Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Disaris awakened slowly to a faint rhythmic slapping noise and the feel of something warm along the entire length of her right side.
It was dark in the tent, and her nose and cheeks were cold.
Sometime after she’d finished the supper a soldier brought to her, she’d fallen asleep on Bron’s pallet, waiting for his return.
She vaguely remembered crawling under the covers as the night grew colder and Bron still hadn’t returned.
The heat along her body, however, didn’t come from the blankets.
Someone lay beside her. She went rigid, afraid to breathe as fear chased away the last vestiges of sleep.
“Easy, Disa.” Bron’s deep voice was a purr in her ear. “It’s just me.”
That wonderful, comforting, familiar voice.
Disa rolled to her side to face him, stretching out a hand to touch the large shape next to her.
It was too dark to see him, but she could tell he lay supine.
Her fingers mapped a path over his chest to his throat, then along the clean line of his jaw to his mouth and the grooved line of skin that was the scar marring his cheek.
He captured her hand, lowering it to his chest. Beneath his thin shirt, his heart beat strong and slow. “It isn’t dawn yet,” he said. “You still have time for a little more sleep, and then I’ll take you to Slaekum’s temple to pray for guidance.”
There was no possible way she’d waste this gift of waking up next to Bron by falling back asleep.
She’d lived far too long without his presence in her life, and now, during these frightening days, he was here beside her, and she was safe.
“I’m not sleepy anymore, but can we just stay like this for now? ”
He didn’t reply, but he didn’t move either.
Disaris was tempted to scoot closer, but she didn’t dare.
Bron, while solicitous, remained guarded and distant.
The fact he allowed her touch and lay beside her amazed her.
She didn’t want those fortress walls to go any higher than they already were.
Instead, she remained still and savored the moment.
The memory of a time similar to this one, when they were younger and not yet so hardened by war and tragedy, wedged a knot of tears into her throat.
She pushed the thought away before they could claw their way out.
“When did you return?” she asked when she was certain her voice wouldn’t warble.
“A couple of hours ago. We’ve shared a bed before. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
His words didn’t carry any innuendo, but Disaris felt her cheeks heat with a blush nonetheless. “I don’t mind.”
Silence breathed between them as she counted the steady beat of his heart under her palm and soaked in the warmth of his body so tantalizingly near hers.
The yearning to embrace him made for powerful temptation, yet she stayed where she was, reliving the moment she’d turned her back on him and the devastation in his eyes before he bowed and walked away.
This time the sob she stifled almost choked her.
She covered her mouth with the hand warmed by his skin to hide the sound.
“Disa?” Worry threaded his voice.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was trying to hold back a cough.” At least it was too dark for him to see her tears. She eased her hand back to his chest, expecting him to rebuff her touch. He didn’t.
“How in the gods’ names did you and Ceybold end up in Baelok with an infestation of Daggermen?”
The question dried her tears in an instant as long-simmering anger rose inside her. “Because I was a trusting fool, and he was a Daggerman himself.”
Bron’s chest rose with a long inhalation, falling once more with an equally prolonged exhale. “I wish I could say I’m surprised he joined them, but I’m not. Nor am I surprised he deceived you.”
She winced. “He promised me and Luda safety after Panrin was ransacked. I didn’t realize he was a Daggerman until it was too late. You think me stupid for falling for his lies?” She wished she could see his expression. Bron had always been honest with her, something she hadn’t always reciprocated.
His faint chortle was more a vibration beneath her hand than a sound. “No. You’re maddening, recklessly devoted, and hopeful. You aren’t stupid. Ceybold could coax a bird into a cat’s clutches with his charm.”
How very true that was, and she’d been as manipulated by that charm as everyone else he wielded it against, at least at first. “We hated each other by the time he died.”
Beside her, Bron stiffened for a moment. “I went back to Baelok tonight to search for Ceybold’s body. I didn’t find it, but I found a place where someone looked like they crawled out of the rubble and dragged themselves to a passage leading under the palace.”
