10. A Kiss For the Pain
Killian led Zalina around the gardens as was their custom after tea. The leaves were just turning yellow and red, but as Zalina held onto Killian’s arm, he realized that the colors had nowhere near the vibrance of the Forbidden Forest. There, leaves glittered as if made of gold and rubies, and the green of the grass was a true emerald or as vibrant as jade. The leaves here were a sallow, bile shade.
The company paled in comparison as well.
Zalina tittered again at something he had said. Something he hadn’t meant as a joke. She batted a hand against his shoulder and brought herself close, pressing her chest into him.
“How is it you speak so highly of this wolf, but I haven’t met him,” she whined, her pitch high and nasally. “I have seen him duck away when you come back inside, but no one has thought to introduce us. I swear I’ve never been jealous like I am of a furry beast who gets all your time!” She laughed again. “My maid says that you even talk to the creature! If he talks back, then I must know this novel beasty.”
Killian frowned. His skin pricked at her closeness, so he turned to give them space by walking the opposite way. Jax was as well-known and accepted on the castle grounds as the statues, fountains, and busts of his relatives. But he never lingered. Glancing down at Zalina, he nearly agreed to their meeting, but a wave of resistance held him back. “Perhaps another time,” he hedged. “He’s a busy wolf.”
Her eyes fluttered coquettishly, but they held no sparkle. Her hands were soft, but too soft, like undercooked eggs, pale and floppy. Her black hair glimmered, but it didn’t shine with its own inner radiance like the sun.
Unlike her. Unlike Raela. Raela who lit the entire meadow with her joy and inner brilliance.
Zalina asked what he was wearing to the harvest ball in a few days, prattling on about her clothing, drawing lines down her corset with her fingers as she described the outfit. Feverishly working for his attention and approval.
Had she always been this desperate? Had he always acquiesced to this pouting fervor? Is this what he had thought friendship was?
The affirmative answer was likely. Killian shifted uncomfortably.
It was as though he had been sustained by bland porridge or dry bread his whole life and thought he was living well. Now he had tasted lemon or basil, a steak or a raspberry. He realized with a dawning sense of clarity that he couldn’t go back to where he’d been. He couldn’t be satisfied with mere survival. He wanted to thrive and live with Raela’s kind of vigorous delight.
He wanted Raela. He wanted her clever mind and her friendship. He wanted her to hold him accountable to making things right with Phineas.
Phineas.
Killian clenched his jaw, pulsing the muscle before turning to Zalina. “Please excuse me, I just remembered I need to communicate a message to Lord Phineas. It’s urgent. I shall see you tomorrow?”
Zalina smiled at him tightly and dipped into a shallow curtsy. As she turned, Killian imagined he saw a feral look unfitting for a court lady. But as she walked away, full of composure, he was certain he imagined it. He must have seen a bit of hurt, which was to be expected.
He rushed over to the training grounds, searching for his friend. He swept through all the usual haunts before finally asking the weapon master’s apprentice.
“Nathan, where is Lord Phineas?”
“Your Highness?” He turned his hat about, as if struggling to find the words. “You … you asked for a small squadron to secure the northern harbor before the freeze. He left about six days ago.” Six days with no additions to Killian’s book pile. That explained it.
Killian closed his eyes. Of course he had. Killian hadn’t asked for Phineas specifically, but the shipyards were perilous and required a strong leader to keep the men safe. So of course, Phineas had volunteered. A pang of guilt hit him.
Muttering his thanks, Killian slunk back to his room. He was finally ready to—what was that word? Shillet?—to let free his friend from the bitter jail Killian had held him in. To apologize, to gain Phineas’s forgiveness, to release his own bitterness, but due to his own orders, he was unable to restore the friendship today. If only Killian had gone himself or gone with Phineas instead of fleeing into the forest, or whatever other excuses he had conjured, everything could have already been fixed. Dejected, Killian eyed the remaining tower of unread books. As penance and an apology, Killian would read everything Phineas had brought him even while Killian had petulantly ignored him.
He dragged his hand down his face. Petulant indeed. Killian resolved in his heart to do better next time. Hopefully, Phineas would come home soon, and he could fix this mess he had made.
Lady Zalina hounded his steps. His father glared daggers at him. The tailors seemed to lie in wait behind every corner. For some reason, the butler needed to know his opinion on drapery colors and napkins. The castle buzzed with his impending wedding celebration. The changing of seasons also meant more harvest balls and kowtowing to the nobility. Every other night Killian was expected to smile and pretend. And the women didn’t hold back their false smiles, hiding their heartbreak behind a flicker of hope as his wedding ceremony approached and still no bride appeared.
Killian continued to run toward the one person who accepted him just as he was. She didn’t understand charm even when Killian accidentally used it. His flowers confused Raela. His wink made her ask him if there was a bug in his eye. His best lines didn’t translate well at all, though they did make her laugh. She just … accepted him. Seemed to like him as he was, even when he was clumsy or unrefined.
Unlike Zalina, when Raela touched him, there was no subterfuge or sneaky attempts to woo him for the position as his queen. There was no crown weighing them down with all the responsibilities and falsehoods that held. He was just a man.
A man who was falling for her.
