Chapter 15
Allie
By the time Ryker had returned, each footstep as silent as a wraith’s, I was numb.
I’d swallowed my tears, hidden the crown next to the wedding corset still stained with my father’s blood, and taken cover between Ryker’s silken sheets.
But shame had followed anyway. It always did.
I’d lain there in complete darkness, staring at a foreign stone wall, in someone else’s bed, completely hollowed inside.
The thought of resting my head on the same pillow the crown had occupied only moments before turned my stomach and made me feel even smaller.
It was one thing to avoid the crown. My decision, my weight to bear.
The silence it had given me roared louder in the dark.
Not rejection.
Indifference.
I must have imagined its metal murmur, thinking myself better and deserving.
The crown had proven me wrong.
So worthlessly small.
Ryker slipped into bed, careful not to disturb me. The only thing that gave him away was his sharp inhale as he curled around me gently, cradling my back with his chest.
I should have moved away. I didn’t deserve his warmth tonight. But I didn’t move.
Instead, I pretended to be asleep, unable to face myself right now, let alone him.
If he could tell I faked it, he didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t stop the tingles as he sighed against me, breath ghosting across the nape of my neck. I fetused my legs to my chest to hide the shivers.
He smelled like vanilla, honey, and firewood, and I wanted to turn in his arms and have him hold me to his chest until this entire night made sense.
But I couldn’t look into his eyes. He’d see. He’d know.
He nuzzled his nose against my shoulder, inhaling deeply. Could he smell the stench of failure on my skin?
I knew he could hear my heart racing, but he mercifully let me pretend. He just sighed and coiled his arms tighter around me as if cementing his promise that he would always be there.
I worried I’d toss and fret all night, tormented by images of the crown mocking me. But with Ryker’s even breaths caressing my skin, I fell into the most restful night I’d had since waking up in Solkar’s Reach.
No dreams, no turning and kicking, simply resting with his body cocooning me in warmth, which lingered until the morning, when the buzz of the fortress tore me back to reality.
My eyelids fluttered open, greeting the same stone wall. I hadn’t moved all night. Ryker hadn’t either, his arm still resting on my waist protectively, nose right in the nape of my neck.
Still caught in the haziness of waking, I stretched back into him, languorous and unhurried. Now this was the proper way to wake up. Day after day.
Just as I made to turn to him, I froze, the previous day crashing into me. The troll, the wings, the lake, the crown.
They all desiccated the happiness out of me, leaving me the same shell as last night.
Ryker’s hand tightened around me only a breath later, as if my distress yanked him awake. I tried to quiet my stammering heart, but it only made it race harder.
“Good morning,” he muttered lazily, voice low and hoarse and delicious.
“Morning,” I whispered, feeling more and more like a fraud with each beat of silence that passed.
“Are you alright?” he asked, fingers playing with the ends of my hair.
“I–” I licked my lips, loosing a centering breath. I still didn’t turn to him. “Yesterday was tough.”
Not a lie, but so far away from the truth, I wondered if he could tell.
His hand paused in my hair. Just for a second, but enough to make me wonder.
Then he drew me closer to him, until I could feel the ridges of his chest against my back. Despite feeling like a disgrace, I melted into him, greedy for his warmth and comfort.
“Anything I can help with?” he asked, making me feel worse and less worthy of him, as well.
I snuggled into him. “Just…hold me.”
“Torture, having to hold my lovely future wife in my arms.”
In spite of everything, I laughed. Him calling me wife mellowed the sharper edges that always pricked my mind.
The crown hadn’t accepted me, but Ryker still did. Nothing had changed in the way he inhaled my very presence.
He slid his other arm underneath my head, hand covering my shoulder as we molded and melded together. In the safety of his embrace, my breathing evened out, matching his. Even our heartbeats, pulsing against each other’s skin, aligned until mine stopped galloping.
Only then did he murmur again, “Nadya and Geryll are excited for you to join us for tea time.”
A startled smile bloomed on my face. Too bad he couldn’t see it.
“Nadya is excited?” I asked.
“She’s willing,” he admitted. “Though I think you have to trade some of your archery secrets in return.”
“My pleasure.” The bow freed me in ways everyone deserved to feel. The bow Ryker had given me.
Just as I relaxed further into him, bangs, loud enough to jiggle the hinges off my door, ruptured the calm, warm bubble.
Ryker and I groaned at the same time.
No resident of the fortress would have dared to intrude at such an hour–only a Protectorate brat.
“Make yourself decent, we have work to do.” Dax shouted so loud, I heard him through the closed door between Ryker’s bedroom and mine. I’d shut it last night, as if I could seal the memory of the crown away. “And that goes for your guest, too.”
Ryker rumbled and turned, splaying himself on the mattress, pinching the bridge of his nose as I jumped out of bed and swaddled myself in the robe I’d brought with me last night.
“He’s your cousin and you care for him. He’s your cousin, he’s your cousin,” he chanted under his breath.