Whatever contentment Disaris found lying next to Bron in the dark evaporated in an instant at his news. She bolted upright, rolled partway onto him and clutched his broad shoulders. “Are you certain, Bron? I saw the wall fall on him! There’s no way he could have survived it.”
The image of Ceybold collapsing under the weight of falling stone was as clear in her mind as if it happened moments earlier.
Please be dead. Please be dead. A morbid prayer wordlessly chanted in her head over and over.
Ceybold’s death had been a blessing, for more than just preventing him from killing her.
If Bron was right, then her plans had become even more desperate than before.
Bron sat up, supporting Disaris with his hands on her back as she suddenly straddled him in this new position.
He murmured something in words she didn’t understand, and the single lantern in the tent flared to life on a soft hiss.
She squinted in the sudden illumination.
After a few blinks, the beloved face in front of her came into focus, his eyes palest blue behind white lashes.
His scar was a livid slash across his cheek as he stared at her, scowling.
“Alive or dead, you don’t have to be afraid of him anymore, Disa.
I will rip his liver out with my bare hands if he shows his face anywhere near you. ”
His declaration was quiet, hardly more than a whisper, and spoken with the ardency of the lover he’d once been to her. Disaris blinked back tears.
She believed every word, found solace in the fact he’d do whatever was necessary to protect her.
It was his greatest weakness and one Ceybold had used against him in the past. He’d use the same tactic against her now.
Disaris wasn’t the one in danger of Ceybold at the moment.
Her sister was, and the small measure of time she thought she had to reach and rescue Luda from the Daggermen had just diminished to a sliver if what Bron said was true and Ceybold still lived.
How she wished she could tell him everything, pour out her terror, her grief, and her plans, and ask him for help.
But to aid her meant turning traitor, and she refused to put him in such a position.
And there was no guarantee he wouldn’t try and stop her from executing those plans, all with the intention of protecting her.
His scowl softened when she cupped his face in her hands and gave him a smile. “I’m glad you chose his liver instead of his heart, otherwise you’d come up empty-handed.”
An odd pensiveness came over his face. “Ceybold wasn’t always like that,” he said. “Remember when we were all friends?”
Considering she’d only recently survived a knife attack from said friend, it was hard for Disaris to recall any such childhood connection.
Her memory of interactions with Ceybold were far less nostalgic than Bron’s.
Ceybold had first bullied her, then tolerated her presence for Bron’s sake.
Then he’d used her for nefarious purposes and as a weapon against Bron.
Bron might have been a true friend to Ceybold at one time, but she never believed that friendship to be equally returned.
Nor had it lasted. As for her and Ceybold, he was never her friend, only her husband.
There was no purpose in contradicting Bron’s recollections about Ceybold. What once existed between the two men had long been replaced by enmity. Whatever good memory remained wasn’t hers to besmirch.
“That was a long time ago,” she said. “A good memory for you to hold when others are less so.” She slid her fingers gently through his hair, careful not to pull any tangles. I’ve always felt safe with you.”
He allowed her affectionate caress, his gaze drifting down to her mouth. Disaris’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird in a cage. She held her breath, waiting, hoping.
“Why did you marry him, Disa?”
The fluttering heartbeat of anticipation changed to one of sorrow. Disaris closed her eyes at the quiet pain and confusion in Bron’s voice.
He’d asked her the same question before, when they’d stood together under the shade of an oak tree in the garden of a Daggermen supporter.
Bron had come straight from a nearby skirmish between Daesin and Kefian forces, still armored, bloodied, and staggering from exhaustion.
He’d stared at her, wide-eyed and baffled at news he’d just learned. “Why, Disa? Why did you marry him?”
Now, as then, she never got the chance to answer him. The whinny of a nearby horse and the shout of a soldier just outside the tent startled them apart. Disaris clambered off Bron and stood. He was slower to do the same. The shadow he cast over her as he rose loomed heavy.
“It’s close enough to dawn,” he said, expression shuttered. “I’ll fetch breakfast for both of us while you get ready. We’ll leave for the temple as soon as we’ve eaten.” He turned away without another word and swept out of the tent on silent feet.