Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
HAVEN
I’d spent too much time with these men. They were wearing down my defenses. And as odious as I’d first found them, now when I considered them, I saw flawed individuals, not monsters.
That was especially true of Pierce. His warm chest and arms protected me from the cold, and the memory of our kiss lit a flame deep inside me. A flame that flickered and died when I remembered the way he’d jumped away from me when he thought Grayson might see us together.
“We need to find you a warmer cloak.” He wasn’t wrong. My cloak was purchased with mild winters in mind.
I suppressed a shiver. “I like this one.”
“How long have you had it?”
“Ten years. It was a gift from Grandmother.” I’d opened the package, and my fingers had hesitated to touch the beautiful fawn-hued fabric. Our clothes were always secondhand, but the cloak was new. Perfect. I’d thanked her with tears in my eyes.
“Sentimental value?” His chin touched the back of my head as he nodded. “I understand, but it’ll only get colder.”
I couldn’t stop an answering shiver. The cold was already bone-chilling, at least to a woman who’d never left the heat of the plains.
“Have you ever walked the streets near the king’s palace?”
I frowned and twisted in his arms until I saw his face. His expression was remote. Nothing new there. “Why do you ask?”
His lips quirked into a smile, and my foolish heart stuttered. A smiling Pierce was breathtaking. “Answer the question.”
“Yes, I’ve been there.” I’d peered through the windows at the fine clothing, the jewels, the delicate pastries, the boots made from buttery leather, the bottles of rare wine, then I’d gone home and counted my blessings.
“There’s a clothier on High Street.” His arms tightened around me. “With a red door. Have you seen it?”
I didn’t remember the red door. “No.”
“It sits between a candymaker and a cobbler. Big mullioned windows. Snooty sales staff. The owner is a woman with a hooked nose and icy blue eyes.”
The owner was irrelevant. Even if I’d noticed the store, I would never have entered, never have made her acquaintance.
But because Pierce had asked, I pictured High Street, searched for a red door, and didn’t find it.
Odd, because I made a habit of memorizing my surroundings. “I don’t remember that one.”
“Sure you do. There’s a baker across the street who makes the best tarts in the kingdom.”
I still couldn’t picture the store, but I knew the bakery. “Peach.”
“That’s the one. Just opposite. Red door.”
“Okay.” I still didn’t remember the store. In fact, I was fairly certain there was a haberdasher across the street from the bakery. But if Pierce insisted there was a clothier, I was willing to take his word for it.
“When you enter the boutique, you’ll see two walls covered with bolts of fabric.”
When I entered? I loved pretty things, but I’d never shop in a store like the one he described. I was from Grimswood. Hardship clung to me. The woman with the hooked nose would smell poverty, sneer, and then send me packing.
“There are silks and satins and the finest linens. The ladies who shop there have their dresses custom-made.”
“Who doesn’t?”
He chuckled at my sarcasm, and the sound reverberated through my whole body. “If you venture past the bolts of fabric and proceed to the back wall, you’ll find a rack of clothes for sale.”
“I thought everything was custom.”
“Almost. They create items for their window displays. And sometimes a customer will reject the clothing made for them. The color is wrong, or they claim it’s not flattering. On the rack, third hanger from the end, is a dark-gray cloak with fur lining.”
“Why would they make a fur-lined cloak?” In the winter, the temperature might—might—turn cold enough for the city’s residents to see their breath. Nothing like the cold that bit my fingers and toes now.
“It was made for a councillor’s wife. One who travels with her husband. She didn’t like the color. The cloak has been hanging on that rack for months.”
“You want me to summon it?”
“It will keep you warm.”
“You want me to steal.” Unlike the dagger, which I returned in perfect condition each time I used it, the cloak would show signs of wear.
He huffed at my pesky morals. “If it makes you feel better, I promise to pay for it when we return to the city. Now close your eyes and summon the cloak.”