Killian wasn’t even sure why he should stop himself anymore.
They lay in the grass, staring at the puffs of clouds, guessing the animal each one looked like, sometimes followed by badly drawn pictures from Killian to expand their words. Since she was learning Common so well, he tried to pick up L’Turetian in return.
Killian kicked himself for overlooking an ancient journal Phineas had unearthed from the library several weeks ago. It was nearly the same language, but the script had been hard to read and the papers so fragile that he had passed over it. Maybe soon he would know enough words to translate it. One passage said something about licking a flower, which meant he was probably mistranslating already. He’d forgotten it but would bring it with him next time to ask for Raela’s help.
The grass smelled fresh and sweet, especially next to her. Killian threaded his fingers over the grass as Raela talked in Common about everything and nothing. It all sounded like music to him.
He sucked in a sharp breath and sat up, drawing up his finger to examine it. The grass had cut him, thinly shearing his fingertip. Blood welled up immediately.
“Ow,” Killian said at the same time Raela said, “Ach!”
She reached for him and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at the blood. “Remember what I taught you about the grass,” she chided. “Witch’s Blade looks pretty and grows fast, but it has its name for a reason. Don’t confuse it for Blueseed.”
Don’t be an idiot, Killian.Jax snorted as he rolled over beside them, his legs were in the air, bent at the paws.
“This will help.” Still holding the fabric, she bent and kissed the tip of his finger. “There, have a … what is this?” She made a kiss sound again as she pointed to her lips.
Killian swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. “A kiss.”
She kissed his finger again. “There, a kiss for a …” She looked at him, as if she were trying to remember, then her eyes brightened. “For the pain.”
He whispered, “A kiss for the pain.” But he was transfixed on the tingle that the kiss left on his fingertip which traveled up his arm, through his chest, and prickled the skin on the back of his neck.
“Better?” She grinned at him, and he nodded, so she pulled his hand into her lap, even as her gaze shifted to the dark clouds that hovered over the tall mountain peaks to the south. They were barely visible over the high trees around the meadow, but their peaks looked jagged and menacing. She idly played with his fingers, careful to avoid the cut.
Tilting her head toward it, she said, “The wind is cold. A storm sits on the mountain.”
Killian watched the ashy, lenticular cloud as it hovered over the highest peaks, the darkness of the cloud’s base strikingly ominous. Killian shifted uncomfortably, his pending ceremony intruding into his peaceful thoughts. The clouds mirrored his own internal turmoil. “Good thing it’s still far off.”
Her fingertips tapped on his palm, which she still had in her grasp, her gaze distant. “Will you come to me even when there is snow?”
He smiled, though his heart lurched at the promise. “I will come to you even if there are feet and feet of snow.”
“You only have two feet,” Raela said with a frown.
Killian chuckled. “I meant, even if the snow comes up to here”—he held his hand above his head—“I will still come.”
“That is too much snow, and that has not happened many times in the past.” She tilted her head, considering. “But if that much snow, I will come too. Jax will be warm, so I will sit by Jax. Just like I have kept warm with Mother Bear, I mean, Klatma, before her long sleeps.”
I like this plan,Jax said from beside them. I am an excellent cuddler.
“You have softened in your old age!” Killian exclaimed at his furry friend. “You never cuddle with me.”
Killian reached his free hand toward his friend who rolled away with a shake of his head. You have never asked. Nor do you smell as good.
Raela giggled, and the birds twittered back a lyrical song in response to her laughter. “What is cuddle?”
“It’s like a hug, only you hold on for a long time.” Killian scratched at his face, when she looked confused, then he stood and held open his arms. “If you were to do the same to me, this would be a hug.”
Raela rose to her feet and held her arms open to the sides as well, a few feet away. “This is a hug?”
Killian approached her, and his heart pounded. “No, like this. Like you did when I was sad.” He slowly wrapped her in his arms. She reached back around him as well and snuggled her head against his chest. Killian’s throat closed with a sudden swell of emotion.
Raela murmured, her voice muffled by his vest, “Like this?”
“Yes.” Killian’s voice was thick and low. “This is a hug. Do this for a long time, and that is cuddling.”
She pulled away slowly from Killian, casting a brilliant smile with flushed cheeks before she turned to the wolf. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Jax, will you cuddle with me when there is snow?”
Of course.
Killian raised his brow at his friend. “Aw, Jax, what about me?”
Absolutely not. You’re only asking because she did. You told me you were too old for cuddling when you were ten. Killian grinned, but he wondered if that had been the last time he had been close to anyone. His father certainly didn’t hug him.
“Do not worry, Killian. I will cuddle you,” Raela said.
His cheeks pulled tighter in a smile with her sweetness, but Killian did worry. Exceedingly. There was no one else that Killian wanted to be that close to. The strength of his desire to be with Raela struck him hard, and he felt suddenly vulnerable. But his betrothal, his duty. He looked at her again. His heart.
Raela, mercifully oblivious, sat again and picked up the latest book he had brought her. “Killian, read to me. I like your voice.” She settled her head back onto her hands and closed her eyes, a picture of true peace.
“I’m happy to read to you.” He collapsed into the grass next her and began, trying to lose himself in the story. Anything to distract him from the storm of emotions inside.