Chapter Twenty-Six
Aren
I can’t sleep.
All I can see is her sallow, sunken face. I’m so upset I can’t think straight.
Before I can stop myself, I fold up my bedroll and walk through the darkness of camp. I’m so angry, I don’t even announce myself when I push open the flap of Dietan’s tent.
“Hey, you—” I’m about to unleash a torrent of curses, but then I see him.
He’s bathed, his hair still damp, lounging on his bedroll reading. He’s wearing a silk nightshirt open to the waist, his burnished skin made even more golden from the candlelight.
Oh.
It didn’t occur to me that he would look…like that.
He jumps when I enter. But when he realizes it’s just me, he relaxes a bit. “What’s up?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow and putting down his book.
I try not to look at the muscles peeking out from his shirt and focus on his face—which really isn’t making things better. The man’s as handsome as he is confusing, and he’s damned confusing, especially right now. I take a deep breath.
“Marcus said you’re sending me away tomorrow. Is that true?” I try to keep my voice steady. I can’t have him thinking I’m weak. Especially after everything we’ve already gone through.
Dietan looks at me coolly, like I’m interrupting his rest. “That is correct. You both leave at dawn.”
“But you need me,” I choke out. Anguish claws my throat raw. I drop the bedroll I’m holding. “You can’t just send me away. We had a deal.” My chest tightens with a painful ache, as if my heart is fracturing.
He looks bleak. “We’ve been set upon by bandits and the Kilandrar, and the Usurper’s troops are sure to follow. You saw what my enemies did to Lydia.”
I nod. I overheard Marcus talking to his men. She’d been interrogated, tortured, and then her throat had been slit. I shudder remembering that sweet, brave girl, and feel helpless with grief and rage.
“I can’t let it happen to you, too, Aren. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, deal or no deal.” He smiles grimly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your gold.”
Does he really think that all I care about is the gold? Does he take me to be that greedy? That shallow? I begin to protest.
He holds up a hand. “I know we planned for you to leave after we made it to Alba, but we’ve taken this farce as far as it can go. I need to make sure you’re safe. Tomorrow, Marcus will escort you back to Evandale. I’ll continue on with the rest of my men.”
The word “farce” feels like a slap in the face. My stomach sinks. “You’re sending me home?” I’ve missed my family, but the thought of going back now is no comfort.
“Or wherever you want to go. But you can’t stay.”
You can’t stay with me, is what he’s saying. You’re no longer useful. My heart twists.
“No,” I say, exasperated. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s like he hasn’t learned anything about me. I don’t give up.
“That was our agreement,” he says tightly. “At the first sign of danger, you’ll go with my guards somewhere secure. There have already been too many close calls.” More softly, placatingly, he adds, “You needn’t worry. Marcus will keep you safe. He’s the best there is.”
“But I—” I feel safe with you, I want to say. I want to be with you, I want to say. But I don’t. For a moment, Dietan looks like there’s more he wants to say, too, but then he pointedly picks up his book.
I remain standing there with my mouth still open, even as no words form.
“Yes? You have something else to discuss?” He sounds annoyed from behind the pages.
He looks up at me with his eyes narrowed, and I don’t care for that look one bit.
“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” I snap, crossing my arms. “And I’m not going anywhere!”
“Look, let’s talk about it in the morning, okay? Go to bed. We’re both exhausted. And you should…” He gestures at my chest. “Your wrap is…”
I look down. In my rush to shout at him, I hastily threw a shawl over my dress, and in my anger, it’s slipped off my shoulders, pulling the neckline of my dress down with it.
He’s blushing as he turns away, and I feel hot—with more than mere anger—as my chest heaves.
I wrap the shawl tightly around me, even more annoyed with both Dietan and myself. He probably thinks I’m a mess, nothing like the princesses he’s used to who wouldn’t have a hair out of place.
He can’t even look at me.
But I’m not leaving. He’ll be just as stubborn in the morning. Two can play that game.
My tent is on the opposite side of camp, and the walk feels like an eternity. Even though we’re hidden in a forest, with guardsmen on watch, it’s too isolated. Goddess damn it all… After what they did to Lydia… I don’t want to be alone tonight.
