rattled her palm, but Castellan’s kind smile felt safe.
“I think your sister is lucky to be so loved.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, unbothered when she pulled away and clasped her hands in her lap.
She felt Eris’s stare before she found it, his dark gaze fixed on her face, flames dancing between them. When their eyes met, he winked, his smile wide. Tongue running along the dull point of one of his canines.
Warmth bloomed in her core when she imagined them sharper, pressed against her skin, a delicious pinch on her throat...
A flush crawled across her cheekbones, flooding her face until it reached her ears. What was wrong with her?
Castellan followed her focus, tipping his chin at Eris in greeting. “You can go talk to them, you know.”
Her laugh was bitter. “It’s best I don’t.
” Mora knew what would happen if she drew near.
The way the Halflings would quiet. Ice scraping beneath boots while they inched away, maddening whispers about the massacre at Galdon’s Crossing flitting through the air.
Her presence stole what little joy they’d scavenged, while their fear stole her last nerve.
How on earth could she ever be their queen?
“You’re allowed to make friends.” He hesitated, glancing back at his fellow guard before adding, “Or something more—I see the way you look at Eris.”
“Oh gods.” Mora scrubbed a hand down her face, the burn in her cheeks growing hotter. “This is how you speak to your future wife?”
“We’ll be married on paper; I expect you to pursue whomever you wish and intend to do the same. Discreetly, of course, once we’re wed. So, now would be the ideal time for a loud romp, if you enjoy such things.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m half tempted to never speak with you again. Did Eris put you up to this?”
Castellan snickered. “You think I’m in the business of arranging bedfellows? Eris is capable enough on his own.” He shifted on the log, his full attention falling upon her. “I want you to have something for yourself, whatever it may be.”
Unease curdled in Mora’s stomach. Could she have such things? Would she ever have them again? “I don’t believe I’m ready for something intimate. Nor am I sure I want him.”
Castellan raised a brow. “Oh?” His voice was too casual, fingers plucking bits of frost-coated lichen from rotting bark and tossing them into the snow, but Mora saw how he watched her with keen interest, the way a cat watched a mouse.
She should have known better—nobles loved gossip.
Peeking up through her lashes, she watched Eris once more.
An easy grin played on his handsome face as he accepted a lute from Imani, long fingers strumming over delicate strings.
Firelight glazing his cheeks. As he played, the Halflings danced, his melody as enthralling as his charm. Dark eyes alight.
They were beautiful... but they didn’t make her think of quiet midnights graced with glittering pools of starlight.
“He reminds me of someone, that’s all,” she said, her attention drifting to the early evening sky. “Now, leave me. I’m sure there are people far more interesting than I. Why not find someone to warm your own bedroll?”
Castellan tilted his head to the side and gave her a look, as if to say, and where would you sleep?
“You make a good point,” she muttered, knowing—hating—that she couldn’t sleep alone. Castellan guarded her dreams as much as the Fae, his nearness somehow a boon... so long as he kept enough distance.
“Don’t worry, Princess, I enjoy your company as well.
” The guard lifted his hand to clap Mora on the shoulder before thinking better of it.
His arm dropped back to his side, but his smile never faltered.
“Tell me about this man you’re pining over.
For you, I might be willing to play matchmaker.
Or we could convince Eris to pretend...”
He wiggled his brows and Mora was tempted to smack him, a quiet laugh blooming in her chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
He laughed along with her. “And you adore me for it.” It was difficult not to admire the splash of freckles on his cheeks; they’d grown more numerous during their travels, a warm glow to his skin, kissed by the sun.
They reminded her of Philip. Of life before. Gods, it hurt to think of him, the weight of what she’d done a festering wound that refused to heal. It likely never would. Mora expected to live an eternity drowning in memories of those she’d lost, all because of Dother’s covetous hands.
Remembering Philip fondly, however, was a gift. May that sweet, loyal man haunt her for the rest of her days.
Castellan’s unwavering stare didn’t miss the tears lining her lashes. “Tell me,” he whispered, leaning closer, his scent a crisp ocean breeze softened by sage and cuddled in the last dregs of winter’s chill.
He assumes I’m crying over a lover, Mora thought, nearly scoffing as she wiped the moisture on her sleeve, her cloak a stolen piece of one of Eris’s King’s Guard uniforms. A taste of home. “I can’t even say we’ve met. Not truly.”
“How scandalous,” he mocked, pressing his hand against his chest like a lady clutching her pearls.
“Honestly, I shouldn’t care for him at all.
” Tapping her finger on the log, Mora took a deep breath, savoring the kiss of pine on the breeze.
In her dreams, the air felt like power, invigorating her in a way little else could, the Fae her near-constant companion.
His meadow her safe haven. Yet, if he were to walk out from the trees here and now, well...
“If I saw him, I can’t decide if I’d slam my fist into his face or run away. ”
Castellan chuckled. “I’ve spent enough time with you to know it would be the former. He’d be lucky if he had a face once you were done.”
Mora glanced sidelong at him, a knowing gleam in her honeyed amber eyes. He may have been right. “Yet, in my dreams...”
“Ah, I see.”
“See what?”
“Where there is hatred, darling princess, there is passion.” He grinned, running his tongue over his teeth as if he savored a salacious memory. “It can certainly be fun.”
Without thought, Mora slapped his bicep, thick, charcoal material wrinkling beneath her touch. “You rake!”
He shrugged. “Life’s too short for prudish sensibilities.”
Mora rolled her eyes and Castellan smiled wider. “My situation is nothing like that.” Branches swayed above them, shadows playing among the firelight like they did amidst the golden aura glowing in her dream meadow. “He saves me,” she breathed. “Night after night, he saves me.”
“From?”
Gods, what was she doing, baring another piece of her soul?
Mora’s lips thinned. “Never mind.” Snow and half-frozen earth squished beneath her boots as she made to stand, but Castellan placed his hand on her knee, halting her, his warmth seeping through her leggings.
It chased away the late winter chill, but that didn’t stop the goosebumps from rising on her flesh in the wake of an unexpected touch.
She froze, breath hitching. Fingers digging into bark. Half-rotten moss catching beneath her nails.
“Shit.” Castellan pulled away, hands escaping to his lap. “I’m sorry.”
Tension drained from her body and she eased back into her seat.
“It’s okay,” she muttered, but a flush darkened her cheeks once more, heat radiating on her face.
How long would she struggle with the unanticipated press of someone’s hand?
Would the weight of a comforting touch be too much to bear for the rest of her days?
She hated that she couldn’t control her body’s reaction, even among those she was growing to trust.
“It’s just...” Castellan paused, mulling over his words. “You needn’t suffer alone. I won’t judge you.”
“I know.”
Castellan nodded. “I would hope so,” he said, gray eyes softening. It loosened some of the tightness in Mora’s chest. “Now, tell me more about this dream man of yours. You can’t leave me in the dark this far into the story.”