Chapter 21 #2
He pauses, glancing down at his hands like he’s suddenly not sure what to do with them, then moves closer.
Slowly, like he’s approaching a skittish animal until he sits on the edge of the bed near my feet.
The mattress dips under his weight and the faint scent of him reaches me—leather and a spice I don’t recognize.
“I want you to come with me,” he says.
My heart trips over itself again. “To headquarters?”
“Yes. You said you came here to understand humans better, to see if there’s anything worth saving.
Headquarters is the heart of our operations.
The source of most of the decisions you’re trying to work around or undo.
If you’re going to try to influence this war from our side, that’s where you’d need to start. ”
Images flicker through my mind: rooms full of men who are pushing for this war against the supernaturals, maps with markers that signify target zones of people I may have met while visiting the factions, and somewhere in the middle of all of that, Ryoden trying to stand between me and whatever those people would do if they realized who and what I am.
“There are dangers,” he continues, not sugarcoating it.
“For both of us. If they smell even a hint of supernatural influence on you, if they decide you’re a weapon they can turn on their enemies, they won’t hesitate to use you, cage you, or worse.
If they think I’m hiding something major, my career is over, and likely my life along with it.
But this is the only way I can honor my word to keep you safe, and it’s an opportunity for you and your mission. ”
My mind flashes back to Derrick on the edge of my bed earlier, his expression grave.
If you have even an ounce of bravery in you, you stay.
My decision settles in my bones before I even realize I’ve made it.
“Then I’ll go.” The words come out firmer than I feel. “With you.”
His head jerks slightly, eyes widening in surprise. “Just like that?”
“I’m the one who dragged you into this impossible position,” I admit, meeting his gaze. “You didn’t ask for a weaver to fall into your city and upend the entire thing. I did that by existing. If you’re walking into the lion’s den because of me, I’m not letting you go alone.”
My chest tightens as I continue, because saying this out loud feels every bit as vulnerable as anything I admitted about the kings.
“We’re partners in this now,” I add quietly. “Whether either of us wanted that or not. And I…respect you, Ryoden. A lot. I trust that you’re doing what you think is best, not just for your people, but for everyone. So if you think this is the right move, I’ll make it with you.”
Color rises along his cheekbones, a slow flush that makes him look a little younger, and a little less like the unshakable colonel.
“Partners,” he repeats, tasting the word like it’s new. “I’m glad you see it that way.”
He shifts on the mattress, clearing his throat, and suddenly looks almost…nervous.
“Because,” he says, a little stiffly, “it’s going to be slightly more complicated than just bringing you along as a…guest.”
My brows draw together, confused as to how this could get any worse. “Complicated how?”
He drags a hand over the back of his neck, fingers rubbing at the muscles there.
“The General wants all colonels at headquarters within three days, under the guise of a formal event. A ball.” His mouth twists around the word like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.
“Most of the high-ranking officers will bring their wives or…companions. It’s expected.
A chance to display unity, wealth, stability with strong couples. You understand.”
“I don’t,” I say honestly, struggling to understand what he’s getting at.
I would think we’re at the point of being considered companions by now, though I don’t know the term ‘wives.’
He blinks twice at me. “You don’t…what?”
“Understand,” I repeat, slow and careful. “You’re going to have to be more specific. You’re using terms I don’t…have context for.”
I shake the exhaustion and annoyance instantly bubbling within me for the stubborn silence of the earth. It wants me to save it, yet it won’t supply me with the basic understanding of things anymore.
He stares at me for a long moment, then exhales in a soft, disbelieving huff.
“Right…of course. Okay, so…” His hands clasp together in his lap before twisting and falling back to press against his thighs.
“My request is that you come with me, but in order for that to be believable and to protect you, I need you to…play a role.”
The way he says it makes something in my stomach flip. “What role?”
“My fiancée,” he says.
The unfamiliar word lands between us and sits there, heavy and unyielding.
“I…” I start, then stop, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I still don’t know what that means.”
I hate how dense and clueless my lack of experience in this world makes me seem. It’s embarrassing and leaves me open to manipulation from people who would seek to take advantage of me and this gap of knowledge.
“A fiancée is…” he begins, voice gentler.
“someone you intend to marry. It’s a formal promise, an agreement between two people that they’re going to build a life together in marriage.
For love, ideally,” he adds, expression tightening for a heartbeat.
“Sometimes for politics or convenience, in which case I personally think they’re doing it wrong, but it happens. ”
“Marriage,” I repeat, tasting the word. This one comes with a vague wash of impressions that I must have absorbed prior to earth closing itself off from my mind: rings and vows and shared homes, hands clasped in front of witnesses.
“You’re saying humans stand up in front of everyone and promise to belong to each other? ”
“In the best cases, yes,” he says quietly. “They choose each other that day, and then they choose each other again. Every day.”