“My tent doesn’t feel safe,” I blurt.
“Marcus and the men will protect you. It’s everyone’s sworn duty,” he says, looking everywhere else in the tent but at me.
“It’s their sworn duty to protect you,” I point out.
Dietan’s face softens, but he doesn’t argue. He told me it never gets any easier when people who swore oaths to protect him get hurt. It’s just part of being royal.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
But I have to keep reminding myself that none of this is real. I’m never going to be his princess. I can’t forget that I’m not worth anyone’s sacrifice.
“Look, can’t I just stay here tonight?” I ask, trying not to sound pathetic. Now he’ll definitely send me away in the morning, but at least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
Dietan looks momentarily confused, then stands up. “Ah…yeah, of course you can stay here,” he says, softening slightly. “This tent isn’t any safer than yours, but…whatever you prefer. Yours is near the fire, right?”
He walks toward the tent flap. The dumbass thinks I asked him if we could switch. That is not at all what I meant.
“No, I want to stay here,” I say, putting a hand on his arm, “with you.”
Dietan freezes as if I’ve turned him to stone. The tension in his shoulders could shatter bricks. I can’t see his face from this angle, though I can see his jaw muscle twitch.
“No,” he says sharply and shakes me off.
The rejection stings like a slap. “Why?” I ask, trying to hide the tears in my voice. “I’m supposed to be your fiancée, right? I’ve heard about your reputation; I doubt your men would care. I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”
“You don’t understand,” he says roughly.
“Don’t understand what?”
Dietan finally looks me in the eye. As if he’s admitting something shameful, he says, “Aren, I don’t share a bed with anyone.”
Oh, please. From what I’ve overheard of his guards’ conversations, he has quite the reputation at court as a philanderer whose bed is warmed by a steady rotation of willing ladies.
Right?
Unless…the rumors are deliberately untrue? I examine him carefully. He’s hidden one secret for half his life; he must have more.
“I just don’t want to be alone tonight,” I say, hoping to put him at ease.
“Alone,” he echoes softly.
His eyes bore into mine, his gaze so intense, I take a step back. My wrap falls off one shoulder.
He looks at my exposed skin like it’s burning him alive. I shrug the shawl back up, but he stops me with a hand on my bare skin. I think he’s going to pull it up, but his hand just remains there, holding me, touching me.
I gaze up at him, at his half-lidded eyes. My body is on fire with the heat between us. His hand trembles on my skin.
“Dietan…” I whisper.
He’s so close. I turn my chin up toward him. My head is spinning, and my insides are twisted up and melting. We lean toward each other. The air between us crackles.
But then he closes his eyes and groans, his shoulders sinking. He yanks my wrap back up over my shoulder and releases me, like he can’t stand to touch me.
I read that totally wrong. He doesn’t want me at all.
“You really don’t like me, do you?” I say, trying to tamp down the hurt in my voice.
When he opens his eyes again, his irises blaze green in the firelight. He drags a hand through his golden hair and shakes his head. “I just—I don’t want to share a tent with anyone, all right?”
“With anyone, or with me?” This time, I can’t hide the ache in my voice.
See, I’ve noticed that he’s started to act differently toward me after being on the road together for so long.
The aggressive charm he uses on everyone else has disappeared.
I can tell he’s himself around me. He seeks me out.
We’ve walked together for hours, sometimes just sharing a comfortable silence, our hands finding each other for small caresses.
Maybe none of that matters now.
“Just admit it. You regret asking someone as common as me to be your fake bride. You asked me because no one else would be stupid enough to go on this dangerous Wedding March with you with war coming, but I thought…” I falter when I glance up at him; he looks wild, angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
His lips are pressed into a thin line, but still he says nothing, and I’m desperate to fill this terrible silence, to change that look on his face, so I keep talking.
“You’re the only one here I can talk to, but every night you hide yourself away.
” I exhale, feeling more vulnerable than I’ve ever been.
But I can’t stop the words from flowing out of my lips.
