CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
My lips parted to tell him everything. To tell him of the first night Diana had shunned me from the only place protecting me after my parents’ deaths.
Of the number of times I’d retched next to the bodies whose lives I’d taken, drenched in blood that wasn’t my own.
That I’d had to pierce the first man I killed so many times because I kept missing anything vital.
That his cries of pain were among many that still haunted me in my sleep.
I wanted to tell him of every life I’d taken, and I wanted to tell him just how much I hated Diana for tainting my soul instead of her own.
I wanted to tell him that I wished things were fair. That I deserved better, at least once.
But instead, I evaded his gaze, pressing my lips firmly shut.
I would tell Maverick of Diana’s agenda. But only when I had enough magic to carry out justice myself.
I would be the one to kill her. Not Maverick, nor any of his guards on his behalf.
A sly grin played across his mouth as he assessed my lack of an answer. He nodded in acceptance, letting his fingers ghost across my shoulder, then slowly down my arm until they curled around my elbow.
“Why did you summon me to your study?” I breathed, tucking my thoughts of revenge aside.
“Maybe I just wanted to be sure you were all right.” Fatigue snuck across his features again. It made him look younger. Warmer.
“You saw me just fine from your seat in the Dome.”
His grip tightened slightly around my elbow.
Another beat of silence passed between us.
Then, with a sigh through his nose, he said, “If you find that you are in need of fresh air, or grow tired of the company you keep, a door will unlock at quarter past two. You’ll know where it is. It will lock again at six.”
He couldn’t possibly mean…
“I can leave the castle grounds?”
Leaving the castle grounds during the Starlight Trials was forbidden. Punishable by death.
The barest of nods was his only answer. At least, I thought it would be.
His arms wound around me in a tight embrace, while his chin found respite atop my head.
Butterflies fluttered down my spine as he whispered into my hair.
“The second trial is Courage. It will be in less than a day’s time.
” Less than a day. That was next to nothing compared to previous years. “I suggest you get some rest.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Why was he breaking almost every single one of his rules?
“My faith is rarely misplaced.”
I made to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Not yet.” A soft plea. Barely more than a whisper. “Please.”
It was often easy to forget that there was a heart underneath the crown. That despite being perpetually frozen in immortality until the gods wished it otherwise, Maverick was just a man, caught in a constant obligation to perform at his utmost best, always.
Under the eyes of his kingdom, he had to be perfect. Unbreakable. There was a reason the gods had chosen him.
I let my cheek fall to his chest, the soft cotton of his tunic infused with the familiar scent of him. It never snowed much in Aedreath, even on the coldest nights. And yet, the smell of it never failed to trail him everywhere. A ridiculous thing that made it far too easy to seek his closeness.
He was far from being a peaceful king. He was ruthless, and headstrong. But to me, he was a constant. A comfort.
“Perhaps it is you that should be getting some rest,” I suggested, clasping my hands behind his lower back.
He made a non-committal sound. “Always so considerate.”
“That is what friends are for, are they not?”
His laugh rumbled against my cheek. “I would suppose so. Though any notion of friendship I have is incredibly biased, as I have only one, after all.”
“You have an entire castle’s worth of friends,” I taunted. “One for every corner.”
His fingers absently slid down my back. “It’s not the same.”
My own gently bunched into his tunic. As if it would keep him there. “It’s not the same,” I mirrored quietly.
A distant part of me raged at the thought of him being this way with anyone else, a mute echo into a pointless void.
He’s the king, another part of me screamed, this one far too close for my liking. I found myself hating her instantly.
The crackle of the hearth was interrupted by a low dripping noise, seconds in between at first until it became a constant pitter-patter.
My leg. The scabbing had torn open again.
Maverick’s entire body tensed, and before I could mention any healers, my wound burned.
He kept me upright as both of my legs failed me, the shock and pain finally besting me. “It’s alright,” he whispered over my hiss of protest. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.”
Blinking through the haze of tears, I peered down at my torn, charred skin.
It writhed, piecing itself back together as though someone had taken to it a needle and thread.
Once it was fully sealed, the angry redness surrounding the initial gash faded into a soft pink, without even a scar to remember it by.
“Can you stand?” he asked carefully as my breathing evened. His arms loosened just enough to allow me to test my weight, but remained in place lest I threaten to crumple.
It was like I’d never been hurt to begin with. “I can stand,” I answered, dumbfounded.
Despite my claims, I nearly stumbled as he released me and stepped back in one single movement.
He called for his guards to fetch me before I could process what he’d just done.