I might have argued, but the cold was already settling into my bones. I did as he asked. I closed my eyes and imagined the cloak. Fine dark-gray wool. Fur trim around the hood. Fur lining. Deep pockets to keep my hands warm even on the coldest of days.
“That’s right.” Pierce gave my arm an encouraging squeeze. “Picture yourself wrapped in warmth.”
I was already wrapped in warmth, but he meant the cloak, not his strong arms or hard chest.
“You can do it.”
I’d never summoned something I hadn’t already seen, but Pierce’s encouraging tone made me try.
I wanted to please him. Wait, what? He’d helped take me from my home.
What was I thinking, wanting to please him?
Or kissing him? Or allowing butterflies to gather in my stomach like an invading force?
I’d lost my mind. My body stiffened, and my eyes flew open. “It’s not working.”
“I have faith in you.” His breath tickled the shell of my ear, and the shiver that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the cold. “Try again. Please, Haven.”
The wind cut straight through the cloak Grandmother gave me. That was the only reason I complied. I pictured the cloak Pierce described. I could almost feel its weight settling upon my shoulders, the softness of fur against my windblown cheek, the comforting warmth. Then I did feel those things.
“You did it!” Pierce sounded almost exuberant. Definitely triumphant.
My cheeks warmed, and I thrust my cold hands into the cloak’s deep, fur-lined pockets. “It was your excellent description.” And his encouragement.
He shook his head, and a strand of his white hair blew across my cheek. “Not me. You. It was all you.” He drew out the word you, giving it more importance than it deserved. “You’re amazing.”
I couldn’t contain my answering smile and was grateful he couldn’t see my reaction to his praise.
Thankfully, the unexpected, unwelcome gooey feelings in my chest were entirely invisible.
I bit my lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.
The sudden pain was a reminder. Letting Pierce past my defenses was insane.
Worse than insane. Trusting him could get me killed.
The guard wouldn’t protect me. Not Grayson.
Not Flynn. Not Teal. Not even Pierce. In their eyes, I was a shield. Expendable.
Grayson and the wyvern. He’d come back to fight the beast. He could have run. He hadn’t.
Then again, the wyvern would have chased them, and without me blocking its poison, they might have died.
And here I was, wrapped in Pierce’s arms while he worried about my warmth. He’d kissed me like I mattered, fought beside me like I was worth saving. He’d claimed me. Maybe he saw past my ability to shield. Perhaps he saw a woman, not a weapon in an unwinnable war. “At the inn …”
“Yes?”
“You said I was yours.”
The arms circling me stiffened. “You’re your own woman, but …”
“But what?” I needed to understand what that possessive claim meant. Especially after he’d jumped away from our kiss. His rejection still stung.
He was quiet for so long I wondered if he’d answer me. When he finally spoke, his voice was a rough whisper. “The mere thought of anyone else touching you makes me want to commit murder.”
Not the answer I was expecting. My mouth opened and closed as I tried to find a response.
“Snow!” I was almost grateful that Flynn had broken the tension.
Fat white flakes fell from the night sky. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’ve never seen snow?” asked Pierce. “Hold out your tongue.”
Was he serious? I twisted until I could see his face.
“Do it,” he whispered into my ear. His voice was pure seduction. Warm and rich and growly. Not a single woman in all of Legacia could have ignored his demand.
I did as he told me, catching a flake on the very tip of my tongue. The cold melted instantly.
Flynn moaned softly. “Haven, will you ride with me next?”
My mind immediately flew to the scene that had played out between him and Teal, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. If he saw my expression, he’d know I’d been watching. I was sure of it. Bad enough I’d watched. Worse, for a few insane seconds, I’d wanted to join them.
“Leave her alone, Flynn,” Pierce growled.
“You can hold her for now, but I’m not giving up. She’ll be mine.”
Annoyance tightened my spine. “She is right here, and with that attitude, I will never be yours.”
His expression turned smug. “Challenge accepted, Princess. Challenge accepted.”