“I know I’m not really your bride, that I volunteered to be part of this lie so you can save the kingdoms. But after all the awful things that’ve happened, I just want to feel like we’re on the same mission, together.
I feel so lost some days. I just need… I need… ”
I need you.
I wish he’d say something—anything. I can’t read him. If I knew him better, I’d swear he looks anguished, like he wants to speak, but then the pain in his eyes disappears as if it was never there in the first place.
Screw it. I point at the hard ground between us. “I just want to sleep here. Is that so much to ask?” I point to my bedroll lying next to his, like I’m planting a flag, staking my claim on land that belongs to him.
Finally, Dietan raises his chin and looks down at me, a prince again, unmovable. “Yes, you signed up for this,” he says, his voice low. “I told you it would be a hard journey. I told you not to come. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you more than was agreed. And you can’t stay here.”
I’m sure as hell not going to make this easy for him. We both know what’s out there. He’ll have to throw me out himself. I step so close to him that I can smell the soap he used. I look up at him, once again irritated by how stupidly tall he is. I could slap him—I should.
Instead, shocking even myself with my boldness, I put my hands on his face and force him to look me in the eye.
My anger dissipates, leaving only pain and fear.
“I’m scared, okay? After what happened to Lydia, what we saw in that village, I just want to sleep somewhere I feel safe.
” Though it kills me to admit it, I finally add, “I feel safe with you.”
He puts his hands on mine and wrenches them away, but I fight him. We stand there, locked in place. His eyes are filled with ice and fire.
His hold on my wrists is tight. His pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare.
“It’s for your own safety. Why won’t you listen?” he says. And then, as if he can’t help himself, he pulls me tightly against him.
He’s holding me so closely I can feel his entire body against mine. He’s all muscle pressing against my softest parts. I can’t breathe. He feels so good. He bends down, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, and groans. “Gods, why are you so infuriating?”
“I could say the same about you,” I murmur, breathing against his warm, bare chest. “Let me stay here, just for tonight.”
“I wish I could. I really wish I could,” he says raggedly, “but I can’t.” He tears himself away and practically pushes me away from him, still holding the book he was reading.
I stumble, catching my footing at the last minute before I fall. Harvest Mother, what is wrong with him? He’s hot and cold, and cold again.
“You asked me to help you, to come on this quest with you. I know when we’re in public—when you kiss my cheek and hold me for everyone to see—it’s all an act.
But you know what I think?” Dietan lifts an eyebrow.
He looks almost as indifferent as a statue.
He’s so beautiful in the firelight, but now I can see the turmoil behind his eyes.
“I think you’re afraid to admit that you have feelings for me.
Real feelings—as much as you pretend you don’t.
And that’s the true reason you’re sending me away—because you can’t stand to think you might like some peasant barmaid for more than just a roll in the hay! ”
He has a scary smile on his face. I know I’m right, so I continue.
“That’s the truth, isn’t it? You hate me, but you hate yourself more because you want me! And I know you want me!” I wave a hand at my body. “Even if you act like a cold, indifferent prince, I know you! So just admit it!”
Dietan smiles like he’s gotten caught. He drags his tongue against his bottom teeth. Neither of us moves, until he throws his book across the tent in a fit of temper. A forceful gale suddenly blows all around, headed toward me.
I almost laugh, but I don’t, because Dietan suddenly collapses. He falls to the floor, his hands at his throat. The wind dies before it can hurt me.
I drop to my knees next to him. “Dietan! What’s happening? Dietan!”
“I can’t—I can’t breathe…”
An otherworldly breeze fills the tent once more.
But this time, the Whisting is killing him from the inside. The fire in the lanterns starts to flicker and dim as Dietan is smothered by an invisible force.
“Dietan, no!” I scream at him. “Make it stop!” I cradle him in my arms as he fights for his life. “Breathe! Breathe!”
Tears burn his eyes as he thrashes. He can’t break free. My terror brings everything into focus. I feel his hands struggle, feel his magic sucking the life out of him.
Harvest Mother, he’s going to die.
And I killed him.