Chapter Fourteen
Iris
Istared unblinking at the looking glass, unable to figure out what about my appearance wasn’t sitting right with me.
The hair color perhaps? I sent a rush of magic towards the loose tendrils dangling over my shoulders, shifting them from fiery orange to a glowing silver.
No, maybe it was the length. I tilted my head, letting it grow down my rib cage, until it danced at the top of my hip bones.
Better.
But still not quite right.
I leaned forward, squinting at myself. Perhaps the eye shape could be adjusted. I narrowed my eyes, lining them with lashes that were slightly longer than they had been moments ago.
Maybe black hair was in order.
No.
I pushed back from the vanity in a rush, letting the bottom of my chair scratch against the hardwood floor without caring if it scraped against the polish. It didn’t seem to matter how long I stared at myself, shifting tiny freckles, dimples, and features. I wasn’t happy with what I saw.
Whatever. It didn't matter anyway.
“Iris,” Clay pushed open the door to my bedroom, the fall of his boots like a drumbeat. “Can I come in?”
“You’re the king, you can do whatever you want.”
He gave me a crooked, sheepish grin. Clay’s father had always taught him that maintaining power relied on consistently reminding those beneath you of your status as their better. Now that Clay had stepped into that role as a ruler, though? Well, he seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the dynamic.
“Here to see me off?” I asked, forcing lightness into my voice as I began tucking blades into the many sheaths of my thick vest.
“Something like that.” Clay let his attention scan over the room, from the large windows to the elaborate bedding, to the fine upholstery on the chair by the door. He picked at the frills on the delicate throw pillow atop that chair. “Such luxury here at the expense of the people he’s stolen from.”
I hid my smile by scratching the tip of my nose, turning to start folding garments to bring with me. Nothing elaborate. Some clean and simple tunics, thick woolen leggings, and rags. Always good to bring rags to clean blood or dress wounds.
“You don’t like him.”
“What’s not to like?” He intoned sarcastically. Clay tucked his hands behind his back, straightening into that board-like posture he’d perfected as a child. “So, you and Nikolai…” his voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear.
I met his gaze, taking in his combed hair and freshly shaven face.
His tunic was freshly pressed, tucked neatly into his pants, and the buttons of his embroidered jacket had been freshly shined.
He was dressed like a king, as much as he could be, at least, during a time of war in a home that wasn’t his own. The only thing missing was a crown.
I wondered if Nikolai had an extra one lying around somewhere. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“Are you ready to travel to Inanis?”
He lifted a brow at me. “You’re avoiding the question.”
I tied together the ends of my travel bag, throwing it over my shoulder before glancing around the room to confirm I wasn’t missing anything I needed to bring with me.
“There’s nothing between us.”
“Hmm.” A pause. “Do you want there to be?”
An uncomfortable fluttering sensation was settling over my chest. “I do not.”
Why did that sentence leave my stomach twisting?
Clay shifted, sighing as he seemed to contemplate his next words. “Well, I think he wants something to be.”
I fought the urge to growl in frustration.
“Why do you feel the need to play matchmaker?”
He chewed on his cheek, a sudden seriousness falling over him. Slowly, he stepped forward, tugging the pack off my shoulder and throwing it onto the bed so that he could embrace me.
Everything in me clenched.
It had been a long time since someone had hugged me. Clay was probably the only person in the world that I even would have let hold me close, and, Gods, the feeling of being in another's arms was enough to cripple me.
“We may not have many more opportunities to find happiness, Iris,” he told me softly, pain and grief laced in his words.
“And what if my last opportunity has already passed me by?” The words poured out before I could stop them.
He pulled away, cupped my cheek, and gave me his kindest smile. “It hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m seeing your opportunity standing right in front of us both. If I were you, I’d latch onto it while you still can.”
By the time I arrived at the stables, after taking a brief detour to check in with the other members of the Order before I left, Nikolai waited for me, seated atop a boulder tearing off pieces of a loaf of bread.
His long hair was combed back and knotted at the base of his skull, but the morning sun still painted streaks of gold in the otherwise reddish sheen.
“You’re late.” He grumbled somewhat unhappily.
“And you’re impatient.”
Our horses were prepared too, properly saddled and tied off to a fence post, both shifting their weight and stomping their hooves as if they were more than ready to leave.
“Eager,” he amended, standing and offering me the rest of the bread, which I accepted with a grateful nod. There hadn’t been time for breakfast between packing and threatening to gut anyone who allowed harm to come to Clay in my absence.
“I’m merely eager to have your attention to myself for a few days.”
I rolled my eyes, moving towards the spotted mare I planned to claim as my own. She was a sturdy horse, cords of muscle visible under her coat, and intelligent based on the all-too-aware gleam in her eyes. I offered her my hand before moving to tie my pack onto her saddle.
“I will be focusing my attention on any threats, not on you, Nikolai.”
I ignored the way his full lips quirked.
I also ignored the way my stomach flipped as they did.
“Good.” He came to my side, extending a hand towards me. “I hold your skills in high regard; it would be terribly disappointing if you were easy to injure.”
That hand lingered in the space between us, an offering—both to help me mount my horse and for something far more meaningful.
For a moment, I actually allowed myself to consider taking it. I pictured the possibility of allowing myself to latch onto whatever happiness he might offer me in the darkness our world had become.
Then, I pushed aside the thought.
Loss and heartbreak always followed happiness like that.
I’d cared for Nikolai once before, and I’d had to say goodbye.
I’d loved Lorelai, and she’d died.
Temporary happiness wasn’t worth another heartbreak.
Turning away from his outstretched palm, I grasped onto the saddle, placed my foot into the stirrup, and pulled myself up on my own, feeling his eyes on my back as I did.
“So, where to?” I asked, rubbing my hands against the frost in the air.
Nikolai stared up at me for a long minute before turning towards his own horse. “Western archives. The librarian there is an expert of mythology and owes me a few favors.”
“Seems like a reasonable place to start.”
“I wasn’t asking for approval.”
I snorted, inclining my head in acknowledgment.
The sun was unforgivingly bright as I stared out at the pathway that led towards the main road away from the estate. Covering my eyes, I blinked a few times and rolled out my muscles.
“I hate horseback riding,” I confessed, slapping the muscles of my thighs to wake them up. “It’s exhausting, it causes muscle aches no matter how strong you are, and you constantly have to worry about whether the poor thing is thirsty.”
Nikolai laughed, the sound deep in his throat. Riding up next to me, his eyes trailed over me, taking in my positioning with an appreciative purse of his lips.
“I’ll add that to the growing list of facts I’m learning about you.”
“What else is on the list?”
He smirked, kicking a heel into the side of his horse and urging it forward. “I’m keeping that information private for now.”
I stuck out my tongue at him, secretly savoring the small laugh the gesture earned. Just because I insisted on keeping our dynamic platonic didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the sound of his laugh… right?
Anyone would enjoy the sound of a laugh like that. Deep and yet joyful. Simple and yet sexy.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s just a laugh.
I waved a hand in front of us. “Alright, treasure hunter, show me your ways.”
Nikolai wiggled his brows at me, waiting for me to urge my horse to join him. We rode together, side by side, away from his manor and towards the open expanse of land that separated us from the Blades of Arto.
I didn’t know how long it would take to find them.
I didn’t know if I was hoping for it to be a short or a long journey.
“As you wish, my bird,” he answered.