I stomped through the threshold and yanked my own door so hard, the hinges creaked in protest. Dax stared at me with a mischievous grin from behind an armful of parchment and journals. He had a frenzied look on his face, like a bolt of energy had jolted him awake.
“You’re the only guest here,” I hissed under my breath. “And stop shouting my business for the entire crater to hear.”
“Please. You’re engaged. It would have been tragic if you weren’t sleeping together.
” Dax rolled his eyes and strode in like he owned the entire damn fortress.
He raised a brow at my empty bed, before spotting Ryker in his, splayed between the rumpled sheets.
“I would say get a room, but it seems you have two. How traditional.”
Ryker’s eyes narrowed on him.
“How did you know we’d be together?” he asked with that perfect calm of his that meant trouble.
My heart thudded.
“An educated guess. I saw the way you two have been looking at each other.” Dax waved him off and didn’t stop his stride as he marched toward the table like he’d always known it was there.
“I don’t remember inviting you in,” I said as I closed the door and yanked on my robe to make sure it covered all of my backside.
The last time Dax had seen me naked, we still had our baby teeth and thought splashing in Grandpa Constantine’s pool was the best idea in the world and I wanted to keep it that way.
“You said eight. It’s five to eight.” Dax shuffled the papers on the table with hectic movements.
“You insisted on nine,” I argued.
“Changed my mind. You were right, we have a lot of work to do,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t knock my door down first, but I guess you were distracted. Good thing I’m here to keep you on schedule.”
That had smarted more than Dax probably realised. I crossed my hands in front of my chest. “Not fun when you’re the one who has to keep others in check, is it?”
“No, it’s awful.” He grimaced. “We’ve already been through this. The sooner you return to your precise, militant self, the sooner I can relax.”
Ryker slid off the bed, keeping his cold, assessing gaze on Dax as he leaned against the doorway.
“Sorry we got interrupted,” I whispered. “He’s right, we do need to work.”
Ryker nodded, even as his brow furrowed. For the briefest moment, I was sure he was about to insist we’d reveal everything unspoken yesterday, but he pursed his lips.
“Very well,” he said evenly. “We’ll talk when you’re done.”
I looked deep into his eyes, so he knew I meant it. “I promise.”
“Sorry I’m interrupting with my admirable sense of duty,” Dax said, breaking the moment once again.
Ryker sighed and glowered at Dax one last time. “When he annoys you, be careful not to throw him out the window. He doesn’t have his wings anymore.”
“I’d worry about her throwing you off the balcony if I were you,” Dax grumbled.
“It’s too early for this.” I huffed.
“He’s her cousin,” Ryker muttered at the ceiling again, before his gaze enveloped me again. “Later.”
“Later,” I said, heart already fluttering.
We kept looking at each other as he closed his door slowly, as reticent as I felt to part. When he finally shut it, I shuddered a breath. Dax didn’t know it, but he’d offered me the perfect excuse to gather myself before I faced Ryker once more.
“He’s so tiresome,” Dax said and quickly turned to me in his seat. “Please tell me all those lovesick stares between you two are just an act and you don’t actually like him.”
I pursed my lips at him. “Yes, because I’m so well known for lies and fakery.”
“That’s disappointing.” Dax rolled his eyes and focused back on the parchments, taking out a quill from the leather satchel hanging off his side.
I furrowed my brows.
I figured his hectic energy had been all part of the act to throw Ryker off his dangerous scent. But Dax kept shuffling, fidgeting, and bouncing his leg like he wanted to permanently injure his knee.
“What’s with you?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes off the table, he took out a small glass vial from his satchel, the viscous liquid inside catching the light.
Truth serum.
Uncle Maksim had warned us it would try to yank the words off our tongues, so we had to channel that energy in other ways, until it left our system. I remembered–though I’d wished I didn’t–how I’d run away from him during one of our training sessions so he wouldn’t learn about my fear of spiders.
The Huntress couldn’t be scared of a creature she could squash, I knew that even then.
I’d mastered a lot of the skills he’d taught, but never this.
Dax had been his best student, however. He must have been bottling up more information than I realized.
“You really did read all the ledgers in the vaults,” I said.
“I always come prepared.” He stopped his twitching long enough to throw a grin my way. “Now get ready. While I’m sure your Commander loves it, I don’t want you accidentally flashing me in that robe.”
“You’re obnoxious when you’re diligent,” I grumbled and marched toward my washroom.
“Learned it from the best,” Dax sing-songed.
“Dax?” I said.
“Yes?”
I smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
He sighed, even as laughter danced in his eyes. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d almost died last night. “Remember that when I’m being particularly annoying.”
I’d take all the irritation in the world to have him safe and grinning.
Just as I was about to close the door, his voice followed me. “Did you get my gift last night?”
My chest instantly tightened, staggering my breaths.
Yes, I had–and it had ruined whatever hope I still had of reclaiming my throne.
But I couldn’t say that out loud.
Not yet.
So, like a coward, I closed the door and pretended I hadn’t heard. If only it would have been as easy to close the door on my devastating shame.