Chapter 23
There was a price on my head, which wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.
There was one on Kier’s too, which only worsened his mood, and he refused to be soothed.
Shunned affection and care and reassurance.
And because my soul was wrapped around his, I felt the true cause, buried under everything else, hidden like a secret: Kier was afraid.
I couldn’t sleep. Not because of the bounty, but because the attack on Skayan wouldn’t have been possible without me.
Cleodora only knew where the shield gems were buried in the wall because I asked Kier how the capital was protected.
She only knew where to find the last major military base because she ripped the truth from me.
All those soldiers, slaughtered. Anyone who lived in Skayan, either dead or terrified, hid in their homes after witnessing their king killed, deposed, and eaten.
I lurched out of bed and collapsed to my knees in the bathroom attached to our room, the flaky onion tart we ate for dinner making a decidedly less flaky reappearance.
“Ugh,” I groaned, my stomach whirling, cramping, and sweat beading on my face.
Some of the queasiness faded when a hot hand stroked up and down my back, slipping under my loose sleep shirt to soothe me, skin to skin. It didn’t stop me vomiting again, but it did lessen some of the misery in my chest.
“I told her how to get into Skayan,” I rasped when my stomach stopped roiling. “And the base on the edge of the forest—I told her where to find it.”
A heavy sigh moved through Kier and his hands found my hips, picking me up and settling me in his lap, my back to his chest, his arms forming protective bands around me. More of the nausea faded, though I needed to rinse my mouth to get the acrid taste out.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said in his softest, quietest voice. “You didn’t have a choice.”
“She invaded Skayan because of me. All those people died because of me, Kier.” My voice cracked. “Your father died because of me.”
His arms tightened. “She would have found another way. She’d have compelled a halfling who works in the castle, or sent a group of human rebels under the cover of an illusion. She would have found another way,” he repeated, impressing the words on the back of my neck.
I swallowed, guilt lining my throat as much as bile. “I betrayed you—”
“You did not,” he argued. “Betrayal needs intent, and you didn’t have a choice, Zaba. I won’t let you blame yourself for anything you did under compulsion. Those were her acts, not yours.”
I turned halfway until I could lean my head on his shoulder, misery like a noose around my throat.
“Would you hold me accountable for those acts, if she’d found a way to compel goblins?”
“I—” No, I wouldn’t. I sighed, deflating in his arms.
“No,” Kier agreed, as if he could hear my thoughts. He pressed a hard kiss to my temple. “Would you blame Rook, or Aerona, or Ryvan—”
“Alright, you’ve made your point,” I grumbled, nestling deeper into him, tipping my head up to kiss the spot beneath his jaw. “Thank you.”
“I’m your husband, Zaba. Being at your side for every good moment is a joy, and being able to hold you through every struggle is a privilege.”
Knives of emotion bit into my eyes, the lump from earlier returning to my throat. In retaliation, I bit his Adam’s apple.
“What was that for?” he asked with a laugh.
“Making me cry when I already feel sick.”
Proving we were a match made in heaven, he laughed. Dick. I kissed the spot I’d bitten and cuddled into him.
“You were restless in your sleep,” I said, not quite a question but an invitation to speak about what haunted him.
Kier sighed, resting his chin atop my head, content to hold me despite the awful scent of vomit in the room. “It’s nothing, just the stress of the day catching up to me.”
I heard him cry out, then mumble something too low for me to make out. That wasn’t just stress. “Kier,” I began.
“It’s nothing, Zaba,” he reiterated, not sharp or harsh but final.
I drew back to look at him, my heart aching at the deep shadows, the red veins standing out within his eyes. I cupped his cheek, stroking my thumb over soft skin and stubble.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, holding my gaze. “I’d tell you if it was bad. Promise.”
“I’ll give you tonight,” I relented. “But if you have another nightmare, we’re going to have a heart to heart, and you have no choice but to confess all your woes to me. Then I can help you stab them over and over until they bleed out and are too lifeless to haunt you anymore.”
“Very violent, mate,” he purred, his hands wandering down my back to warm my ass. When he angled his face towards mine, I pressed my hand flat to his mouth.
“Because I love you, and I’m selfless enough to put your needs above mine, I’ll sacrifice that kiss to save you from the taste of vomit.”
His nose wrinkled. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” I quipped, and squeezed him in a last hug before I got to my feet, hunting down a jug of water.
“Do you feel any better?” he asked, his hand finding the small of my back as I rinsed my mouth.
After downing enough water that I felt it slosh in my belly, I realised I did feel better.
Being taken care of worked wonders. So did having the best husband a woman could ever ask for.
Sure, he was flawed, but so was I. What mattered was how we fit together, and refusing to let our issues come between us.
What mattered was staring our faults in the face and working on them.
I would always be afraid he’d exile me again, and I’d always have to face my sister’s death when we were together, but he had to do the same.
And all the good outweighed the struggle.
Moments like these, quiet and intimate, even vomit-flavoured, made all the rest worth it.
“I wouldn’t change any of it, you know,” I said without answering the question. I turned to meet his gaze, feeling that eye contact ground me, settling my soul. “Ideally, I’d make tweaks of course—”
“Of course,” he agreed with a smile at the edge of his mouth.
“But if it meant being here, being married to you, sleeping beside you, getting to kiss you and hold you and all the other fun stuff.” The light that flashed through his eyes made me smirk and run my hand down his chest. “I wouldn’t change anything.
Even the damned worm in my skull. If I have to endure that to be your wife, so be it. ”
Kier’s hands found my face as we walked awkwardly back to our bedroom without breaking eye contact. “Please tell me I can kiss you now.”
“You may,” I agreed magnanimously.
And ruthless gods, what a kiss it was.