Something in the way he says it makes my chest ache. It sounds beautiful and terrifying all at once.
“And you want me to…pretend I’m that,” I say slowly, hesitant that I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion. “To you.”
He flinches slightly at the way I word it.
“To each other,” he corrects softly. “This is purely for your protection. If you arrive at HQ as a random woman on my arm, people will be curious. Curious men ask questions and some of those men have too much power and not enough conscience. But a colonel’s fiancée is afforded a certain…
respect. She’s assumed to be permanently spoken for and not to be bothered. ”
It’s a pragmatic, clinical explanation, and yet my heart is beginning to beat so hard I can feel it in my palms.
“What exactly would that entail?” I ask, because the edges are still blurry in my mind and I need them sharp if I’m going to walk into this without tripping. “Being your…fiancée.”
“Practically speaking,” he says, clearing his throat, “it means we would likely be given shared quarters. One room with one bed. That’s expected for an engaged couple traveling together, and separate rooms would raise eyebrows that we don’t need.”
My brain trips over one bed and promptly face-plants. Heat floods my cheeks again, hotter this time.
I’ve shared a bed with Torryn, with Riven, with Sylvin curled around us in a pile of limbs and warmth and breath.
I know what it feels like to fall asleep to someone else’s heartbeat against my spine and to wake up tangled and content.
The thought of doing that with Ryoden sparks a strange mix of comfort and panic.
“As long as you remain a respectable gentleman,” I manage after a moment, my voice only wobbling a little, “like you’ve been thus far, I don’t see the problem.”
His shoulders loosen a fraction, relief exhaling out of him. “I have no intention of overstepping, I swear.”
He hesitates, then grimaces slightly. “That said…if we’re going to sell this, we’ll need to show some level of…
affection. Nothing overt,” he adds quickly, hands lifting palm-out as if warding off a blow he anticipates from me.
“Just things that look right to other people. Holding your hand. A hand on your back when we move through a crowd. Sitting closer than this. Maybe a—”
He cuts himself off, jaw flexing.
“A what?” I prompt, though my pulse is already starting to race again.
“A kiss,” he says, the word barely louder than a breath. “If absolutely necessary. Only if I think someone is watching too closely and we need to convince them. Otherwise, I’ll keep things as minimal as possible. I know this is already asking a lot.”
My gaze drops almost involuntarily to where his hand rests on the mattress between us. It’s not even touching me, just lying there, fingers relaxed and open, but suddenly the space between our hands feels charged. I can almost feel the warmth of his skin from here.
It’s just a ruse, I tell myself. A role. Nothing more.
My body doesn’t seem to believe me. My heart beats a quick, insistent rhythm against my ribs, and there’s a strange fluttering low in my stomach.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can almost hear how the kings would react if they could see this.
Sylvin would be dramatically wounded, but perhaps secretly delighted by the new chaos it would bring despite his stomach problems he claims to have.
Riven would go very, very still in that way that means someone is about to die.
Torryn’s eyes would soften even as his jaw clenched, torn between wanting me happy and wanting me safe with them.
Azyric…Azyric would just say I told you so and let the hurt eat him from the inside out.
I force my attention back to the man in front of me. The man who is asking me to put my hand in his and walk into a den of wolves where he is the only one promising not to let them tear me apart.
“I understand,” I say finally, lifting my gaze to his. “You do what you need to do to keep both of us alive. If that means holding my hand, or touching my back, or…kissing me, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I trust you not to use this as an excuse.”
For a moment he just stares at me with half of his face lit up by the moonlight, staring at me like he can hardly believe I’ve agreed to all of this.
I almost tell him to ensure he thanks Derrick for knocking some sense into me on his behalf, but I decide against it, knowing that was likely a moment the Major wants to keep between us.
He has never interjected himself and his thoughts on the situation before, and I assume it took a lot to do so tonight.
“I won’t,” Ryoden says, and there’s a quiet intensity in the promise that makes me believe him down to my bones. “I know you have people you care about already. I’m not trying to…replace them. This is strategy. That’s all.”
My chest constricts around the reminder of the kings, of Torryn’s whisper of you’re my mate still echoing in my ears from the top of the wall. The sensation of Sylvin’s cold lips, Riven’s desperate hunger, Azyric’s warning. The idea of belonging to anyone right now feels like sacrilege.
“Strategy,” I repeat, mostly for myself, and swallow hard. “Right.”
He stands abruptly, as if he can feel my discomfort and the tension growing in the room and clears his throat.
“We leave tomorrow,” he says. “Early. Derrick will take command here while I’m gone. You should rest as much as you can until then.”
As if rest is something I have a chance of finding tonight with all these new possibilities to overanalyze and have anxiety about.
“Goodnight, Wren,” he says softly. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Thank you for believing me, Ryoden,” I manage to respond despite my nerves, a genuine smile lifting my lips at how much it means to me. “Goodnight.”