Chapter 45 Bryony #2
I nod, fighting back a cringe. “Has anyone ever mentioned you have all the social grace of a battering ram?”
“Lies are a waste of time.”
“Well. In the spirit of that honesty, I don’t suppose you’d help me again?” At his flat stare, I press on. “My uncle took daggers from me in Hellevig. Turpori steel—a gift from Evander. I think I may need them for my tests.”
Something cold and furious enters his features. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve miscalculated, if he’ll snap my neck. “Girl,” he says, very softly, “if you’d like to keep breathing, never mention my brother handing out my weapons again.”
Yikes. Okay. Well, I’m having doubts about whether I’ll survive this conversation intact.
“You know what?” I step back, hands up. “Forget I said anything. Great talk! Really productive!”
His eyes narrow. Then he turns away and strides off down the corridor. Such a charming male. Like talking to a rock, only less pleasant.
I sigh and return to my place beside Evander’s cell, easing onto the ground.
“Nemesis,” Evander says from the other side of the bars. “What in the name of fuck did you say to my brother? His face nearly arranged itself into an actual expression. It was like watching a statue contemplate murder.”
“You could have warned me that he was the one who forged my daggers. I would have gone to the grave never mentioning them.”
Evander winces. “Ah.”
“Your brother is… a lot. Did you know he flayed my thoughts wide open earlier?”
I decide not to mention the way Bastien laid bare all the messy, tangled snarls of feeling squirming in my chest where Evander is concerned. All that desperate wanting.
“Of course he did. Invasive prick.” He sighs. “I don’t know what I did to offend the stars that they cursed me with a lunatic of a Chosen. A madwoman intent on courting her own destruction.”
I just flash him a smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t you dare sit there looking all innocent.” He gives his chains a pointed rattle for emphasis. “You haven’t done a single sane thing—”
“Which instance of insanity are we talking about? The one where I’m voluntarily sleeping in a dungeon, or the deal with Alexios? I’m doing my best to keep you on your toes.”
“Every single idiotic choice you’ve made since you ended up in my keeping, starting with me. I’m the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“But you’re my favorite bad idea.” I reach through the bars, wiggling my fingers in invitation. “Hold my hand. I need comfort.”
“No. If I weren’t chained up, I’d bite you for being such an insufferable pain in my ass.”
“Why did I tie myself to you again? Refresh my memory.”
“Temporary insanity?” A shrug. “Good dick?”
I angle myself to better see his face. “I love you. I suppose that’s the reason.”
He goes still, not even breathing—as if I’ve reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in my fist. “Loving me doesn’t mean throwing yourself on a blade for me, you impossible creature.”
“But that’s what happens when you tie your soul to someone else’s.” My fingers find his. “You get all of it. The ugly parts. The broken pieces. The stupid, reckless need to put yourself between them and pain. My methods are questionable, but my heart is sure.”
And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Love isn’t pretty words and tender touches. It means standing in front of a blade meant for the one who holds your heart and bleeding so they don’t have to.
It means hurting to spare them from pain.
“You have no idea what’s coming,” he says, fingers tightening around mine. “The shit Alexios will put you through. He doesn’t play fair, and he doesn’t lose.”
“I’ve been playing games with men who want to hurt me my entire life, Wolf.”
I watch as the firelight from the wall sconces limns the angles of him gold, casting the rest in stark shadow. There’s a terrible beauty in those contrasts—the light and void, the dualities comprising this god I’ve bound myself to.
“Just tell me why,” he says softly. “Why make that bargain?”
“Because I can’t watch you suffer. Because you let me touch your wings after everything you said at the griefwood.
” I stroke my thumb over his, slow and tender.
“No one’s ever belonged to me before. That means I don’t run when things get too hard.
I’m staying and fighting even if your people despise the queen you Chose. ”
The bond shudders between us. I feel him, the fiery star-bright heart of him, even muted by the Turpori steel cuffs. If he didn’t have those on, I know I’d experience a swell of emotion like back in the clearing, as if his love for me was a blaze devouring us both.
“I don’t remember when I stopped hating you,” he murmurs.
“I lied when I said I did. You were so bright, it hurt to look at you, and I hated what that did to me.” A ragged inhale, like every word is being dragged out of him.
“I’d rotted in my own pain for centuries.
Then you swept in—a living reminder of my grief—and suddenly I couldn’t breathe through how badly I needed you.
It’s hard to let go of hurt. But they’ll adore you. Because I did. I do.”
My smile goes soft. “I think that makes you a good male.”
“Only for you, vicious girl. And you don’t have permission to die on me. Come back to me every night. Swear it.”
“I swear.”
“Good. Because if you don’t, I’ll rip apart the Void between this world and whatever comes after. And I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?”
“Both.” He brings our joined hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Always both with us.”